So. Fate gave the Wheel of Fortune a might spin, catching us all off guard. It hasn’t been easy, clinging to splintering spokes as the Wheel hurtled through fire and flood and careened against mountains, as the winds roared against us, striving to pluck us from our purchase.
It’s not over, it’s not done. But the winds are abating, the Wheel’s reeling tempo has eased. We’re dazed and disoriented. We’re no longer in shock. Now we’re dealing — with the disasters that befell us, the life-changing events that surprised us, the consequences of our desperate choices.
Some of us are lucky. We’re going to get through it unscathed. Some will survive, but barely; they’ll carry the scars for the rest of their lives.
Some of us aren’t going to make it.
Some are already gone.
For a Friend Defeated
Be still; let them mock
Lie there in the dust,
Study what the earth
Beneath the Himilayas
Can bear because it must.
Learn silence now and learn
Silence from the fern
That, bitterly oppressed,
Still stamps its delicate frond
In the oppressing rock.
[This poem by Elder Olson was among my mother’s favorites]