Lots of water around here. In a place usually high and dry. We had 17 inches or something unreal in two days. And then some. Creeks rose, people died, houses and roads were swept away, farmland washed to Kansas. Incredible. Many, many people affected by wet basements, bridges out, no electricity, no gas for heating, and no internet. Yes, no internet.
Down in the Flood
The recovery will be long in coming, even with many people and organizations performing heroically. You do what you have to, but it’s hard no matter whether your house is washed away or your basement is wet. All those memories, touchstones, photos, irreplaceable objects from paintings to marbles, old ticket stubs, notebooks, drawings, yearbooks, and on and on, soaked, gone, hauled to the dump.
When you drive around, most stuff looks normal and everything is green, as it is in spring. But then you turn the corner and the dumpsters are at the end of each driveway or a drift of mud blocks your way or a pile of sandbags stands as evidence of the amount of effort that is taking place. There are many places you can’t get to and many people who can’t go anywhere.
There is tragedy everywhere in this world and each individual’s struggle and suffering, no matter the degree, is still struggle and suffering. Not only natural disaster, war, and disease, but also hate, anger, and fear. Not only flood, but cruelty. Not only bombs, but brutality, abuse, injustice. Perpetrators, aggressors, and followers. Greed, power, and indifference. Compassion for all is in order. Empathy and imagination, sympathy and attention is needed.
Seeing clearly is necessary, helping when and as we can is a responsibility, remembering that it is this moment, this world, and this life that we are alive for is a duty. Through it all, there’s a need and a capacity for music. It’s here for celebration and inspiration, but also for comfort and connection.
Here Comes The Sun