The anniversary of September 11th was met this year with the news of a catastrophic hurricane barreling towards the east coast. While most of us were preparing to bow our collective heads and visit the pain of the terrorist attacks of 2001, Hurricane Florence continued to gain momentum, making it almost impossible to focus elsewhere.
The enormity of inevitable pain can be all consuming. If I let myself, I could wallow and worry and wallow some more. Actually I do. I spend time with fear. I imagine loss and tragedy and explore searing realities for myself, my family, strangers. All of it. I can make my heart race and my body tense with the twists and turns of the what if train. I struggle to concentrate and neglect the present. I do this. It’s a ritual of sorts. A fearfest.
Then I snap out of it. Then I take inventory and accept the unknown. Then I extend empathy to those suffering and to myself. Then I research and plan and donate and mobilize. Then I convert worry into action. Even if action means not worrying at this moment.