Yesterday, I appreciated the notification of a possible tsunami.  A helicopter flew and hovered overhead. This morning I find myself remembering different translations of the words of Masahide:

My house burned down

I now see

The rising moon.

or

Barn’s burnt down —

now

I can see the moon.

When I got the notice to move to higher ground, though my house is safe, I left because my medical appointment required dipping down to drive by the bay.  Though the notice was cancelled by the time I arrived, the office, which is by the bay, was still in a tizzy.  They had evacuated, but my ophthalmologist said at first she didn’t know where to go, and then she thought of what it would be to leave and learn everything was gone.  It was a time to reflect.  Yes, though everything had returned to normal, what might have happened.  Like that, change.

My meditation practice is about impermanence and interdependence.  I think the political news has us all awake recognizing impermanence and interdependence.

I come to the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson:

The mind, once stretched by a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions.  

We’re being stretched.