When we were in Truro a couple of weeks ago, on one of my trips down to the beach, I began to dig in the sand at what promised to be a beautiful, black, smooth rock. The kind you find on the shore all over the beaches of New England. I love these smoothed-out ocean rocks and bring some home on every trip. I love all sorts of rocks, really, and with too many to count to choose from the practice is one of seeing, choosing, letting go, non-doing, randomness, and contemplation.
I am part of a larger whole, I am smaller than nature, I am one with nature, I am part of nature, I am perfect, I am beautiful, I am imperfect, I am flawed, where I am is by chance, who finds me, who finds me beautiful, who holds me. I am subject to forces beyond my control.
I dug the smooth black rock out of the sand. As I walked and held it, rolling it around, moving it from my right to left hand and back again, my palms began to turn an orange-y rust color. AHA! This was not a rock, but some sort of iron ore or a shot. The strange thing is, it does not smell like iron and only a slight undertone of rust is visible in it.
I have looked up iron ore on google images, and what I’ve found is definitely rust-colored and not uniform in shape.
I looked up images for cannonball and for the most part, what I found there is much rounder than what I’ve got.
My mother, who grew up during WWII in Nazi Germany with a violent, drunken father, is often in a state of high alert. As she advances in age, I notice that this state of fear is harder and harder for her to recognize and to release herself from. Still, when I spoke with her on the phone yesterday and she said I was really afraid, I knew she had more legitimate cause than usual.
My brother lives in a suburb of Denver and has been to the movie theater where the shootings occurred. I did not for a minute think that Dan was anywhere near the theater the night of the rampage. He is planning a trip to China right now, packing up many belongings for long-term storage. He is cautious with his time, he does not go to many movies. He is not the type to go to a late-night screening of the latest block-buster.
I know you are in a state of bewilderment, same as I am. I know you know that mentally ill people should not have access to guns. I know you love your family and your fellows.
I know you know about human nature and you know that I know, too.
I know we are all in a state of grief even though our lives go on and that we need to stick to the tasks at hand.
Good grief, people. I hope none of you lost someone in Colorado.
This is a really beautiful piece of writing Kath. I feel mentally and physically sick over this tragedy. I wish all the scum of the earth would just evaporate. Your mother has good reason to hold her fears so close to her heart. She has seen the darkest side of human nature, but she’s a survivor and probably a pillar of strength for you and yours. Hope you and the family are having a good summer – xox.
Nothing to say in response, Sharon. Thanks for reading and thanks for the comment. Hope you are having a good summer, too! Love Love Love, Kath