Enjoy this Blessed Day

Enjoy this blessed day…
I feel so full.
Yet the imagery, of a ten year old boy sitting on the beach dying from ebola sits with me. Panting; hardly able to breath, he’s sitting alone. People too afraid to touch him.
I’m with that.
It’s become a piece of me.
A part of this moment.
In this same moment my orchid is blooming for the first time in two years. Vibrant purples and pretty pinks unfolding into incomprehensibly delicate intricacies.
That little boy… long since dead.
The suffering that is happening at this very moment is happening and real.
On the shores of the Caribbean, the blue frothy waves roll in with their enchanting rhythm. Soothing the ears of those that stand near.
There are children suffering at the hands of malevolent men. Horrors too great to comprehend.
Is this too much? Hold on, it’s much more complex…
Confounding contradiction.
Pulsing polarities.
Apathies and empathies.
The sun is setting over the Arabian Sea at this very moment. The richest reds penetrating the souls of young lovers immersed in their moment. Dreaming of glorious futures filled with their beloved traditions and loved ones.
There are people mourning the premature loss of a loved one. At the same moment, as a result of the very same event, others are reawakened by the news of a matched organ allowing a future they were losing sight of.
I’ve just finished a latte. The rich creamy shot pulled to perfection. The locally sourced ice cold milk stretched to a silky, shiny, creamy texture. The simple syrup flecked plentifully with dark vanilla bean. All of this is poured together with the delicacy and perfection of a seasoned french chef.
I lost my sisters years ago.
Two, two ton masses mercilessly crashing together over a thin sheet of black ice. Michelle killed instantly, Renee dead a day later. A friend I meet years later, the first person on the scene. Without realizing the connection, he describes to me, in grizzly detail, the images that stain his psyche.
The raw face of death.
Death of hope, death of a dream, death of perceived potentials.
This friend and I made a ritual of living life to its fullest potential, riding in the rain. A declaration never declared. He understood, he’d met the grim reaper years before and slipped from his grasp.
Nothing needed to be said.
He’d lost the use of his arm.
His nerves permanently damaged, forced to set down his guitar and sell his motorcycle.
He knew how to live, he knows how to live.
Reinvented, one of the fastest master skiers in the state.
A passion for riding a bicycle in the woods whenever he could.
Fate being what fate is, his legs would meet the same fate his arm met twenty years earlier. The result of a human flying through the air with no wings. Crashing onto the icy earth with the force of an enormous falling tree. His light indomitable, refusing to be extinguished. Another loss, his bike and skis put away, vestiges of the past.
Today with the use of fantastic technology and an unprecedented raw grit and determination he walks, slides down snowy slopes, and rolls over the rolling landscape with pedals under his feet.
Again, reinvented.
You will not beat him, he is unbeatable.
I used to be at war with life, taunting and teasing the reaper. Unsettled, looking for something outside of myself to satisfy my hunger. Discovering myself, a self not defined by flesh, opened me to the stunning perfection of the place I stood that moment.
What was it like to be that little boy sitting on the beach alone? What did he understand?
This is what I know…
I’m that little boy.
I’m his pain and his fear,
I’m his confusion,
I’m filled with his essence.
An indomitable force that propels me to fantastic levels of joy.
You will not beat us, we are unbeatable!
Enjoy this blessed day.