What you feel is life, what you live is another story.

Tag: lesson

The Threat of Our Lives

I heard a rumor. I heard we need to be locked inside. Why, I could not tell you, but its what I heard.

I don’t see any threat lurking outside my door. There isn’t a man with a gun or some foreign army dropping from the sky. In fact everything looks still; the stillest I’ve seen things look in my life. I see neighbors helping neighbors. There are couples holding hands and laughing as they walk their dogs down the street. They are laughing and enjoying each other in ways I’ve never noticed. Perhaps the distractions of convenience were the threat everyone is talking about? People certainly seem closer to each other now that they’ve become less distracted. It can’t be that bad.

One can’t help but notice how quiet the streets seem. I look out at the major thoroughfare and notice there aren’t that many cars. I’ve heard from many that the air is cleaner, that fewer cars driving to work and school and for their Sunday drives has cleaned up the air. Perhaps air pollution was the threat everyone is talking about? Certainly the cleaner air is safer for us all. Yeah, that could be it.

Not in my town, however. Someone told me that our air quality is still pretty low. According to what the science says, it has something to do with those fracking sites that dot our neighborhoods and the gasses they put out into our air. Maybe those wells are the threat we all need to run and hide from? Certainly breathing in those gasses can’t be good for any of us. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

An email just arrived from my local supermarket. Apparently they are running short on plastic bags and we all run the risk of not having plastic to put our groceries in. Would I happen to have reusable bags to bring instead? I smile. Of course I do. Maybe now I’ll see a lot less plastic bags floating everywhere I look. Perhaps we will not have those hard-to-recycle-easy-to-find-in-the-ocean bags not killing wildlife in the near future. Maybe those bags where the threat? Could be a possibility.

I have been, as many of my neighbors have been, working from home lately. Seems my employer didn’t really need me at the office. I can do everything right from the place I live, and I can still do it pretty well. Now, imagine if we invested in working remotely wherever possible? I wouldn’t have to drive to work every day. Perhaps that air that has gotten cleaner would stay clean. Maybe there’d be a lot less car accidents. Perhaps our cars would last longer. Maybe, just maybe, we could be a lot more productive and a lot less miserable in traffic? Perhaps outdated work methods are the threat? It’s worth considering.

Someone just told me that the waterways of Venice and many other areas are the cleanest they’ve been in recent history. I’ve heard nature is recovering some lost territory, getting closer to shorelines and coming up rivers they haven’t been in ages. I wonder what kept them away, and what they saw as a threat they needed to quarantine from? I wonder what is different now that rivers and streams and oceans are becoming cleaner. Maybe it’s the same thing that threatens the planet? It has to be worth discussing.

I’ve been going for hikes and trail runs. I stay away from people because, after all, I heard there is a threat out there. I have to keep a distance from others or I can face getting sick and dying. Yet I see more people out in nature than I’m used to. It’s a good thing nature gives us plenty of space to roam so I can still keep a distance and not have to lock myself in a box. I can’t help be amazed at how many people are outside with their families, walking, laughing, enjoying the cleaner air. Amazingly, there seems a lot less trash floating around even with the larger numbers of people. Maybe it’s the lack of trash bags. Or maybe its the fact that people are starting to like things cleaner. One can only hope.

They tell us it is a virus that is the threat to our world. It’s hard to imagine that something I can’t see, or smell, or feel, or taste can be so threatening to the planet. Especially when I see so many good things happening in spite of this virus. Neighbors helping neighbors. Couples holding hands and laughing with their dogs. People out in nature and not trashing her. Waterways getting cleaner. After all, I can see my friendly neighbors and those happy couples. I can smell the cleaner air. I can feel the good intentions of others, and I can taste the cleaner water I drink. Am I really more at risk today than I’ve ever been?

I do know is that people are dying because of this threat. That saddens me just as the death of people from air and water pollution does. I’m saddened by forced quarantines but not more than I am by the voluntary quarantines we’ve been placing ourselves in. I’m saddened by the threat of this virus, but not more saddened than I am by the threat of our trash, our pollution, and the distractions we create from each other. We’ve quarantined ourselves from ourselves, and lost touch with the very thing that makes us unique. Maybe we needed something to teach us what the real threat is and that after this virus subsides, we can put some effort into ending that threat. Perhaps that threat is Us.

If it is a threat to our planet it is certainly a threat to each of us. We are a major part of this wonderful Earth and once we realize that the greatest threat we face is not just an external virus but the virus of our thinking, perhaps we can find a cure and a vaccine for that as well.

I honor the moments of my life of which I have little control. I’ve learned to use those as opportunities to discover the best of myself. I cannot end this virus, or the threat it presents to those I love and those I’ve never met. What I can do, however, is use it as a way to discover something I did not know before and to use that discovery to better my life. That way, if I survive, it will not be a waste of life and loss.

Perhaps in that way the threat is not a threat at all. Perhaps it is just a lesson.

 

Sirens (Finding the Light in the Darkness)

I have heard the sirens.

As a firefighter and EMT, they were part of the job. They were part of the adrenaline rush. Like the bugles announcing the pending arrival of a cavalry, the sirens let those who had called know we were coming. I have always loved the sounds of the sirens for that reason.

Then one day the sirens came for me.

I was blinded by a brain injury so I could not see them. I could only hear them, and I knew what story they were telling. In all the times I had ridden in the back of an ambulance with a patient I had always wondered when it would be my turn. That time had come.

Some I had ridden with were taking their last ride in the back of the “bus”. I watched some take their last breaths. I heard some whisper unintelligible prayers just before the end. I always had wondered if the language of the afterlife was something none of us were meant to understand. Even when those final words were words I knew, they always seemed to have some meaning I could not fathom.

Sometimes I would hold their hand at the end and feel the energy drain from their flesh.

I felt that their energy was not gone, it was just not there. It had traveled somewhere else, somewhere I had been before and would see again. As I took my ride in the bus, listening to the sirens play their bugle call, I insisted I was not ready to go. This would not be my last ride and this would not be the end of my story.

Fear and Focus

I was, however, afraid. More afraid than I’d ever been in my life. I had decided a short time before they arrived that I would take this ride to its fullest, but something about being on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance unnerved me. Each time I had been in the back of a bus I was the strong one, the one who was there to help. Now I was the patient, blind and weakened in my condition. Yet in that numbing darkness I could still see a tiny flame that pulsed with the rhythm of the siren. I focused on that fire, the tiny glimmer of hope of survival.

That flame was tiny, but it was mighty.

The paramedics were asking me questions and offering me reassurance. I told them I knew the drill and that I had lied to many people in the back of a bus. They answered that they weren’t lying, and I believed them. The little flame suggested that they were telling the truth. I just had to believe.

Things to Say

I knew I had things yet to say. There were the visions of my children that flashed across the darkness. My eyes had failed but my heart had perfect vision. The eyes are not the only parts of me that could see and I was learning that with each passing second. In my heart I was telling them how loved and admired they were. Had I told them that before, I wondered? Of course I had but this time seemed different. It wasn’t my mouth talking, it was my heart.

I hugged them too, a hug that felt more powerful then it ever had. I wasn’t hugging them with my arms, I was was hugging them with my heart. There was such a vast difference between the two.

I saw the Sun rise in my vision and I heard a poem recited in the wails of the siren. The vivid colors of the dawn and the beautiful rhythm of the prose rose from someplace new. My heart was painting on a new canvas and the words flowed from a place I had once only small glimpses of. I still had things to say, stories to tell, but they would not come from my head. They would come from a new and mostly uncharted territory.

I would let my heart tell the story. My heart would be the artist. I would surrender thought to feeling and let instinct be my guide.

Lessons in the Darkness

There were so many lessons learned that night. Time is short. Our moments are fleeting. Bad things happen to good people. The sirens and those sounding those bugles are heroes.

There were some, however, not so cliche.

When my mind is the guide, I see things through clouded and cracked glass. However, when my heart is guiding me my vision is much clearer. In doing something heart-centered I do it with a clear purpose. Mindfulness is not a practice worth much time for me, heartfulness is.

“Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.” My mind will always be burdened by scars and the traumas of living, but my heart sheds them in the purity of forgiveness. Scars and scabs cannot stain a heart that is pure; such anomalies cannot exist there. What I learned on that autumn night was that my task has always been to reduce the focus on my brain and let my heart lead the way.

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” ~Rumi

The barriers I had built against love resided in my mind and all its traumas. It was time to tear them down and burn them to ash in that little flame I saw in the darkness.

(Coming soon, a short story based on finding the flame in the darkness. Follow my Amazon page here.)