This is a terrible way to die. I'm trying to picture if New York were submerged in water. It could happen. We're an island surrounded by water on all sides. I feel thankful that we don't see many hurricanes or earthquakes.
I lived in Los Angeles for ten years and through several earthquakes. I also witnessed the WTC burning on 9/11 from the shores of Hackensack.
We all speak of dying so casually, always forgetting what it means to be gone forever from the world of the living. Thinking of it as a way to expres how bored you are or irritated or elated. How you could just DIE. I say it at least once every day. I wonder if there is a way to find out if every person thinks of or mentions dying at least once every single day of their lives. It seems just to be an inherent part of our consciousness, to have a constant awareness of death on one level or another. I feel like I do. I wonder if it's just me or if everyone feels it. But for some reason when we say the words "I could just die," we don't connect that to our inherent awareness and fear of death. It's just something we say. Does anyone really want to get in touch with the reality of it? I don't know about you, but I'm still not comfortable with the whole idea and I've encountered death more times than I'd like to have in my short life. While I realize that fear is mostly unproductive, I carry a lot of it with me.
Hurricane Katrina, the tsunami in Asia, the World Trade Center disaster, the Iraqi war, genocide all over the globe - it all makes me feel so fucking unbelievably grateful that none of these events have met with my physical self. Is there an un-shitty way to say that you're glad to be alive while others are dying and suffering? I only sincerely thought I was going to die once in my life; when I was in a bad car accident. Thankfully, I've yet to be taken from this earth. Knock on wood.
I came home from work early today to start my holiday weekend. First thing I cracked open a beer, grabbed my smokes and my journal and went out on the front step to enjoy the open air while writing down my thoughts on everything that is happening right now. My block felt peaceful, as it usually does (unless the Greeks next door are going to battle). Maybe because it is still afternoon and everyone isn't home from work yet, it seemed even more tranquil than usual. The sun was shining mildly and a breeze was blowing and a woman walked by with her stroller looking content and I was there, jotting down the flow of consciousness, and I thought how blessed it was to sit there, on dry land, enjoying a beer and contemplating the suffering of others from this ridiculously comfortable vantage point. I felt guilt. Guilty for being able to sit on my dry step and relax, while people just down the road are grieving on a level that I cannot even begin to identify with.
All you can do is see it through the photographs and the television. You can't even start to imagine being there unless you are there, in which case... the sadness is overwhelming. It's a travesty how long it has taken to get aid to these people. Remorse and sympathy washes over everything as the world begins to understand what has actually taken place. It was the hurricane from hell. The hurricane that took out a beloved coastline and thousands upon thousands of homes and lives, and broke the damn levee that should have been fixed.
Posted by Maria at September 2, 2005 05:29 PM | TrackBack