Celebrating Life — HERCULANEUM

It doesn't seem fair that anything is still beautiful after such a heart-breaking event as yesterday at Virginia Tech.

After I read of the tragic event yesterday, I felt immobilized.

I'm a sensitive person. Not in the context of taking things personally, but rather feeling things deeply. As you know, I find humor in many aspects of life. The same holds true for me in recognizing tragedy and empathizing deeply for those involved. I'm certain that I find humor a way to cope in my hyper-cognizant state.

However, I refuse to apologize for being sensitive. And even though watching a cheesy commercial, or seeing our dogs play, or watching people laugh can dampen my eyes, I much rather be this way than numb to the dynamics of being alive.

Some people have stated over the years that they think I'm too sensitive. I've responded with a passionate middle finger, which they're lucky (as am I) that the digit didn't go straight up their ass. I've usually replied by saying that maybe it's them that are INsensitive.

In any case, yesterday morning after finding out of the events at Virginia Tech, I was deeply, deeply saddened. I felt a heavy burden on my heart, not only for the victims, their families, their friends, for the immensely troubled maniac that did this (I'm sorry that you were SO miserable, but why? Why couldn't you just have taken yourself???), but for our society. The tragedy immobilized me, with the exception of my tear ducts. And in disbelief, nothing seemed worth doing.

I shut down the computer and grabbed the dogs and headed to the safest place in the house; the bed. It's always where I feel most secure. I turned on the air filter so that the hum and whirl of it would help numb my reeling mind. I curled up on the bed, with a dog snuggling up to my belly and the other one getting the choice spot of burrowing next to my ass. They think that it's the best place in the house to sleep. The warmest and I imagine the most fragrant. A blast furnace suited just for them.

I pulled the blanket up over us, laid my head on a cool pillow and hoped that when we awoke, it would be a different day.

It wasn't.

I only slept for about 20 minutes. But, it was enough to give me a little push into moving about the house, doing the dishes, putting finishing touches on my taxes, laundry - you know, the by-products of living in an "organized" society.

When Will came home, I'm ashamed to say that I wasn't very pleasant. You'd think that I would be hugging him extra tight on his arrival into our home from the cruel outside world, but I didn't. I wasn't very nice. I think that part of me was scared and wanted to remain distant. I was afraid of being made SO aware of how quickly things can change and wanted to stay in the glum detached mode of how I awoke from the nap.

After we had some lunch, Will and I headed out to run some errands. Whenever I feel as though I'm on unsteady feet, I reach for the ground. Literally. I need to bury my hands in dirt. I need to plant something. To mend soil. To provide space and nutrients and water for a tree, a shrub, a flower - to grow. I have the immense need to nurture life. To feel my hands involved in the process. And to know that I'm not giving life, for none of us has that power all on our own, but I am helping it.

So, I did just that. Will and I bought some more plants for our small patio-side garden. And later that day, I buried my hands in that dirt. I transplanted a hydrangea, an orange tree and some flowers. I trimmed off extra roots and moved lush, rich soil around the base of the plants in their new homes. I watered them and moved them to the area of the patio that will receive the most light. I worked to promise that tomorrow would be good for them. And I felt better.

But I realized something. I realized that tending to the garden is not unlike that of a university, a school, or a classroom. The parents, guardians and professors are the gardeners. And the students are the trees, shrubs and flowers. And these caretakers plant, mend, water and nurture. Working towards what they feel and hope is best for their garden.

And even though I know to the center of my being, that taking a life is ALWAYS WRONG, it seems even more so in the sacred space of learning. Virginia Tech (as other school shootings) wasn't a Convenience store at 2:30 in the morning, or a dark alley, or a subway station at some wee hours. It was a school. And it just seems all the more vile to me to have something so atrocious happen in a place of expanding one's mind and understanding of the world that surrounds them.