THE BROAD SPACE

As the relative order of life continues to dismantle itself, I reach for calm. I look for anything that will breach the discomfort. An idea, a loved one, a poem, a painting, a song. This morning I reached out to our children. Just a text, "Checking in. Are you ok?" I heard from both. That helped. Later in the day I received a text from our son. He had been digesting the reality of bombs dropping far away, but not so far away. The desperate logic of wrong thinkers in the middle of a meltdown. String-pullers in high offices setting the world on fire for their own agendas. Not mine. Not yours. Here are his words: "Hadn’t seen the news yet when we spoke earlier- been thinking about it most of today while doing chores. I said this to dad but I think this is (mostly) the america weve always lived in, not to say it’s okay- but to say we know so much more now, so in some weird way maybe finding ways to use our voices is the opportunity to grow into the myth of Americ...