So Lucky

As the days pass, it becomes more difficult to explain we have and are still going through but since my wifi just went on after four days, I’ll talk about how it was on the second day of the disaster. That was when I wrote this.

The wind was raging endlessly. It went on all day Tuesday and I woke up to it on Wednesday morning. One of my living room windows was loose and it sounded like someone was throwing large rocks at my house. Shingles from my roof were flying through the air and landing on the cement. Two neighbors were braving the winds and picking up debris from the road. My landline was non-operative. And in the midst of it all, I felt so lucky, I could hardly believe it.

I had electricity, I had heat and my refrigerator was cold. The Pacific Palisades was completely evacuated, it looked like a war zone, but I got to stay where I was, in my house, in my bed. People were injured and some of them died. But I was safe. A dear friend lost her restaurant. Her bread and butter. Today, it is completely destroyed. But my computer was working and although my wifi is down, I can still write this blog.

The feelings of helplessness in the midst of a catastrophe are overwhelming. When homes and businesses are burning up, all we can do is watch. A friend called me on Tuesday and said she felt guilty because she wasn’t doing anything. What could she do? There was no way for her to get to the targeted areas safely. Even if she could, the smoke would be damaging to her lungs. Cars leading up to the affected sites had been abandoned and they had to use a bulldozer to get them off the road so the emergency vehicles could get through. My friend had no choice but to stay where she was and stay connected to what was happening.

In times of crisis, it’s interesting to see how we react. For me, part of it depends on preparedness. A friend sent me a text asking me if I had a “go” bag ready. I didn’t. And when she told me what to put in it, I didn’t want to do it. Too much trouble, I told myself. I’m safe. Not a problem. But I forced myself to do it anyway. It’s stunning that I felt like I couldn’t be bothered, that I told myself, “I’m fine. I don’t need to go out of my way to save myself.”

Part of my reluctance was that making a “go” bag forced me to acknowledge the reality of what was going on. How close to danger I was. It just didn’t feel real. On TV, it seemed like some other world, a dystopian war zone that had nothing to do with me. The Pacific Palisades looked like a movie set, but it wasn’t. I had to stop saying, “That can’t happen to me.” It’s pretty hard to stop a fire in the great winds that feel like they’re going to blow your house down but I felt better once I was prepared, even though the situation remained the same. In fact it appeared that I was about to be evacuated but it didn’t happen. I was lucky. Once again.

Although there are many ways to react to a crisis, one way is to become more open and compassionate than before. Being present and seeing how you can help. It may be a simple phone call to let someone know you’re there and you care. Another way is to shut down, to become rigid and refuse to talk to anyone. To pretend it isn’t happening. To become hysterical. To hide away and be absent from the truth of the situation. Sometimes we do some of each.

It's natural to try to connect with people when we’re in crisis but it isn’t always easy. The fear tries to worm its way in and we become guarded and shut down. We think that’s the way to keep ourselves safe. Putting up a barrier of fear between a situation and ourselves creates anxiety and burnout. On the other hand, opening our hearts and connecting with what is happening, letting go of barriers and seeing that we are all in the same boat, can nourish us. We’re all walking the same path. We’re just on different rungs of the ladder. The work is to drop into or center and find a balance.

Crisis rides on a wave of uncertainty. We don’t know where we’ll end up or when it will be over. We don’t know how the other side will look. We don’t know what will go back to normal and what will become the new normal. It’s hard to be this state ungrounded but we will find ourselves there at some time or other.. It’s part of being human. We can choose to isolate in our fear and not let anyone in or we can allow other people to reach into our hearts while we reach into theirs.

In the 1980s, I volunteered at an AIDS hospice. Fifteen beds. Fifteen dying men. I remember telling myself that if I chose to be there, I needed to really be there, to leave my fear and concerns at the door and connect with the person in the bed. I had to remember that I was there to serve and to listen to people talk about their lives and their fears. But it turned out that I was also there to learn about myself and my fears. It was all about turning crisis into a learning experience. Just because I was in the chair and someone else was in the bed, we could easily trade places. Each time I walked into someone’s room, nobody knew how much time they had left. I had a wonderful conversation with a Belgian man who was an artist. He told me that his favorite thing was to eat peanuts. I laughed and so did he. I came back to the hospice two days later with a bag of peanuts, but his bed was empty. I went into the common room, I left the peanuts there and I hoped that my friend was feasting on peanuts in heaven.

During hard times, it’s important to remember that we are all connected. Whatever stage of crisis someone is in, the best thing to do is be there and give them love and acceptance. And listen. It’s okay to be afraid. We’re all afraid. But being there for someone in their darkest time can lift them up and it lifts us up too. IF we find acceptance for our strength of spirit and our bittersweet vulnerability, we can find a way to relax into the uncertainty of life.

People have lost their homes and all of their possessions. I can’t begin to fathom how that feels but I send love to everyone everyone who is going through this. Maybe we all be safe and free from suffering.