landslides on our shared path

     As the human family trudges and dances and runs along our shared path, thunderous landslides occasionally crash down onto that path. Even if we as individuals happen not to be trudging or dancing or running in the very spot where a giant rock face lets go and tumbles with unthinkable power and weight onto the path, even if we were nowhere near the rock when it fell, it sometimes feels like a narrow, frightening miss, and our hearts thump hard for a long while.
     But these metaphorical landslides slam onto the human path, and so they hit the family. Some people who were right next to us just a second ago were plowed under by the slide, and are gone or terribly hurt. For awhile, we are stunned. We stand and look at the massive pile of rock, trying to take in the power, take in the loss. We look for where the rock came from; it's a natural response, but it doesn't repair what has been done, and it doesn't stop other landslides from happening.

     (There are places in the world where landslides are daily occurrences -- tragedies that happen so far away that we don't hear the thunderous crash, don't notice the rubble or register the missing. I know I have the blessing of being able to dance and run in relative safety. There are those in this family of ours who live in fear, and who mainly trudge and wail.)
     I did not want to blog about the Boston Marathon. But for awhile you just can't write about anything else. It is there, like a giant rock that slid onto the path right next to you, blocking your way. For awhile, things like the Marathon bombings cover with rubble all your ordinary ideas, feelings, thoughts -- everything that might otherwise move about freely. You can't get to those things under the rubble without bowing to a supreme and incomprehensible power, without bowing to those who were right next to you on the path and now are gone.