Earthquakes. Tornadoes. Tsunamis . They all happen. And we’re totally powerless over it.
After a few recent tectonic events, there might be nervousness about our expiration date arriving sooner than anticipated. Chile had a quake. Yellowstone had one. L.A. too (nothing new. Yawn.)
It might make some anxious, but the hope is that it also breaks a few of us out of the routines that keep us curmudgeon-y. Here in VA we once had a small quake. It wasn’t a big deal. But it felt kinda like a hypnotist’s snap.
At the time, I was living mostly in isolation. Even as agoraphobic, though, the sudden prospect of succumbing to something larger than my will or hang ups was enough to temporarily free me from a spellbound web of irrational fear. I suddenly had but one directive – reach my loved ones. Just in case something else was coming.
But it really was liberating – that moment when I thought death was en route.
It’s easy to forget the great equalizer that is nature. It’s even easier to forget that’s not limited to catastrophes. Nature means the authentic features of things. And the feature of things is this: none of it’s permanent. Your dog. The sun. Your dye job. Breaking Bad.
Once you accept that, you can head to the police station in your underpants, ride a unicycle back and forth across the entrance, and squeeze a clown horn to the beat of Jingle Bells – and what’s the worst that could happen? Answer that and then answer this: Is that really the worst thing? Probably not. (Unless your answer was “A grizzly bear in clown shoes barrels through the door and eats my dominant arm and both legs”)
Really, though. Worst thing’s death, right? Good news is – that’s gonna happen anyway! Til it does, on its own, something drives even the most apathetic of us to stay alive even after we realize our transience. Most of us haven’t joined a cult to clink cups of Strychnine and benzos. If we’re not saying, “I’m gonna die anyway, might as well just go now”, then we choose life. And anything worth doing’s worth doing well. When we think we might lose loved ones, we suddenly reach out for them – not the meaningless jewels in our cave. What if the disaster just destroyed society – homes, cars, electricity? What would be important then? Other people maybe?
Any jarring large event seems to offer a glimpse of this. It’ll drive us to connect with others, even if it’s just sending a text message from under the covers. Connection’s what matters most. If we do it well when we’re all relatively alright, the hope is that the pain of loss later won’t be compounded with regret.
That said, I’m totally captured by irrational fear. Breaking through it is a daily struggle to say, “What’m I gonna do today that’s scary?” Honestly, some days, it’s just resolving to write something or go to P.T. The perception that pressure or pain are permanent fixtures is a lie. I have to perpetually expose and eviscerate it. Crises like these are great inspo, though.
There was a viral post once, by a 90 year old lady. It was a list of advice. Among the suggestions she gave was this gem:
“Use the nice sheets now. Put on the fancy lingerie tonight. Don’t wait for a special occasion. Today is special.”