“Later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers
across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
It answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.”
I came across this poem shortly after the Paris tragedy and the San Bernardino tragedy, and Colorado Springs, Chicago, Syria, Nigeria . . .and I wondered, how do we keep our hearts open in face of such sorrow? How do we stave off the overwhelm that comes from feeling into that sorrow and intensity of pain? For sometimes the world is too much with us, as the poet wrote so many years ago. The randomness of violence can be paralyzing and terrifying , the losses can break our hearts, and yet, as I watched the sun rise not so long ago, a fiery red blazing across the Bay, I thought it's also oh, so beautiful, so precious, it can break your heart with joy. We read about the tragedies, we see it on the news. Can we give ourselves the gift seeing the drop of water splash in a pond, the frozen spider web between the icy branches, or breathing in the sound of a child's giggle.