This week we went to see Cirque Zuma Zuma – an amazing African circus troupe representing many countries in Africa – perform at our local theatre. Michael and I had to sit a row apart. I was sitting next to a cluster of UVM students who were out for the evening – one young man wearing a tie and four women all dressed for an evening out. (The show was co-sponsored by the UVM Diversity committee) All of the students were on their cell phones, texting. They were occasionally talking. Clearly they were engaged both with each other and their cell phones. It was impressive.
The last few weeks have been very intense on many levels. Soon after journeying home from Hong Kong and India (you can read a lot about our trip on Michael’s blog Dreaming the World) and finishing our jet lag, things began rocking literally in Boston. As I am from Boston ( my grandparents lived 2 blocks away from the area where the explosions hit at the finish line of the marathon- my father and stepmother, 3 blocks away) this really did hit home for me. This area was my stomping ground. The Boston Public Library, just across the street, was my library of choice- The BPL was right across from the explosions. As well, one of my sons is an art student at college in Boston.
The week this happened, 2 of my colleagues from Bangladesh were visiting. They were here to present at the psychodrama conference in Washington, and they came up to Vermont for a change of pace and more conversation about the future of Playback in Bangladesh. As well, they were introduced to snow, and we had a lovely day taking them around to sites such as the Notch, Trapp Family Lodge, and our state capital of Montpelier where we had dinner with Herb and Joanne. (Herb just won the JL Moreno award at the conference for his psychodrama work in Bangladesh), and to explore life in Vermont.
Bombings were something they had familiarity with. Certainly things can get rocking in Bangladesh. That I know from my own experience of the many times we canceled a day of training due to the government hartel (shut down of all public transportation and businesses) due to protests in the streets. We had rich conversations about what we get used to, and how important it is to see the beauty in between all the rocky and hard stuff. Otherwise one becomes hard and jaded; one becomes disconnected from what really matters at the source of all that is really important. One, in fact, could become paranoid. Since the bombs went off because of being triggered by a cellphone, one could become paranoid about anyone using a cell phone near them!
I have to say that I was greatly relieved to hear my son’s voice on that Friday during lockdown. While it was a glorious spring day, I wouldn’t leave the house until I knew where he was: safe in his dorm and trying to focus as best he could on end of school projects and paintings. He went into the studio that day and painted. Art is the great healer.
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