Life as a Twig

I wonder
if the twig
knows of
the branch
out there
always
lifting
holding
keeping
touch

or does
the twig
only see
distant
solitary-
seeming
other twigs
unmindful
of the branch
holding
lifting
keeping
touch
with them
all?

8 Reasons I Love FB

1. It's a way to engage in conversation about touchy or controversial subjects in gentle ways that sometimes lead to change – if not of ideologies, at least of how we engage each other.  Sure, the opposite happens where we go off on rants, but more often than not, I am finding wonderful conversation partners about a whole host of subjects I wouldn’t be able to engage in otherwise.

2. Inspiration in the form of the shared thoughts of the greats and not-so-greats, beautiful photography from friends far and near that lift my spirits (special shout out to Linda Elsdon and Celia Rutt) and food for thought.  There’s a lot of chaff to sort through, but the wheat is definitely there.

3. A way to stay connected with folks I don’t run across often even in my own very tiny corner of the world.

4. Outreach from friends and strangers seeking a friendly voice, a kind ear.  It’s my job, but even more, it’s my privilege to be seen as someone to talk to.

5. Candor across the generations that never seems to happen in real time.

6. A way of knowing what others who see the world differently from me are thinking and saying.

7. Some great laughs.  There are many wonderful humorists out there and they make me smile every day.

8. A way to stay in touch with family in a different way, sometimes just peeking into their page to see what they’re up to, reassuring me that all is well, or that I’ve missed an important birthday.

Earthquake?

I admit it.

I am unsettled.

Around 1.52 EST, sitting in my office in the house at the computer, I felt the house move in a way I hadn’t experienced before.  My son and I met each other in the hallway and went outside into the beauty of a very early fall sort of day and stood there just looking at the house.  Nothing seemed amiss and about the same time, we looked at each other and said with questioning voices, “Earthquake?”

Back into the house we went.  Ben beat me to FB from his newer computer and shouted out that it was an earthquake, a big one somewhere between Richmond and Charlottesville, which suddenly seem much closer to us in these western mountains of Virginia.

I went to the church FB and checked that folks were ok and then turned on the news to hear reports, see pictures of evacuations and digest this latest evidence that my security simply cannot rest on the assumption that today will always be much as yesterday was.

Without working cell phones in these hills, I’m so glad for the technology that lets us reach out to those we love near and far so quickly.

But it is television that reminds me more than any other medium of communication both how very connected and how very disconnected we are from each other.  All thoughts of Libya and Syria fled from the national consciousness in the U. S. as reports came in about the quake, while in Libya and Syria, undoubtedly nobody was giving much thought to what was happening beneath the earth’s crust an ocean away.

And reports continue to come in about how far away tremors were felt – as far as Detroit, roughly 400 miles from the center of the quake in Virginia.

We are literally connected, each to the other.  The very earth itself is connected and thus are we.  How often do I need to relearn this lesson?  What happens in Virginia affects people living in Detroit and beyond.  Provincial, concerned only with my immediate environ, is a luxury adjective I cannot afford.

It is my job, as a human being, to be mindful of others, even, and perhaps especially, when they shake me up.

As I said, I am unsettled.

Maybe that’s a good thing.