The Pace of Modern Life and My Earth Tsunami Anxiety/Reassurance Dream

I awoke to news of shootings in two mosques in New Zealand.  As I have written on the news of another shooting, I have no words.  Or, more accurately, I have words, but it feels so futile.

A shooting at a religious site is more shocking to me than other shootings.  I am sad to report that I've become a bit used to school shootings, although I always force myself to remember that school shootings did not used to be so common.  I went to high school in Knoxville, Tennessee.  The high school parking lot was full of trucks with gun racks, some of them with guns in them--but we didn't shoot each other.  We were much more creative.

But a religious site still makes me pause.  And today, shootings in New Zealand, not a common place for stories of violence of any kind.  I've always given New Zealand all sorts of credit:  first to give women the right to vote and resistance to the nuclear arms race, especially in the 1980's.

And it's not difficult to imagine what was in the shooter's manifesto that he (it's always a he) left.  I'm glad that authorities have decided not to release it.

I am weary.  But I was weary before I turned on the radio.  I was out last night at Program Advisory Committee meetings at the Ft. Lauderdale campus, 12 miles away from my home campus.  It doesn't sound like much, but the trip up was in rush hour traffic, and the trip home was in the dark.  And I helped with the technology snafu, which we solved inventively, but it meant I didn't have a chance to eat dinner.

Before that, I helped solve other problems, along with putting out pie to celebrate National Pi Day.  And our EMS team got an award from the American Lung Association; they were one of the top 10 teams when it came to fundraising with the Fight for Air Climb--every one of our EMS students participated in this event that had them climbing 38 flights of stairs, with some of them in heavy gear.

Last night, I had the most vivid dream.  I was trying to outrun a tsunami of earth, like the surface of the ground was rising up and rolling.  It was upon me, and then over me, and I breathed in the smell of fresh turned earth (so distinctive) while realizing that  I would surely die.  It was dry, crumbly soil, with the roots of grass visible--not muddy.  And then, I was lifted up, and the earth receded.

On the face of it, it's an easy dream to interpret.  But then there are other aspects:  who lifted me up?  I didn't feel hands on me, but there was a force pulling me above the wave of earth just before it receded.  Was it God?  Part of the force of the rolling earth?  My own will to live pushing my legs faster?

Today I'm going to rest in the reassurance of the dream, while also looking for ways to be easier on myself and to find a slower pace.  And I'm going to keep dreaming of a day when I don't turn on the news to hear tales of mass shootings.