Aware & Awake
With age comes clarity, and with clarity comes realization and enlightenment. And occasionally, sadness follows as your eyes open to the world, and you realize how lucky you were to be so young and ignorant. There were times when I simply failed to acknowledge reality, and in some cases I consciously shut it out. But no more.
I usually don't write about sad things, but something is happening close to home that has been on my mind for the last week. Wildfires always sweep parts of the country in the heat of summer, but this year, the state I grew up in has been viciously attacked by the flames. Colorado has been burning, and many people I grew up with who still live there (some in the heart of Colorado Springs) have been deeply affected.
Watching news reports online, chatting with friends and family and looking at devastating pictures, it's easy to fall into a state of shock and depression. I spent the better half of this week constantly worrying and thinking about everyone and hoping and praying everything was okay. Half of me wanted to drop everything, fly out to Denver, grab a bucket and start hauling water from the nearest stream/river/well/house. I felt guilty looking outside, wishing the pacific northwest rain would go away so we could get some sunshine. So I started wishing the rain would head southeast, across a 1,000 miles and beyond, and conveniently drop in Colorado. Feeling helpless and unable to escape Seattle to physically do something to help, I just started praying.
Earlier this week, in a wild spin of fate (as if I needed to see it and hear it) I discovered Katy Perry's song "Wide Awake". I watched the video online, and suddenly realized what it was about. With the world waiting for her to crumble, she kept true to herself and kept going. With everything falling down, she refused to give up. Say what you will about Katy, but I love her attitude and positivity, and the artistic vision and deeper meaning behind this song is beautiful.
It got me thinking about the power of the fires, and how easy it would be to give up. But despite the pain, there's a twinge of hope, a sense of being aware and alive, and awake. In the face of adversity you can stand tall, and even if you fall down, you can rebuild. There's a light inside that nothing and no one can take away from you, no matter what happens.
I'm clinging to that hope, to that light, and trying with all my strength to share that light with anyone whose heart and home may be breaking down. I'm praying for the people who had to leave almost everything they own behind, who had to willingly walk away knowing they may never see it again. To the people in Colorado, Utah, Montana, and everywhere else where there may be fires or floods or earthquakes or storms, you are thought of, you are prayed for, and you can start again.
I usually don't write about sad things, but something is happening close to home that has been on my mind for the last week. Wildfires always sweep parts of the country in the heat of summer, but this year, the state I grew up in has been viciously attacked by the flames. Colorado has been burning, and many people I grew up with who still live there (some in the heart of Colorado Springs) have been deeply affected.
Watching news reports online, chatting with friends and family and looking at devastating pictures, it's easy to fall into a state of shock and depression. I spent the better half of this week constantly worrying and thinking about everyone and hoping and praying everything was okay. Half of me wanted to drop everything, fly out to Denver, grab a bucket and start hauling water from the nearest stream/river/well/house. I felt guilty looking outside, wishing the pacific northwest rain would go away so we could get some sunshine. So I started wishing the rain would head southeast, across a 1,000 miles and beyond, and conveniently drop in Colorado. Feeling helpless and unable to escape Seattle to physically do something to help, I just started praying.
Earlier this week, in a wild spin of fate (as if I needed to see it and hear it) I discovered Katy Perry's song "Wide Awake". I watched the video online, and suddenly realized what it was about. With the world waiting for her to crumble, she kept true to herself and kept going. With everything falling down, she refused to give up. Say what you will about Katy, but I love her attitude and positivity, and the artistic vision and deeper meaning behind this song is beautiful.
It got me thinking about the power of the fires, and how easy it would be to give up. But despite the pain, there's a twinge of hope, a sense of being aware and alive, and awake. In the face of adversity you can stand tall, and even if you fall down, you can rebuild. There's a light inside that nothing and no one can take away from you, no matter what happens.
I'm clinging to that hope, to that light, and trying with all my strength to share that light with anyone whose heart and home may be breaking down. I'm praying for the people who had to leave almost everything they own behind, who had to willingly walk away knowing they may never see it again. To the people in Colorado, Utah, Montana, and everywhere else where there may be fires or floods or earthquakes or storms, you are thought of, you are prayed for, and you can start again.
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