You’ll be in the middle of it, whatever it might be.
And everything that seems important stops. Lights, fans, A/C. All still, all silent. All off, instantly.
Life in a country with a sometimes irrational power grid demands flexibility. And a good flashlight. But the benefits of a sudden outage help to keep us, like a good wire, grounded.
There is silence.
When everything that makes noise halts, and everything that is lit goes dark, it sheds light on how much we’ve been missing. We catch our breath, we pause.
We hear what isn’t there. And it’s beautiful.
Today I lived a different kind of power outage. Not the grid, myself.
Life near the equator means yucky tummy. It comes and goes, more often than it should, wreaking havoc with regularity, adding urgency to the most important question, how quickly can I get to the loo?
And low. Low. Low. Energy.
But this energy, like a blackout, can be good. It slows me down, alerts me to the things I take for granted. Reminds me I need to power up to make it through the day.
First jolt, a hug from Elephant as he’s on his way to lunch.
Second jolt, a whistle (and one back) across the playground to J as she gracefully makes her way, reminding me what’s most important.
Third jolt, a quick chat with a beloved colleague. She empathizes, she smiles, she wishes me well. It picks me up.
Fourth jolt: a shared laugh with Ms M. We have a routine. I see her across the playground or pop into her room. WIthout a word, she points and follows with a deep, grand, heartfelt laugh, straight from her belly. I respond, without hesitation, in kind.
Final jolt: these nine -year olds with whom I spend my day.
I share with them.
I’m not at my best
it’s okay, we can help
And so, I’m here, not fully illuminated. But not blacked out.
And so grateful for the folks who power me up.