The Critical Decision to Get Up and Walk the Dog

March 12, 2009 at 2:01 am (healing, Inspiration, Memoirs) (, , , , )

Rach & Beau

The Critical Decision to Get Up and Walk the Dog

That first night after the house burned, my husband and I stayed across the street with our wonderful neighbors Jacques and Veronique. They immediately opened their home to us, and gave us their basement guest room to sleep in. They had an amazing way of quietly providing us with everything we needed. I will love them forever because of the humanity and unconditional love they showed us.

We hardly slept that first night. We held each other. We cried in the privacy of that little basement room.

The next morning, I remember being astonished that the sun actually came up again – amazed that there was another day.

It must have been around 6 AM. Our hosts were still asleep. That’s when we made the big decision.

We decided to get up, walk down the street to where our dog was staying, and take him for his morning romp.

I know that sounds like a very minor and mundane action, but it was literally our first major step towards healing our lives. The magnitude and majesty of that morning walk stays with me even to this day.

The sacred routine. The sweet greeting from our dog. The beauty of our neighborhood at the end of August. The morning air still cool. The birds chirping noisily. Seeing the newspaper being delivered.

The news. The world. People. Life. It was all still there, and so were we.

I knew then, as I know now, that we were going to be alright.

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The Big Safety Net

February 24, 2009 at 5:28 pm (Inspiration) (, , )

The Big Safety Net

Safety is not what I thought it was. It has to do with how your spirit rolls along.

It has to do with the hands that catch you, the voices that reassure you, and some kind of inner super-hero that makes you brave enough to put one foot in front of the other when you are not sure that you even have feet.

For many months after the fire, I felt like ether, steam, and the thinnest layer of cellophane.

Barely here, and yet confident that somehow I was safe in the universe.

Safe in the universe because we are part of the universe.

The universe accepts you when you have (seemingly) lost everything. It is the greatest feeling to be held by the Big Safety Net.

It is like being oxygen. So insignificant and anonymous, and yet, a huge part of what drives life itself.

As I live and breathe, I live and breathe.

It’s cool to be a molecule !

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Everyday Heroes

February 5, 2009 at 11:03 pm (Inspiration) (, , , , )

Everyday Heroes

Before the fire department

Before the police

Before Fox 5 landed with lights on my lawn

The heroes showed up

I ran out of a burning house with my dog, a birdcage, and my keys.

The heroes were already there waiting to help.

Somebody moved the car out of the driveway, got me some water, called my husband, took my animals to their house, and held my hand.

I am filled with awe and eternal gratitude by the simple kind acts of these folks.

I’m pretty sure that these amazing people were not sitting around at home thinking, “How can I be a hero today?”

Some of these people I know and some I will never know.

I am filled with awe and eternal gratitude for their actions.

I know for sure that there is part of each and every one of us that is heroic.

A heroic act can be very small. You don’t have to leap tall buildings in a single bound or stop a moving train in order to be a hero.

You are probably a hero every day without even realizing it.

When you encourage a child to learn, smile at a stranger, adopt a pet from a shelter, recycle, buy locally-grown produce, or take an elderly neighbor to the super market, you are a hero.

John Lennon sang, “A working class hero is something to be.”

I sing, “An everyday hero is something to be”.

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Sparks

February 5, 2009 at 3:39 pm (Memoirs) (, , )

Heart on Fire

Heart on Fire

Sparks
Yeah – if you live in my neighborhood, you know me or at least have heard about me in line at the co-op, or Sunday morning at the farmers’ market. I’m the one whose house burned down. It has now been 18 months since it happened, so people are starting to forget. That is a good thing. The nosy questions from people I hardly know are fizzling out. The freaked-out phone calls from estranged friends who have belatedly heard the news, have all but ceased. No more conversations quickly stopping when I am spotted at the dog park. For the most part, I am being treated normally again.
However, I am not as I once was.
I am stronger and more fragile.
I am more compassionate and less tolerant.
I am more outspoken and quieter.
I am profoundly changed.

It is time to write it down.

They say that everything you need to know, you learn in kindergarten.

Everything I know for sure, I have learned since walking out of a burning house 18 months ago.The rest, I’m still trying to figure out.
Welcome to Kindlingarden!
It is an honor to share my thoughts with you on this blog.

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