We leave for Europe in a week and a day, and I find that I'm already experiencing that feeling of dislocation that overtakes me every time I go away. It may be a function of age, but it seems to kick in earlier each time. Perhaps the roots grow deeper as we age, harder to pull up from the familiar ground. My head reminds me sagely that everything is in flux, but my heart and body resist the discomforts of change. More and more, when the time to leave approaches, I want to stay at home. Impractical, in our case, because our grandchildren live in England, as does my sister and her family, and the only way we can get to see them on a regular basis is to get on a plane and fly there.
This morning I woke early, filled with a gnawing anxiety. Its focus was not the coming journey, though. Instead, the anxiety was deflected into a different source: earthquakes--particularly the much-anticipated Big One. We are not prepared, as we know we should be. It's a foolishness I keep reminding myself to correct, and this morning I lay in bed thinking of those things we need: water, packaged foods, a new first aid kit (the last one we bought must be twenty years old by now,) sterno cooking equipment, gloves and tools... I promised myself the long-postponed trip to the Target store, or Costco.
Meantime, I have been thinking this past weekend about blessings. I plan to post some thoughts in The Buddha Diaries tomorrow. Unless the Big One strikes before tomorrow comes...
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