There is a serious fucked up psychic energy swirling around the region. A hurricane of stress -- category 5. We certainly don't have to be reading and constantly watching the network and cable news in order to feel viscerally the morass of tragedy that thousands and thousands of people are suffering through right now. Or not suffering through, because maybe they've just died.
My normally angelic daughter Clara feels this fucked up energy, too; she's projectile vomiting, screaming because of ear pain, and passing out from stress.
Calamity creeps into us through our skin cells, our nostrils, our eardrums. Our subconscious sponges it up. And we're just sitting here: SO FUCKING LUCKY.
What to do, what to do. Volunteer, donate, take in people who need shelter. Pray, if that's your inclination. My primary inclination is to keep these people in mind and keep asking the Universe to work in their favor -- let them have health, safety, peace, love, joy. Those last two requests -- love and joy -- may seem like luxuries right now, but when better to be praying that the refugees may have these things? In my mind it's the best thing I can do for them while they're sitting in a hot school bus, in a line of hot school busses, in a concrete field of diesel fumes, waiting to enter the Astrodome, where they'll be living for the next several months next to thousands and thousands of other traumatized people. LOVE and JOY are things that we can't hand them in cans, can't drop off in boxes or donate over paypal.
Even though I'm not "religious," I believe in the power of prayer. Prayer is another way of saying "mind over matter," which I firmly believe works. It has in my own life over and over. Not 100% of the time, but then nothing works 100% of the time, does it.
George Wwwwwhatthefuckiswrongwithhim Bush is, as usual, at a loss for how to act in the best interest for the people he's supposed to protect. So it's up to us.
Do what you can do, but consider asking the universe for help, too. Please.