Horrific violence. Lives lost. Limbs severed. Flesh punctured. Dreams shattered. And on it goes and goes and goes.
In the hours (and days) after a tragic event, we are inundated with reminders of the violent act. The same footage is shown again and again. I could likely mimic Bill Iffrig from Lake Stevens, WA as he stumbled and fell when hit by the percussion of the bomb blast while he ran the Boston marathon. But, I would rather put it out of my mind altogether.
I acknowledge and mourn the tragedy with exclamations of horror and even tears. Then, wrapping my mind around the event as best as I can, I compartmentalize it, tucking it away from of my stream of consciousness after surrounding it with healing, loving, positive thoughts.
A verse of a poem by friend, Kathleen Overby, says it well:
I sequester myself in the garden,
an antidote for the headlines
repeated over and over again --
as if only despair and destruction
could make the front page news.
Because life goes on and I choose to live in light and loveliness.
My sincere hope is that each living victim of the Boston marathon bombing will find a way to redeem this sad experience into something good - even if its simply recognizing the compassion and kindness and hope of the American people.