I was depressed as hell today and couldn’t get much accomplished on the job front. I sat at the computer and felt depressed with my job prospects, repulsed by social media, devoid of creativity. This evening I took a walk with a neighbour, and she described the same feelings. We both knew the cause: the recent tragedy in Boston.
My neighbour is a long-distance runner with some half-marathons under her belt; I’m a sprinter (was a sprinter); we’re both injured. But suddenly those injuries are no longer worthy of our complaints. What can we do with this grief, my neighbour asked. She felt helpless, bereft of any clarity in the face of the senseless attack on those innocent fellow runners, those innocent fellow human beings.
I can’t write anything here that won’t be trite (did you follow that double negative?). I know only that I’m prepared to embrace all that I have, all that comes my way, because it can all be gone in an instant. And I’m willing to help others do the same.
Someone once said that life is about emerging graceful from loss. That, and about serving others, I’d add. What happens in another city in another country to other people happens to us all. We’re in this together, and no one gets out alive. Why can’t we see that?