Surviving.

Today was a difficult day, and this week has been a difficult week. I suspect most of you feel the same.

Last night I slept fitfully, awareness of the current situation flooding my mind before I fully awoke each time. I crawled out of bed before anyone else was awake and made tea. A dear friend called. We talked, cried, and were silent together. I sat on our back porch steps and watched the steam from my breath dissipate.

There's a lot to unpack about absorbing this news, and I'm not going to unpack it here right now. Instead, I want to share this excellent poem, and along with it, a strong recommendation that each of you spend some time alone in nature this week. My hour of hiking in Red Rock Canyon this morning did wonders for my spirit.

The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Today, we mourn.
Tomorrow, we get to work.