Precious and precarious life . . .

Swine flu is the topic of the day. Sounds a little funny, conjuring up visions of Porky Pig. But of course it's not. Like hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, blizzards, droughts, or tsunamis, swine flu is mother nature's most recent dose of Ritalin, temporarily causing us to focus. Today there is less talk about torture, taxes, bailouts, presidential handshakes and prosecutions. With every hour's report that the verified cases of swine flu are increasing, our focus narrows. All of us. All over the world.

It is not that the issues of torture, taxes, bailouts, presidential handshakes and prosecutions are not important. But not as important as survival.

Natural disasters remind us that life is precious, and more than we want to admit, precarious. We have made enough progress so that a significant portion of earthlings are not pre-occupied with basic survival every hour, every day. (Although huge numbers still are) Ideally that frees us to explore ideas beyond survival. Scientific minds are free to experiment. Artists are free to create. Philosophers, theologians, sociologists, anthropologists, psychologists and all the rest of the ers, ians and ologists are free to expand the universe of human thought. Thankfully we do not always dwell in the upper echelons of cognitive activity. We are also free to listen to music, watch Lost, go to races, spend too much time on facebook, work sudoku, play games, workout, avoid working out, . . . the list is endless.

No doubt many of us are still engaged in this freedom today. But if swine flu continues to become a more significant threat, it will capture our focus. I remember the blizzard of the early nineties. A huge section of the country was home bound for several days. It certainly changed our focus. Suddenly the stresses of work and society gave way to keeping the house warm, finding a way to cook whatever you had around to cook, and checking on friends and relatives. As we watched Katrina ravage the Gulf Coast and the growing crowds of homeless day after day on the news, our focus changed. We didn't know what to do, but we wanted to do something. It was difficult to think about going on with life as normal with the devastation of so many neighbors to our south.

And we in Alabama know how things can change in an instant during the tornado season. What seemed of ultimate importance in one moment is forgotten in the roar and aftermath of the dreaded funnel cloud as the only important thing becomes finding everybody.

When we are reminded of the precious and precarious nature of life, our focus changes. Priorities become reshuffled. Natural disasters are not the only reminders. The death of a too young friend. The illness of a loved one. Self-destruction by one with so much promise.

So it has been hard to write posts for a few days. The words are trite. The stuff I love to discuss, argue and joke about suddenly doesn't make much difference. I know it will come back around. I hope it does real soon.

But for now my world is smaller, focused by the whirling vortex of things beyond my control that can take or destroy a life.

I want to run and hide in a shelter, but somehow that doesn't seem right.

Keeping a ditch in sight may be the best I can do.


.