This shabbat: I walked, met new people walking as well, read quietly, visited with a friend over lunch, actually took a shabbos nap for the first time in a long time.
This evening, I slide from shabbat back into the week.
And I hear of the fires devouring California, and of a friend preparing to host, in her tiny place, G-d-knows-how-many who are escaping the flames with nothing but what they can carry.
Our world is burning; it was preventable, and we have allowed it.
The year I lived in Los Angeles was the first year the price of oil rose precipitously, and we waited in long lines to fuel our cars.
"Mark my words," a friend predicted in shock and horror, "the price of gasoline will rise to fifty cents!"
When I think of all we could have done since then to prevent the horrors happening now---
My awful imagination conflates the current justified outrage with scenes of the French Revolution in Dickens' A Tale of two Cities. When and how will we hold accountable those who promote an untenable way of living, and who will sell our planet and our future for personal wealth?
What are each of us doing to help put out the fires in our world?
I have learned that the best response to my own outrage us usually to pray like hell, then to get quiet and wait to hear.
The week has indeed begun.