It never seems to end does it. We need to stop, pause at least, and resolve to be good to one another. I was going to say be good humans. But that too often seems an oxymoron 🙏💔
First observation, and prefaced with the admission that I don't, or can't always compel myself to believe this: We assume life and death are opposite states, but we don't understand what we may have been before or what we may be after. We aren't caterpillars who dissolve in order to transform, but maybe we are more similar than we know. No denying death can be excruciating for those still living, and living itself is made harder by those who allow fear to become hate and desire to become greed. I know there is a community of family, friends, and acquaintances (me!) who have benefitted from your continued presence here, for what that's worth.
Second observation: Americans, largely, have no idea how fortunate we are to have lived without war on our soils. I'm sure I can't even begin to truly understand. I'm sorry you and others carry that understanding on our behalf.
You are kind, Elizabeth. I have a hard time letting some things disappear into the great forgetfulness. I honor them by remembering that they lived and their lives mattered.
But I don’t have many good answers. The questions are way above my pay grade.
I wonder if the reason you "didn’t die that day" was because your higher power had more humanitarian work for you to do for Him? I imagine that not many have what it takes to do all the things that you were willing/able to do. I certainly would not have had what it takes... May God bless and continue to heal you for your well-done service to humanity.
I am curious about why you "carried an aching sense of guilt for years...." Could you say more about that? Did you also experience gratitude for your safety? I'd like to understand this better, but don't feel obliged to answer :-).
Life there had a capriciousness to it in those days. I posted about a massacre at an intentional community where people of all races decided to show the country that people could live as neighbors in peace and shared prosperity. Why were they selected to die?
The farm foreman was ambushed shortly after I left him, which means I passed the ambush earlier. Why him and not me? Why the men and the boys who were burned to death in the village and not me? It’s the capriciousness of it, and it’s the guilt of a survivor.
I had a colleague who survived a commercial jet crash at the Tegucigalpa, Honduras airport when almost everyone else died. He struggled with the trauma of the crash, but also the haunting question of why he lived and his colleagues or a child on the flight didn’t survive.
It’s hard not to question why one’s life was spared and another’s wasn’t.
I witnessed a similar thing when I was in Paradise, Ca, after the wild fire destroyed most of the town. I talked to a couple of people whose houses were spared, even though all their neighbors lost their homes. They thought it was almost more difficult to have a home to go back to that was surrounded by the devastation of the neighborhood.
Once again, you remind me how precious our lives are. No matter how we spend our days, there are gifts to be given and received. Small things between us: a smile, a funny remark, or passing compliment from a stranger. When I pry my body up from the bed, dangle my feet over the edge, and wonder why ... your story will come to mind. Someday I won't wake up and I would like to know that I gave all I could. Thank you, Switter.
I'm looking for words, Switter. I'm not finding them. I'm only finding tears. It's is all such a mystery. Such a fecking tender mystery with uncertainty and questions hanging on by fingertips all along the edge of the mystery.
I have spent much of my life wondering "Why (or why not) me?" Mostly I have thought about it in terms of the immense bounty that has been mine all along - parents who loved us as much as they knew how, remarkable and supportive siblings, a decent education that opened doors for me, amazingly strong health, and always the opportunity to live in beautiful country (close to the beach). How did I get to be so lucky? Why was I given all those gifts?
Although I have always been aware of my fortunate existence, it seems that, the older I get, the more I look to each and every day for the chance to be a light in the world, to do my best to find and share beauty and joy. Maybe that's the reason I'm here? Sure, I have my share of tough days, sad and grief filled days but , in the end? In the end, I keep stretching for what you seem to want to do. I just want to make life better for those who are walking the earth during this same time that I am on the planet.
Thank you for writing and sharing this tender piece. I appreciate the reminders to love this day as it presents itself.
It never seems to end does it. We need to stop, pause at least, and resolve to be good to one another. I was going to say be good humans. But that too often seems an oxymoron 🙏💔
First observation, and prefaced with the admission that I don't, or can't always compel myself to believe this: We assume life and death are opposite states, but we don't understand what we may have been before or what we may be after. We aren't caterpillars who dissolve in order to transform, but maybe we are more similar than we know. No denying death can be excruciating for those still living, and living itself is made harder by those who allow fear to become hate and desire to become greed. I know there is a community of family, friends, and acquaintances (me!) who have benefitted from your continued presence here, for what that's worth.
Second observation: Americans, largely, have no idea how fortunate we are to have lived without war on our soils. I'm sure I can't even begin to truly understand. I'm sorry you and others carry that understanding on our behalf.
You are kind, Elizabeth. I have a hard time letting some things disappear into the great forgetfulness. I honor them by remembering that they lived and their lives mattered.
But I don’t have many good answers. The questions are way above my pay grade.
I wonder if the reason you "didn’t die that day" was because your higher power had more humanitarian work for you to do for Him? I imagine that not many have what it takes to do all the things that you were willing/able to do. I certainly would not have had what it takes... May God bless and continue to heal you for your well-done service to humanity.
I am curious about why you "carried an aching sense of guilt for years...." Could you say more about that? Did you also experience gratitude for your safety? I'd like to understand this better, but don't feel obliged to answer :-).
Life there had a capriciousness to it in those days. I posted about a massacre at an intentional community where people of all races decided to show the country that people could live as neighbors in peace and shared prosperity. Why were they selected to die?
The farm foreman was ambushed shortly after I left him, which means I passed the ambush earlier. Why him and not me? Why the men and the boys who were burned to death in the village and not me? It’s the capriciousness of it, and it’s the guilt of a survivor.
I had a colleague who survived a commercial jet crash at the Tegucigalpa, Honduras airport when almost everyone else died. He struggled with the trauma of the crash, but also the haunting question of why he lived and his colleagues or a child on the flight didn’t survive.
It’s hard not to question why one’s life was spared and another’s wasn’t.
I witnessed a similar thing when I was in Paradise, Ca, after the wild fire destroyed most of the town. I talked to a couple of people whose houses were spared, even though all their neighbors lost their homes. They thought it was almost more difficult to have a home to go back to that was surrounded by the devastation of the neighborhood.
Why me? Why us? Were not others more worthy?
Once again, you remind me how precious our lives are. No matter how we spend our days, there are gifts to be given and received. Small things between us: a smile, a funny remark, or passing compliment from a stranger. When I pry my body up from the bed, dangle my feet over the edge, and wonder why ... your story will come to mind. Someday I won't wake up and I would like to know that I gave all I could. Thank you, Switter.
I'm looking for words, Switter. I'm not finding them. I'm only finding tears. It's is all such a mystery. Such a fecking tender mystery with uncertainty and questions hanging on by fingertips all along the edge of the mystery.
I have spent much of my life wondering "Why (or why not) me?" Mostly I have thought about it in terms of the immense bounty that has been mine all along - parents who loved us as much as they knew how, remarkable and supportive siblings, a decent education that opened doors for me, amazingly strong health, and always the opportunity to live in beautiful country (close to the beach). How did I get to be so lucky? Why was I given all those gifts?
Although I have always been aware of my fortunate existence, it seems that, the older I get, the more I look to each and every day for the chance to be a light in the world, to do my best to find and share beauty and joy. Maybe that's the reason I'm here? Sure, I have my share of tough days, sad and grief filled days but , in the end? In the end, I keep stretching for what you seem to want to do. I just want to make life better for those who are walking the earth during this same time that I am on the planet.
Thank you for writing and sharing this tender piece. I appreciate the reminders to love this day as it presents itself.
Thank you, Gracie. I think you hear me.