Like Hollywood itself, which I wrote about yesterday, New Orleans is another magical, mystical place in the United States. At the bottom of this blog, in my photo albums, are shots from a trip I made there last year. It seems hard to believe that the city is now largely underwater.
This is the St. Louis Cathedral at the edge of Jackson Square Park, the oldest cathedral in the United States and near the banks of the Mississippi River and Riverwalk. How did it fare? Only time will tell.
And how is my friend Ray doing who was unable to leave the city, but wrote about the encroaching Katrina until very near the time it hit? Needless to say, his last entry was the night before the hurricane hit at his My Life Blog. And we all know that New Orleans is in extremely critical condition, but other smaller gulf towns have literally been flattened. Ray, I'm hugging you and Hazel, carrying you in my mind and prayers.
Just as I had to do after Sept. 11 and the tsunami last year, I have to ultimately limit my intake of news as I get more and more anxious and depressed as I watch. I tend not to dwell on the negative in my life, but I also know that sometimes the negative has to seep out to reach peace and balance. Here is an excerpt from my handwritten journal tonight:
Watch one news station after another and the devastation is much worse than originally thought. Hurricane Katrina is probably the worst natural disaster in U.S. recent history. Each scene, each report, is more dire than the one before. Looting on Canal Street, water pumping stations inoperable, people trapped in and on top of houses and buildings, food and water running out--and no way to simply get out. People camp on the high ground of the Interstate to escape the fetid water. Very hot and humid--I can hardly imagine because it was hot and humid in the spring when I visited and it's probably at least 20 degrees hotter now. There but for the grace of God go any of us--though that is ridiculous within itself--as though God could have prevented this and chose not to. Now here comes the spectre of a grim theological ramble--NOT! So, no matter how affluent and well connected people are, they are simply reduced to survival in spite of their status in situations like this. I close my eyes and grotesque animated art of Dante's Inferno, complete with sound, bounce against my mind. I'm so aware that my reaction is a form of projection--over which I do have control. This I do know. We humans fight for control--using our money, possessions, and people for safety buffers. But, in an instant, we can be reduced to hunger, thirst, being homeless, carless, electronicless. All we have left in circumstances like this is the knowledge that countless people are working tirelessly "out there" to save us. I think of Jesus on the cross--My God, My God, why have you forsaken me? And yet, the prayers of all of us around the world unify us in a way that we wouldn't have otherwise. These kinds of disasters are mysteries and I've never been fond of that genre.
This is the mighty white marble statue of Old Man River on Riverwalk, next to the Mississippi in New Orleans. Somehow or other I use him as an image of power and strength. He will do his part to bring comfort to the people.
This banner hangs in the French Quarter. Everyone attempting to survive needs their own grace note right now--and so do we because we feel so helpless.
