My visit to Tucson was such a joy. It could not have been better. My two journaling programs were well-received, which always makes me happy. My rental car was a zippy 2018 fire-engine red Kia Soul—not my usual kind of car, but it’s all that was available in my category—and I had a ball driving it. I went back to some favorite restaurants, as well as some new ones, and enjoyed every meal. But the best part of the visit was reconnecting with friends I hadn’t seen since Ken and I moved away in 2011, or even before then.
In every single case, it felt as if we had been together just yesterday. We all picked up right where we left off and caught up with what’s been going on in our lives. It brought me great joy to know that, despite being physically separated by many miles, our heart connections are still strong and thriving. I relish my friendships with all of them: Marilyn N., Becky, Marge, Meira (and Jasmine), Laurie, Norm, Nan, Dave, (and now Rhonda), Wendy, Val (and now Steph), Susan, Allen, Todd, Joy, Steve, and Marilyn G.
Then, several days after I came home to Indiana, the morning news blared with the tragedy in Las Vegas, with the tally eventually reaching 59 dead and more than 500 injured, all at the hands of one man high up in a hotel room stocked with way, way too many guns. My joy was blasted away, replaced by shock and sorrow.
I’ve been struggling since then, seeking solace and wondering, as are so many, why we continue to let this kind of horror happen. I have no answers, only a heart that keeps threatening to close itself off in self-protection against yet another senseless, horrific tragedy—perhaps one that will fall upon someone I love.
I refuse to let that happen, though. So I keep turning to my journal. Into its pages, I pour out my anguish and my questions, my fears and confusion. Imagining what it might be like for the families of the 59 and the many injured and their families, I wrote about how it feels to hear the news that someone you love deeply is suddenly in ICU because of another’s actions and it’s too early to know how your lives might be changed forever. Those feelings of terror and utter helplessness, bewilderment and anger all flooded back to me.
And I keep returning to writing about what is good in my life—there is so much good—and my gratitude for all of it. And I write about the love that is always, everywhere present—one deranged man did so much damage, but look at the many more people who took great risks to protect others, saved lives, drove the wounded to hospitals, lined up to donate blood, tended to and comforted the wounded and their families. Right now, those things seem small in the face of the gigantic horror that was visited upon a peaceful, happy concert—but that’s what important and what we must cling to. As this quotation attributed to Mr. Rogers says, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” Because in that helping is much love and goodness we need to remember.
Despite what the 24-hour news cycle would have us believe, there is infinitely more good in the world than bad. It’s hard to see it on many days, I know. But it’s true, so pay more attention to what’s good in your life. Remember that your brain physically changes depending upon what you think about: neurons that fire together wire together. Do your best to seek out and concentrate on all the good in your world, in this entire world. Write about it often. Talk about it. Cherish it. Savor it. This does not mean to bury your head in the sand or to be a Pollyanna; it’s still important to take healthy, positive action, whatever that might be for you. But remember that putting energy into something makes it grow stronger within you and in the world, so take care of yourself and choose carefully.