I teach yoga to the veterans and when they don’t show up I hang out in what stands for their lobby given the coffee maker and odd array of stained chairs.
I chitchat with the mostly old guys who come to Operation Stand Down for companionship and shelter.
A radiant sky turns black. Gale force winds swiftly strain branches and rain ricochets to the sky from the murky pavement in waves. A roomful of heads turn.
Wire rimmed granny glasses and a head of brown curls frame the face of an ageless fellow with an unwavering grin. He regards the storm and me.
“It’s wonderful and terrible! “
“I want to get out in it”, he says.
I agree though neither of us makes a move toward the blitz.
And then it’s over as quickly as it began.
I’m left with the joyful resonance of wonderful and terrible.
Our unavoidable political process
My youngest son
The yoga business
The animals that eat and get eaten
We people that love and hurt and hurt each other
Abundance and the fear of loss
Poverty and the hope of redemption
The rush tinged with terror
A placid pond with vicious mosquitoes
The lightning bolt in a purple sky
The earth’s thirst quenched and the choking flood.
From my singular position to the macrocosm I suddenly realize it’s all the same.
At once and always
This is the beautiful wonder-filled life we were handed
This is the one we were born to love
To want to get out in it no matter its nature, is ours.