Recent days have been a surreal dichotomy. Here, in Arizona we coped with 105-degree temperatures. Yes, it was hot, but we were dry.
At the same time, Texas, Louisiana and Florida residents faced gut-wrenching fear that their homes, assets, even loved ones could be washed away by the hurricanes and floods.
It’s hard to reconcile how we have calm days with what goes on in Washington, Pyongyang, Moscow and other world hotspots.
Anyhow, I ran across an old wine stained cork while searching through a kitchen drawer. It had been there for some time, probably for no particular reason, and it occurred to me that the little cork could withstand the fury and rage of a tropical storm … because it floats.
Think about all the things floodwaters destroy––houses, trees, roads, automobiles that get submerged or upended. But cork? That little guy would bob along no matter what. It might wind up in another zip code, but it would be intact.
Why can’t we be made of cork––at the very least, find our inner cork?
The fears of the world are much like floodwater. We have it within us to be corks. Why absorb all the horrors and make them our own? That doesn’t mean we deny their existence; we can’t. But we can bob along atop the water observing where we are, where we are going and who’s going with us.
Life is far from a good wine bottle that brought the cork to me. Nor is it all floodwaters no matter what the events of the day may suggest.