My Little Golden Book of Phobias

It's been a week. The women's march in the cold wet Seattle streets. We met in my living room for poster making and tea. We ducked out of the march to warm up and eat Thai food.

The next day I headed over to Bainbridge Island to see my dear dance teacher. I walked on and managed to take the wrong ferry and went to Bremerton. Oops. I came back to Seattle, got on the right ferry and about 10 minutes into the ride, witnessed a woman my very age step over the railing and fall into Puget Sound. She left a pair of shoes and a note and she said to a group of young women who were standing nearby, "I'm going now."

At first I couldn't believe what I was seeing...then people were screaming and running around, yelling for the captain to stop the ferry. These are giant vessels, not easy to stop. Someone threw a life preserver in the water near her but she was far away by the time a dinghy went after her with a rescue crew. They scooped her up and brought her back the the ferry. We headed back to Seattle where she was met by paramedics and an ambulance. 

I'm exhausted today. What cheers me is to look at my living room carpet sparkling with glitter from our women's march signs. Right now I'm writing this post with a down comforter on my lap and the dog beside me. My body is tired and sore and so is my heart. 

This morning I gave a talk about the 'undefended heart.' It's hard, comrades, to stay open to the world as it is. We do our little part to understand the roots of suffering and to heal ourselves, for the benefit of all beings. The woman on the ferry is with me today, her gesture, the shoes she left behind and the sobbing teenagers who watched her flight. How hard it is to stay here and feel the pain. We know. We're holding you in kindness. May you be well. May you be at ease.