Taking a break from writing on this sunny but crisp late November day, I gaze out the window onto a beautiful nature preserve that borders the bay. In the distance, a few sailboats glide by for one last outing of the season, while nearby on our deck the nuthatches, sparrows and brilliant cardinals compete for the feast my husband puts out for them.

In this moment I’m overcome with a sense of peace. 

I understand it’s only temporary, but I choose to latch onto and savor these moments of escape from what has become a near constant bombardment of hatred, violence and the horror of terrorism.  

In an earlier post, I mentioned how much I enjoyed the time spent with my characters, how I even hungered for their company. But it’s so much more. It’s my salvation during these uncertain and turbulent times. It’s a tactic for survival, which I’m well aware is a privilege. For what of the victims of these horrendous crimes, those living in the midst of such carnage and madness, whose main concern is living to see another day? What can they do to maintain their sanity, their faith in mankind? And what can one person, such as myself, do to help right this off-kilter world? These are the questions that plague me and send my own ostrich neck back into the sands of my imagination, where I can forget about real life in this sometimes tragic world.

But it takes only a glimpse of kindness, a hint of forgiveness, to reassure me of the resilience of the human spirit, which takes its nourishment from the inspiration surrounding us ~ in nature ~ in the arts ~ in literature. And with this reminder, my shame and helplessness are replaced with a sense of empowerment. For what wields more power than the words we speak and write?