The Gratitudes

In the swirl of unthinkable events this past week I found myself gripped by fear and unable to move, physically lethargic and emotionally paralyzed for a couple of days. I know I am not alone, even thought I did not begin experience these events directly.
 
I think a lot has been piling up, all working toward an undesirable result, this paralysis. There was my dad's death and now trying to be a support to my mom, which feels something like being on a gerbil wheel most of the time. The State Department deaths in Afghanistan came next and then wham-bam! Boston and Texas.

It was more than two days before I realized I had been here before. Of course we all were here before with the 9/11 attacks. Some of us who are old enough remember when our president was killed. More recently in 2011 I was "there" when the U.S. Embassy in Kabul was under attack with my cherished daughter inside it. At that time, all I knew was that I had to get to a pond and paddle my kayak. I had a false start. Drove all the way to Curtis Pond without the paddle, but I knew I had to go back to get it. 

That day, as I hit the water with certainly vigorous and maybe maniacal strokes, I was grateful first for instantaneous communication and a daughter who thoughtfully let us all know before we even woke up to the news that she was sheltering in place in a hard building (of course, I wanted to hear from her every 15 minutes that this was still the case). I went on from there to feel gratitude for the U.S. troops defending the Embassy, for all their training and professionalism. To friends who hugged me in my initial panic. For my beloved kayak. I even felt gratitude for the opportunity to be reminded about what was important in life. By the time I paddled back to the put-in, I had a list of ten things I was grateful for. I was breathing again. Still very concerned (no cell at Curtis Pond meant I had to wait until I got closer to home to check my email and Google for the status of the attack, which went on for upwards of 20 hours). Still upset but not paralyzed. My stomach was not totally tied in knots anymore, even though my adrenalin was still running high.

My memories of the Kabul attack came back to me finally about two days after Boston and before Texas. And with them came this conclusion. The only way out of fear and paralysis is through gratitude and love. Very easy to say and know intellectually. Very hard to start moving in that direction from a fetal position while sobbing. At first, I just had to force it, something of a Goodnight Moon approach--kind of mechanical and not necessarily related to the events, per se. I had to acknowledge my gratitude for the books in my room, my comfortable bed, the way the sunshine was coming into my safe house, my family and friends -- the usual but no less valued litany -- before I could move on in a way that let the fear dissipate.

Only then could I feel wholeheartedly grateful for emergency responders and brave bystanders,  determined law enforcement officers, a cooperative public who responded to the request for leads. I could be grateful for the state of trauma medicine in this country (in no small part thanks to wars we shouldn't have been in), to the runners who kept running past the finish line right to the hospitals to give blood. I could be grateful for the restraint shown by our president and the governor of Massachusetts as they promised a just resolution (as opposed to "We'll get those guys."). And for the love and courage of ordinary Bostonians and others who remember, care for, and support those who were injured and the loved ones of those killed. And I remain grateful for instantaneous communication worldwide.

With my extended litany, my muscles slowly began to lose tension. I felt my heart opening again. I was not crying all the time. I could feel the golden light of love (like a teardrop at your heart's center, said a Buddhist nun recently) expand and send warmth and love throughout me and from me to the world. Powerful stuff. The gratitudes will get us through.