Earthquake

At first I thought it might be another tree, or branches falling.  But it was a strange sound and a strange sinking feeling, sort of a low grumble and a shake.  There was something animal about it.  The noise and sense of movement intensified above me and I imagined animals invading the attic.  This was a big noise, more like a bear than squirrels.  What was in the house with me?   I felt the fear of something unnameable.  And then it moved on, settled down and I could hear the air conditioner and the silence above me.  I looked out of the window.  The trees were standing.  I walked into my reiki room and listened.  No unusual noises up in the attic.

A client was coming for a 2 pm reiki appointment.   She would be here in just a few minutes. I had set up the massage table, arranged the pillows, spritzed a little lemongrass oil.   I didn’t want the peaceful atmosphere disturbed by strange noises in the house.    All was quiet during the reiki session except for the soft music I selected, the drone of the heat pump and a few phone calls I let ring.

After the reiki, my client and I sat on my screen porch with cups of Rooibos tea and discussed the joys and difficulties of being global citizens, of how our connection with many places brings responsibilities as well as expansiveness.  We spoke of serendipity and of the strange threads of connections which weave through our lives.

After she had put on her shoes and left, I went to the answering machine to see who had called.  There were no messages.  Perhaps the caller had sent me an email instead.  I logged on. The only new email was from my daughter in South Africa.  She is living and working in a remote area.  Communications are not easy.  I cannot reach her there by phone.    The subject heading of her email was Earth Moving?  Her message:  Heard there's been some earth shaking over your side of the world. Did you feel it? Hope nothing major and that all is well.

It was only then I realized that what I had experienced had been an earthquake. Julia, in a remote mountainous area, half way round the world knew before me!!  I had experienced earth tremors living in Johannesburg and in Nairobi, but nothing about what I heard or felt yesterday made me think “earthquake”.

 My calendar was open on the desk in front of me.  The only other entry besides the reiki was a note to avoid travel on this day. My sister had alerted me over the phone months ago, saying that some geological disturbance was predicted to occur on 23^rd August.    Something may happen, she warned.  I should be aware.  My sister pays attention to such things and shares them with those she loves.  I read the note I’d made for myself and felt something open up inside me ….  like awe, like fear.

I think of these messages traveling over time and huge distances.   And it feels as though protection and guardianship spread like threads around the Globe and reach out to support and inform.   I am buoyed by a reassurance of the interconnectedness of things, the reassurance of some universal benevolence.   I think of the energy of Reiki --   Re for higher universal knowledge, and Ki (like Chi) for universal life force energy.   

My thoughts leap back over thirty years, to another time that I heard the news first from half way around the world.  It was the evening of 10th November 1979.  I was nine months and eight days pregnant. We were living in a soulless high-rise in Mississauga outside of Toronto, Canada.  We faced out over serious highways lined by newly planted saplings. We had only moved there a few weeks before.  I was tidying the apartment for my mother and sister who were to arrive the following morning.  They were already in the air, flying in from South Africa to help with my first baby, which we had all expected to be born by this date.   

As my husband and I cleaned and organized we heard the wail of sirens, many sirens.  We looked down along the highway spreading below us.  We could see a concentration of flashing lights, red and blue.  A forest of lights. The sirens screeched on and on.  I imagined some horrific traffic accident and deliberately turned my focus back to preparing for our visitors, arching my strained back and rubbing the tiny heels and knees which pressed and kicked from within.

The next morning as I put the kettle on for tea, the phone rings. It is my father calling from Johannesburg.  “Have you been evacuated?”  he asks, worry in his voice.   I look down at my protruding belly.   “No, not yet” I answer laughing, “this baby doesn’t want to come out”.   He explains that he is not asking about the baby, but about the train derailment in Mississauga, the concern of a chlorine gas leak, the huge evacuation which is underway.  I have no idea what he is talking about and reassure him we are fine and that we will be leaving soon for the airport to pick up mum and Deb.   The phone rings again as soon as I replace the receiver.  It is my New Zealand cousin, John, calling from Singapore.  “Are you alright, Bid?  What a terrible thing, this train crash.  How close is it?”  Again I have to profess ignorance.  

The apartment looks clean and tidy.  I have arranged flowers, made the beds, and still need to finish the stuffing for the turkey I plan to cook this afternoon as a special North American treat for the travelers.  Graham leaves the apartment to go and buy a newspaper.  Perhaps that will tell us something about this mysterious train crash.  We know the rail line is not far from our block of apartments.  

He has been gone only about 10 minutes when I hear the loudspeakers from the road.  “Evacuate this building immediately.  Evacuate this building immediately”.   (More than 200,000 people were evacuated in what was then the largest peacetime evacuation in North America until the New Orleans evacuation of 2005.)    I went into labor later that day.

It seems, to me, somehow special that the thoughts and concerns of people from so far away are there to support us.  As though that web of caring, by its global nature, has some extra potency, some special energy.

I was very ill three years ago, totally alone and in intensive care in a rough, sprawling hospital in Queens, New York.  I saw not another white skinned patient in the 5 days I was there.  The medical staff – doctors and nurses - were from all over the world. Ghana, Haiti, Guyana, Mexico, India, Nigeria, Russia.  I received such kindness from so many tired overworked people.  There were holes in the sheets, cockroaches in the bathroom.  But there was something about the international mix of the people caring for me that was particularly moving and seemed particularly healing.  

Again that global web of caring.



Comment:   I found myself making a deep sigh as I read the closing. Only then realizing that I had been holding my breath throughout. You are a magical storyteller...with such wisdom to share! Nancy