As I write this, plunked on my couch with a hot cup of tea sitting on the table beside me, I see squirrels swishing up the tree, and hear raindrops falling on the window pane. I’m at home on a wonderful California morning.
A few mornings ago I was woken up by a phone call at 6-o-clock. It was my sister from India. She was watching the news.
On my television set from appx. 5000 miles away, the views of Japan were heartbreaking. I don’t have family or friends in Japan, and I can hardly imagine the shock of the people who do. But I cannot even fathom what the people in Japan would be experiencing right now.
On my television set from appx. 5000 miles away, the views of Japan were heartbreaking. I don’t have family or friends in Japan, and I can hardly imagine the shock of the people who do. But I cannot even fathom what the people in Japan would be experiencing right now.
Over the past few days I have been absorbed and inspired by stories of courage and compassion of the Japanese survivors, and I’ve wondered about the contrasting nature of events in life, and in the world:
There are crimes and tsunamis; technological breakthroughs and remarkable service work, all co-existing around us. Even in our capacity as students, consumers, co-workers and businessmen, we are constantly exchanging ideas and opinions. A large part of what we own, eat, learn and use comes from another corner of the world.
We all are connected, yet many times we value it less. As ferocious as the situation in Japan, it gives us an opportunity to whole-heartedly pray, be content with what we have, and value the freedom we enjoy. This is also the best we can do for those who were swept away by the tsunami: we can love more and be grateful.
