I confess to having had the luxury (maybe even the privilege) to be able to feel so safe in my life that I didn't even think about it. Being safe was a given condition. It wasn't until I went to an art therapy workshop and we were asked to make two drawings; one where we were happy, and the other where we felt safe. Happy was an easy one for me, my stick figure was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower in a beret with a camera in my hand.
"Safe" was a little harder.
I had to reach back and feel more than think.
As it happened, "safe" turned out to be me spending time out in the country with my Nannie and Papa. I hadn't really thought about safe, or how truly safe I always felt with them.
These days, as I watch all that is going on with the violence in the states and in New Orleans, the question of "safety" comes up often. It scares me to see ongoing gun violence and then add in other violence by white supremacists.
The other morning when the sun was rising out my window over the Lot, I had tears in my eyes. I am often "tearfully" grateful that I am able to be here. But that morning, I was "tearfully" grateful because I felt safe.
I honestly never thought that being able to feel "safe" would be something to be grateful for. When did being safe become a special blessing and not an ongoing condition of living?
Pondering Safety?
Happy Thursday!
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