Focused on ourselves, on our close ones – as if we are the only ones, we experience high and low spots, overjoyed celebrating great days.
Nobody celebrates tragic loss – we remember but who wants to re-live that day which tore our heart from our chest? We remember, each year with less hurt, more smiles, less loss, more appreciation of what we had, who we had, how we had such goodness in our lives.
Some are faces we know but mostly, faces in crowds – numbly putting one foot in front of another. No big picture, no grand scheme. One tiny spot we stand in, one narrow view we take when there is no other feeling to call upon, no touchstone to hold as connection with person or place or time we want so hard to put ourselves back into – like trying to get back into a dream we’ve woken from.
Wake up. Go. Do. There is nothing but waking or sleeping.
We can sit in an echo chamber, our ears to an open window listening for sirens to wail – reminding us that while we sit comfortably and safely. Others suffer injury, loss of life in some unimaginable tragic event. At the same time however, all over the planet and right next door celebrations of births, birthdays, anniversaries of every kind imaginable and celebrations not attached to a calendar date. Just because. These truths are ubiquitous and rarely different.
The differences would be us, ourselves. We all look alike in our realities, but we are different. As different as one snow flake from another.