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Smell the roses
A Slice of Life
By Win Murphy
Published: Wednesday, April 6, 2011 -- 11:44 AM PDT
You know, I had to do it. I just HAD to do it.
So I did.
I turned off the news on TV — for my own survival and salvation. And my family’s.
I was so mentally “embedded” with the earthquake in Japan, I felt as if I was there, standing in the post-earthquake/tsunami mess in Sendai, watching Anderson Cooper trying to keep up with events. I knew the poor guy had had little or no sleep — he wore that same royal-blue sweatshirt with a little light band of white around the collar three days in a row. But then, showers probably weren’t an option. And who cares, when the world you’re in is falling apart.
It was like a movie — a thriller — fear and terror kept building and building. I might as well have been a Japanese citizen who lived in this stricken northern part of Japan. When the man in the red jacket realized his wife, daughter and three grandchildren had all been swiftly taken out to sea, not to mention his house, he cried and he sobbed. I felt his pain. He’s lost all that was dear to him. How could one not react?
Those two dogs, one injured and lying on the ground, the other identical-looking dog, standing guard and refusing to leave — I was emotionally touched. It’s all true about the “faithful companion” we call dog. When there was an outcry all over the world to save these two particular dogs, I rejoiced, because I had empathized with both of them. I have found that once you love one dog, you love all dogs.
I got so into the pain of Japan, I got heavily depressed. One day they’re all doing fine, the next … devastation.
“You’ve got to stop watching that stuff day and night; you’re becoming Madam Gloom and Doom,” my husband complained. “Why don’t you just turn off the TV and pray for the Japanese people and Japan, like you usually do?”
“I don’t know. Somehow it all fascinates me in a weird way. I think it’s because we’re also on the Ring of Fire. That could have happened here — and thank God it didn’t — and the world seems to be going to hell in a handbasket and I can’t keep up.”
“You’re doing a damn good job of keeping up. You’re more married to Anderson Cooper this week than to me, and you don’t even like CNN.”
“You’re right. I want to know what’s happening, but seeing all the details, and the reruns of the details, climbs into your soul and cries there.” “You’re too dramatic. Now say goodnight to Anderson, make us a cup of coffee, come to bed and we’ll watch Jay Leno or Letterman.” So I did, though I was tempted to click on CNN for the latest news. Good thing I didn’t — the nuclear reactor news was just rushing in and went on for days and is still coming in on the news. The word “Chernobyl” was spoken often. So we switched back and forth from Letterman to Leno, drank our coffee and went to sleep.
“Now, says the husband, please don’t get all involved in the uprisings in Egypt, Syria and all those other countries. People are being killed, including young boys trying to fight. Come on, Win, take the pledge that you’ll get your news from the newspapers, OK?
Will you do that for me?” “OK, honey, I promise.” It wasn’t easy but I did it.
Then I made another decision: I would realize that this world is not just a planet with problems limping around the sun. I woke up this morning and looked out at the sunny backyard, where bright yellow daisies were blooming; the squirrel who lives rent-free in our pine trees was jumping from branch to branch like Tarzan and our indoor orchid plants had opened in the night with a beautiful white-and-purple bloom — gorgeous.
“It’s time you woke up and smelled the roses, Win,” I said to myself. “Concentrating on the gloom and doom of this world as it’s been lately won’t get you anywhere.” I had to go to the Kaiser pharmacy for a prescription, and I zeroed in on the newly bloomed tulips, studying them up close. Each was different and exquisite in its own way. I peered into the middle of a red-and-white tulip, winked, and said, “You’re not a rose, but you’ll do nicely. Thanks for making this a more beautiful world.” I smiled at strangers, opened doors for those who needed it, and didn’t complain in the long pharmacy line.
It was and is good to be back. If you don’t have roses, any beautiful flower will do — you can change that inner you if world gloom has gotten to you. It works.
