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Cleaning the Beach
Aug. 11th, 2023 11:04 amAn enormous number of Extremely Bad Things either happened or came to a head yesterday.
To the world. To people I care about.
Not to me personally, I must hasten to add. No, I live what is basically a charmed little life in my Aging Human Sanctuary, pursuing my small adventures, bleating my small complaints.
###
I have this theory—very woo-woo-woo—that every human must confront a major make-it-or-break-it ordeal in the course of a lifetime. If they manage to survive that ordeal, then they get to live out the remainder of their mortal existence in comparative contentment. Karma is a kind of homeostasis.
Like I say, very woo-woo-woo.
###
My ordeal happened a decade ago. It was an extended ordeal: It went on for three years.
And it never entailed the possibility of death—unless you want to count that time I returned from the hospital, miserable, alone, still really sick. And sat on the hideous floor of the Cement Bungalow, thinking, Okay, you really should kill yourself now; it’s the appropriate thing to do. Had enough booze and painkillers on hand to do the deed.
But also had the presence of mind to call my half-sister Jeanna.
Who talked me out of it.
Assuming I was serious.
Which I wasn’t 100% sure I was.
The photos coming out of Maui are horrendous.
There was a complete breakdown of modern communications technology. No Internet. No cell phones.
More than 50 confirmed dead; more than a thousand missing—and no way of confirming they’re not dead unless they show up.
They’re saying the Maui fire is worse than the Camp Fire was.
The Daily Mail hastens to reassure us: That fabulous Maui resort, recently showcased in the hit Netflix show “White Lotus?” Not destroyed!!!
Thank Gawd. Right?
###
The Camp Fire continues to haunt me.
Specifically, the secret videos filmed in the deep forests and dirt roads around Paradise in the days and weeks afterward. Incinerated automobiles; skeleton drivers and passengers.
I wonder if they’re still there?
The Maui fire seems to have been confined to the small post-colonial city of Lahaina, so it’s unlikely we’ll see that type of imagery coming out of it. A more deadly inferno but less graphic.
I donated what I could afford to a relief organization I picked at random.
###
I keep going back to my trope of the Umbrella of Protection.
How do you extend it? How do you make it big enough to keep the deluge off all the people you care about?
But, of course, you can’t. That’s magical thinking.
And on some level, I know I’m a magical thinker because magic is the sole resort of the powerless—children, savages, the beaten, and the downtrodden. Residents of Aging Human Sanctuaries.
Karma is not magic, though.
Karma does not use “people I care about” as any sort of metric. It’s a slow expiation process like picking up trash on the beach. It doesn't matter who tossed the trash: You pick it up. Someday maybe the beach will be clean, but probably not. Tikkun olam anyway: You save everyone, or you save no one.
To the world. To people I care about.
Not to me personally, I must hasten to add. No, I live what is basically a charmed little life in my Aging Human Sanctuary, pursuing my small adventures, bleating my small complaints.
###
I have this theory—very woo-woo-woo—that every human must confront a major make-it-or-break-it ordeal in the course of a lifetime. If they manage to survive that ordeal, then they get to live out the remainder of their mortal existence in comparative contentment. Karma is a kind of homeostasis.
Like I say, very woo-woo-woo.
###
My ordeal happened a decade ago. It was an extended ordeal: It went on for three years.
And it never entailed the possibility of death—unless you want to count that time I returned from the hospital, miserable, alone, still really sick. And sat on the hideous floor of the Cement Bungalow, thinking, Okay, you really should kill yourself now; it’s the appropriate thing to do. Had enough booze and painkillers on hand to do the deed.
But also had the presence of mind to call my half-sister Jeanna.
Who talked me out of it.
Assuming I was serious.
Which I wasn’t 100% sure I was.
The photos coming out of Maui are horrendous.
There was a complete breakdown of modern communications technology. No Internet. No cell phones.
More than 50 confirmed dead; more than a thousand missing—and no way of confirming they’re not dead unless they show up.
They’re saying the Maui fire is worse than the Camp Fire was.
The Daily Mail hastens to reassure us: That fabulous Maui resort, recently showcased in the hit Netflix show “White Lotus?” Not destroyed!!!
Thank Gawd. Right?
###
The Camp Fire continues to haunt me.
Specifically, the secret videos filmed in the deep forests and dirt roads around Paradise in the days and weeks afterward. Incinerated automobiles; skeleton drivers and passengers.
I wonder if they’re still there?
The Maui fire seems to have been confined to the small post-colonial city of Lahaina, so it’s unlikely we’ll see that type of imagery coming out of it. A more deadly inferno but less graphic.
I donated what I could afford to a relief organization I picked at random.
###
I keep going back to my trope of the Umbrella of Protection.
How do you extend it? How do you make it big enough to keep the deluge off all the people you care about?
But, of course, you can’t. That’s magical thinking.
And on some level, I know I’m a magical thinker because magic is the sole resort of the powerless—children, savages, the beaten, and the downtrodden. Residents of Aging Human Sanctuaries.
Karma is not magic, though.
Karma does not use “people I care about” as any sort of metric. It’s a slow expiation process like picking up trash on the beach. It doesn't matter who tossed the trash: You pick it up. Someday maybe the beach will be clean, but probably not. Tikkun olam anyway: You save everyone, or you save no one.
