Tragedy is the first thing that shows up when I turn on the news, or log in to social media. The cruelty that humans can perpetrate on other humans takes my breath away. In so many ways I want to retreat into the world that I believe existed when I was a young child, where everyone was a friend and anyone would offer help if you needed it.
Besides the spectacle of war, natural disaster, and crime broadcasted on our screens, tragedy has touched my own community, too. A 17-year-old boy’s life was cut short this week, and the high school where my daughter attends has been reeling from this senseless snuffing out of a beautiful life that was just getting started.
Any problems I have right now feel extremely small and inconsequential. I am trying to scrub my memory of my daughter’s keening cries when she heard the news of her classmate’s death. It was the most heartbreaking, guttural cry I have heard, and it seems to have originated in the darkest pit of the stomach. As I hugged her, I felt the pain transfer from her and course through my body as well. I cried alongside her. There was no point in trying to stop it. Not all tragedies have a reason or a moral lesson behind it; tragedies are often just tragedies, and the resulting pain comes in waves when we least expect it.
The human condition grants us permission to cry; permission to feel is a foregone conclusion. I try to protect my precious heart from the news, but it continues to get broken over and over. Each heartbreak results in a scab, encasing my heart in a layer of protective tissue.
One day, I complimented my friend on some photos she had posted of her dahlias, exquisite flowers she was growing in her yard. Each color was prettier than the last, and the blooms resembled fireworks on a summer night.
“Thank you!” she said. These flowers are definitely my glimmer moments throughout the day.”
“Glimmer moments,” I thought to myself. I love that!! Instead of triggers, I started to look for glimmer moments. The more you look for them, the more they rise to the top like cream. Flowers and beautiful sights are easy to spot; also listen for the sound of friends laughing on a park bench, or notice the way a puddle reflects the sky. Savor the taste of fresh bread drizzled with honey. All those glimmers are part of this world, too. Give them the space they deserve.
The world isn’t the innocent place I believed it was when I was a child, and the tragedies are an unrealized part of the entire patchwork quilt. But I will not turn my back on the good stuff, like hope and kindness and love. It is our job to peer through the entire kaleidoscope and recognize the sum of the parts. In all you do, fight the good fight against hopelessness and cynicism.
As much as we have permission to cry and permission to feel, we must also give ourselves permission to rest. It is okay to turn off the screens. It’s okay to claim some silence while taking a walk. It is okay to sneak a nap under a favorite blanket. Let your heart heal a bit, then wake up and get back to facing the things that need doing.
