When the Earth Shifts Beneath Your Feet
earthquakes and taking risks
At 10:23 am on April 5, 2024 New Jersey experienced an M 4.8 earthquake. I was in a towel on my way to the shower when a roar emanated from the earth. The house trembled and I heard something fall downstairs. Three thoughts entered my brain simultaneously: attack, bomb, earthquake! I yelped and headed downstairs to find a doorway to stand beneath until the shaking stopped. Upon reaching the ground floor, the tremor faded and I stood breathless, looking at my husband.
The earth is not supposed to shift. Terra firma is incorporated into grateful prayers every time I land after a long plane ride. It’s comforting to know the path ahead will be steady. Of course, an M 4.8 is a baby earthquake compared to what Californians are used to, but this was my third earthquake experience and while the scientific nerd in me thought it was cool (after the fact), the chicken in me found it unnerving, especially because it was unpredictable. But inside my reaction to the earthquake was a message, and as I questioned why it bothered me so much, I began to pull at hidden threads deeply tangled in my soul.
After combing through the knots, I was able to name one of the threads risk. This year has been about assessing my creative life and where I need to take more risks. It’s not easy. Often, I hold back because I’m unsure of what my risk will yield. Will it be a success? A failure? It’s unpredictable and so I stuff it away, table it for the future. But I promised at the beginning of the year that I would trust my instincts more often. To practice this I sometimes employ free writing. Below is an excerpt from my journal. It may or may not make sense, but it doesn’t have to. All that’s required is freedom. The id will speak in feelings or pictures and that’s where the gold is:
They tell me dragons aren’t real. But sometimes when I look into the sky I see them, stealthily sailing across the expanse of blue. Their fire is white puffs of smoke and so I’m not afraid. But what do they want to say to me? Do they want to remind me of my power? Are they telling me all fire ends in smoke? That they, like me, are ephemeral and will disappear if I don’t notice them? I fear their message. They come to me at times of daydreaming, their intrusion I’m sure is intentional. I should thank them. They show me colors sometimes and are beautiful in their heavenly armor. I feel I will cry when they leave. If I haven’t gotten the message, it will be a shame, they seem to say. But they keep coming. And I hope I never miss them.
Honestly? I haven’t quite figured out what this means. Maybe it’s gibberish. Maybe it’s leading me to something else. But free writing helps me glimpse emotional risk in the shadows as well as the light.
The reality is the earth moves beneath our feet many times a year, but most times the tremors are so small we don’t even notice. Take a look at how many earthquakes are tracked around the world yearly: USGS.
We only hear of the big ones like the M 7.4 earthquake on the eastern coast of Taiwan in early April and the resulting aftershocks. Similarly, we might only hear about the big tragedies in our friends or family members’ lives, not knowing the earth may be shifting beneath their feet daily.
It’s become so important to me lately to take risks, even small, personal risks like sharing a journal entry. When I look out at the world and see so much rancor, I feel I want to scoop up every bit of happiness and beauty. I want to live fully and freely. When the earth shifts beneath my feet, it reminds me a walk in the fragrant, spring sunshine is precious. Baby feet in the grass are precious. The minutes ticking by are precious.
I think I’ll take a bowl full of risks and see where they lead.
Until next time,
Jan
*Looking for a spooky read? Try my short story Gator Eye Lake!
Jan- Your tender yet sharp writing here makes me really look forward to the purple shades of spring and summer this year. What a beautiful piece.