Hello beautiful people, and welcome to this week’s dose of Celestial Goodness. As always, thank you for joining me in this space and on this journey. I appreciate your time and your presence. So, I wasn’t sure whether I would be able to summon the energy to write something this week and to film my video. Something happened on Thursday that I am still grappling with, and it seems a bit surreal that I am taking it so seriously, while the world seems to carry on as though this event was just another day in the office. I don’t want to make a mountain from a molehill, but yet, my mind keeps wandering back to Thursday. See this week’s video here: https://youtu.be/EzVyLSgSs7g
On Thursday morning, I woke up and went out to the living room to greet the sun. Our apartment has great views of the East and the West, so I am fortunate enough to be able to see some beautiful sunrises, and sunsets.
In the wee hours of the morning when the rest of the world is sleeping, and I can hear some gentle and not so gentle snores from you know who—Plant daddy lol, I get my coffee or tea, talk to the plants, and just marvel at the magnitude and magnificence of nature. Each day is like witnessing a painting. In these precious quiet moments of the morning, I can hear myself think. I can feel my heart beating, and I can be reminded of the beauty of it all, even when the world might wake up later, and try to get me to think otherwise.
So, as it was on Thursday morning, I drank some tea, and then went to take my shower. I have a eucalyptus bundle hanging in the shower, so everything steams up and smells so good. I had to remind myself that I was in fact, not commuting to my home office, but to my actually workplace, and I needed to hurry. It took me a while to get ready, and then I realized that I might miss the train/metro that I planned to take. I felt agitated and a little annoyed. Since the pandemic, the morning trains were running every 17 minutes, and on my line, they were single tracking. I remembered that before the pandemic, the morning trains came every 3-4 minutes. I sort of admonished myself for feeling inconvenienced, when much of the world had been greatly turned upside down by the pandemic. This was just a minor inconvenience.
I walked over to the metro, across a small bridge, and a bubbling brook—leaves were scattered everywhere from a recent storm, and I had to be careful where I walked—another minor inconvenience. There is a small hill on my path to the metro, and I lamented a little how because of the mask that I was wearing, I was literally huffing and puffing, and nearly worked my way into an asthma attack. But really, this was a minor inconvenience. I had my inhaler, and honestly, wearing my mask was not that big of an ask. I made my way to metro, and looked up at how long I had to wait for the train—7 minutes. When it came, I was able to find a seat. I remember how in the before times, the train at this stop would be packed with people. I wondered; would we ever go back to that? I don’t know. I have to change trains, and when I did, I just missed one, and the next one was delayed. I felt annoyed. Why aren’t the trains running timely? I felt inconvenienced.
But I did not need to be in a hurry. I made it safely to work, and chit chatted with coworkers—some who I had not seen in almost 16 months, and got settled in for the day. All of my concerns at that point were about work things—how is the technology, what is my team doing, where should I start that day on my projects, did I have any meetings, where would my friends and I go for lunch? In the middle of a meeting, we started getting alerts that one of the buildings on our campus was being evacuated for a suspicious vehicle. Being on the Capitol complex, means getting alerts all the time for random things, but this felt serious, and it was triggering. Many people that I know still see alerts and think about the events of January 6th. It is never far away from my mind, and so these alerts brought it front and center.
The next several hours unfolded very quickly, and while I was pretty calm, when I made it home, I found that I was trembling—shaking, and very cognizant that the day could have taken a turn for the worse. Long story short, a man came up to the Capitol Complex, parked in front of my workplace, and threatened to blow up two+ city blocks. While some of us were able to evacuate, some coworkers had to remain in the building because of directions from the police as the situation unfolded. My coworkers and I were calm and everyone truly cared about the well-being of everyone else. My phone was filled with messages from friends, family, and acquaintances about the unfolding situation, and whether my colleagues and I were okay. Once we were out of the building, we walked far away, wondering about our coworkers still in the situation, but also relieved to be out of harm’s way.
I saw online that some people didn’t believe that it was real, some called it a distraction for what was going on in Afghanistan, and the rest of the world, and some people later would say, “well they got him, and he didn’t have much in the car. It wouldn’t have done anything.” It was very real to me, and I can’t help but wonder, what if he did have tons of explosives in the vehicle and decided to detonate. Would my loved ones know how much I cared? Would my life have mattered here? Would I have left a positive impact on this planet? I don’t want to dwell on the incident, because this post isn’t about that. It is more about how all of the minor inconveniences of the day, melted away in the face of potential danger. It is about how when faced with “what ifs,” the things that I thought about—the important things in my life really did come to the forefront. It also made me look at my minor inconveniences in a new light. There is a Taoist fable that goes like this:
A farmer had only one horse. One day, his horse ran away.
His neighbors said, “I’m so sorry. This is such bad news. You must be so upset.”
The man just said, “We’ll see.”
A few days later, his horse came back with twenty wild horses following. The man and his son corralled all twenty-one horses.
His neighbors said, “Congratulations! This is such good news. You must be so happy!”
The man just said, “We’ll see.”
One of the wild horses kicked the man’s only son, breaking both his legs.
His neighbors said, “I’m so sorry. This is such bad news. You must be so upset.”
The man just said, “We’ll see.”
The country went to war, and every able-bodied young man was drafted to fight. The war was terrible and killed every young man, but the farmer’s son was spared, since his broken legs prevented him from being drafted.
His neighbors said, “Congratulations! This is such good news. You must be so happy!”
The man just said, “We’ll see.”
I feel that sometimes what inconveniences us can be looked as bad by some, but in other situations, it might be leading to something good. Thursday was filled with inconveniences. I didn’t get to do the work I planned that day, or to have lunch with my good friend as planned. But I did get a speedy reminder to appreciate this life because it is so fragile. I considered myself as someone who loves life anyway, but I felt gratitude to be able to make it home and hug my love, and to tell my family and friends once again that I loved them. I took the next day off, but I was a little agitated. Everything seemed to go on as though nothing happened.
I needed time to process the trauma, and I will give myself the space and grace to do that as it rises up in my mind. I won’t let the fear of what ifs, prevent me from living—from going to work, or from doing anything, but I felt the stress and the anxiety building in me from this. I suppose like the farmer in the fable, I will have to see… I know though, that I do feel more inclined to take time for myself, to tell the people that I love how much I love them, and to savor everything that feels like joy, like happiness, like love.
My message today is that life can bring the unexpected, we can feel inconvenienced, and yet, out of all of that, there might be some nugget of a reminder that we can’t take anything for granted—most of all life itself. I hope that wherever you are this week that the stars shine brightly over you, and that as one friend said to me, that you walk in the light, and that you are protected from the ills of the world.
I shared this quote from L.R. Knost on my Instagram page, and with my team after the incident, but it is worth repeating. “Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world. All things break. All things can be mended. Not with time, as they say, but with intention. So go, love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally. The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.” For everything wrong in the world, I do believe there are always people who will and who are rising to the occasion. You may not see them, but they are there—doing, helping, changing, and casting a loving light on a world that needs it so very much. If you don’t see it, remember that you can always be it.
One small step at a time, will take you further than you ever knew possible. May you be blessed, protected, and may there be divine intervention and intercession wherever it is needed now. Thank you.
Celestial Goodness 