After September 11,
I remember walking around the paved pathways
of my college campus aimlessly,
sometimes alone, sometimes with friends, but
always in the quiet.
My mind was flooded with thoughts, but I was unsure about
what, exactly.
I was young, and the world wasn’t quite so scary back then.
I
knew there were things to be worried about - feelings to be felt - but it was
confusing
and hard, and sometimes
I felt ashamed for grieving for people I didn’t
know.
I felt as if I didn’t deserve to feel the same sadness as people more closely impacted by the terrorist attacks.
image is my own
I know now, that there is no gauge to measure sadness.
The events in
Boston this week bring the return of that empty feeling, with a lot of tears
welling up and uncertainty as to where to direct my grief.
Similar to those early evenings back on campus,
this week I've been going on slow, steady runs through the pathways
of San Francisco.
My eyes on the horizon, my thoughts pointed east.
There is no gauge to measure sadness… but the same can be said for love.
And so, I
choose to fight fear with love.
Focus on love. Send out love.
