I am writing this to you after five long days of Hurricane Sandy, which touched down last Monday evening and did not let the sun come out until the end of the week. I consider myself one of the lucky ones because we were only without power for 48 hours, and save for a single sponge bath that took me back to the days of Lincoln, and momentary panic that I was literally cut off from the world for that time, I came out of the whole ordeal relatively unscathed.
Others that I am close to have not been so lucky, and they, along with so many others in the greater New Jersey/New York area are still in pain. It's scary to think that something of this magnitude can happen in a matter of minutes. It's even more frightening to realize how little control we have in this kind of situation, and how salvation can only be given in the face of mercy.
With this new week beginning, we are all looking for a fresh start and a chance to put the horror of last week behind us. But even if we ourselves are ready, there are still many forces at work that we need to wait for. That's the hard part about it - the waiting. With rarely any boundaries put into place, we feel restless and anxious, eagerly yearning for any new tidbit of information that will allow us to move forward finally.
How do others find the strength to push past and create their own path?
I took inspiration today from an installation built in the woods of Tallinn, Estonia by Japanese architect Tetsuo Kondo. In 2011, he changed the way people walked through Kadriorg Park by creating a winding path amongst the trees themselves, which in effect put the wanderers on par with the lush scenary that this area was made of. Tetsuo did not negatively affect the environment in any way; rather, it was almost as if the structure and the park coexisted peacefully in order to provide something more to passerbys. By working together, a far greater and more enhanced experience was made - one that was bigger and better than what was already being offered.
The level of aid and empathy shown to the east coast recently has astounded and humbled me. I have blogged before about the stoicism and cynicism that permeates New York City, and how I both fear and accept that it is just the nature of things. But through this, I see that we hold no higher commitment than to our fellow man. I desperately want to believe that we are fundamentally good, and that from the darkness, a light is always shown. That cooperation will always be more beneficial than standing alone. That is what will take us to tomorrow.