The other side

The freeway is open again after it being closed for 2 weeks.

21 of the 23 missing are accounted for and deceased.

The final two are children, a 2 year old and a 16 year old

The search dogs are still seeking and are still hoping to find them.

It has been a surreal experience to say the least. 

Even as someone on the outer edges of the actual event.

Our towns are small and friendly and everyone knows someone.

I mean EVERYONE knows someone.

I was away from my yoga community for two weeks and it felt like an eternity.

I got a couple emails checking on me and seeing how I was on the other side of the mud

I took the train into work once, as it was allowed through the slide area, but not automobiles.

It was a 12 hour process from start to finish for a 40 mile commute and 6.5 hour workday

I spent most of my time think and hoping that search and rescue would continue to find people.

I also finished some artwork that is opening in a museum show next weekend.

That time was a gift, as I was able to work on it almost uninterrupted and without concern.

A local yoga studio opened last week, and I had purchased around Xmas a pre-opening special pass for a month of unlimited classes. So I was thankful to get into a studio to practice and work my kinks out. My whole body ached, my mind went to dark places way to quickly and I was not sleeping much at all. I was glad to get into the first class this last Friday and then again on Sunday.

I was able to drive to work on Monday and did yoga at my normal studio and it was strange 

(I can not find the right word to describe the new reality).

A lot of the people in class are still evacuated from their homes, and I heard more stories of loss and lives gone and last moments.

It was like having a javelin thrown into my chest over and over again.

My job was to simply listen and hug and listen some more.

I was glad to be among my community, and even though I could feel the pain and sadness it was still nice to be able to be there for people and with people.

A comfort of sorts for my bruised heart.

It has been quite a whirlwind of stress these last couple of months!

Fire and rains and mudslides.

I do feel like as the little sprouts of green start to appear on the hillsides across the street, that things are beginning again, regardless if we are all ready. 

I am thankful for that reminder from Mother Nature, as bittersweet as it is.

I remember when my bruises and puncture wounds began to heal on my body; I was sad that there were no longer external signs of the suffering from infertility. 

Instead it was reminding me to be thankful that my body is still powerful and capable of healing.

 In the same way, our hillsides are starting that same process, of healing themselves again. 

That is to be applauded and admired.