MONSTER BENEATH

I've been through four earthquakes, two in Hawaii and two in Indonesia. The first one in Hawaii was little more than a rumble. I thought it was caused by a super heavy truck passing by. It did make the house shake, but just for a moment. The second one was only a couple of years ago. That one did quite a lot of damage on the Big Island. I was downstairs in the kitchen preparing breakfast when I heard a tinkling sound. I looked around, then seeing my collection of coffee mugs hanging on hooks on the wall clinking against each other and going at it faster and faster that it dawned on me that it was an earthquake. As the floor heaved under me I drunk-stumbled my way to the protection of a door. As soon as I reached it the shaking stopped. I ran upstairs to Phil who was still in bed. He's lying on his back, sheets drawn up to his chin, eyes big as saucers.
"That was an earthquake, Phil!" I shout at him as if he doesn't know.
"Yeah," he says quietly without moving, "You didn't have to do all that to wake me up."

The very first earthquake I remember occurred in the middle of the night when I was (I think) 12 years old, living in Balikpapan, East Kalimantan. The bed was shaking so violently that I thought there was a monster underneath who would grab my legs if I tried to get out. For weeks afterward getting up in the morning meant moving myself (careful, careful) into position... shhh... quiet... don't wake him up... almost there... ready?... ready? ... Yes NOW!!! Jump as high as I can, as fast as I can, as far away as I can!!! Away from the bed!!! Now run!!! Whew... safe! Funny (or sad) how at 68 I still act like that, earthquake or not. It's just harder to jump now.

Last month's earthquake didn't make me think of monsters or jumping. The heaving house, swaying bed posts, billowing mosquito net, held me still, captivated, as if I was in a theater watching a movie. Only after things quieted down did I get excited and, nerves tingling, wanted and waited for more. I learned again what a drama monkey I am, at least as long as I don't get seriously hurt. I love to tell you about hurricane Alicia that damaged and destroyed the houses around us but kept ours perfectly intact, and the head-on collision that totaled the car but left me with only a foot scratch and a chunk of insurance money. There's a pattern here, wouldn't you say?

Right or wrong, the message is: Let go. Let go of attachment. Let go of things like my brand new colorful set of dishes. I love them. They come with a great story about how I got them in the first place. A big earthquake would shake those sweet dishes off the shelf and shatter them into a million pieces. Let go of the dishes. Clean up clutter. Clean up your closet. We came to Bali with so little, but look what a mess our closet is in now. Lose weight. I know, I know... Let go of the need to be special, or better than. Oops, stop. We're getting "Father, I have sinned" confessional here. See what happens when you're married to a devout Catholic?

The earthquakes in Sumatra are no joking matter. Being trapped under massive layers of rubble is the stuff of nightmares. Don't we all live on the Ring of Fire now? How then shall we find beauty and rightness amidst suffering? That is my question.