It is very easy for me to go into that dark place. That dark place where nothing feels right, nothing seems right, nothing looks right, nothing is right. The thoughts of revenge. The purest form of hate in my heart. I reek of anger. As soon as a tiny amount of that anger subsides, fear takes over. I can’t leave my house. This can happen anywhere and at anytime. There is no way of knowing. That is what happens when you fill a nation of free will, an Internet full of make-your-own-bombs websites and sick people. My babies. They are growing up in a nation where these types of horrific acts are becoming nearly mainstream. How many more days will pass before we hear on the news, that yet again, another atrocity has occurred? My babies go to a very small preschool. Whose to say a shooter won’t walk in there or bombs planted? The market? The post office, or is that too cliché? The fear was so overwhelming that as my husband and two sons wrestled in the family room, I had to walk away and silently sob in another room. An 8-year-old boy died. That is my boy who died. That is our boy who died. And I’m sorry. And my heart hurts. And as that fear dissipates toward utter sadness I am overcome with an all-consuming feeling of terror. This is only going to get worse, much worse. And then…
The helpers were the marathoner’s who changed their route and had gone to the nearest hospital to donate blood. The helpers were the people still able to stand, running toward the explosion, I’m sure knowing full well that another one can go off at any moment, anywhere. The helpers were the first responders doing what they are trained so well to do. The helpers were the citizens of Boston opening up their homes to marathoner’s who had nowhere else to go. Helpers are the people who went to the nearest Red Cross blood donation center on the East coast, West coast and everywhere in between. The helpers are the people who called to donate money. The helpers are us. As long as I keep my intention of love and hope and compassion I am a helper as well.
So that calms me down. A lot. And then it starts. What monster would do this?! What was the purpose?! If we ever find who has done this-SHOW NO MERCY! What animal, monster, sociopath would think this is okay?! I hate him/her/them, whatever. I hate them. Hate them and they should all die.
And then…
In no particular order. Just from the randomness that is my head: I love this World. I love the inhabitants. I love The United States of America. I have faith in humanity. I have faith in our common goal to live a free and happy life. I love the helpers. I love our animals. I love nature. I love Martin Luther King Jr. I love President Obama. I love my blog as it is my outlet. I love my husband. I love my garden. I love my seedlings. I love the sun. I love the moon. I love the fresh, crisp air. I love sandy toes. I love the stars. I love hot showers. I love writing. I love romance. I love love. I love school. I love reading. I love making love. I love my family. I love my friends. I love the smell of gardenia’s, ginger flowers, tuberose’s and jasmine. I love fresh citrus. I love that first moment when you enter a very hot spa. I love howling at the moon. I love eating tomatoes off the vine. I love Ben and Jerry’s Coffee Toffee ice cream. I love the thrill of riding on the back of a motorcycle. I love the ocean. I love dolphins. I love the Santa Ana winds. I love rain. I love swimming.
Most of all, I love our children. For them I turn my fear, my anger, my terror – into love. I will seek the helpers, I will be a helper and most importantly I will teach my children to be the helpers.
I love you.
All images plucked from www.pinterest.com
Naturally Green Cooking 