I’ve been thinking a lot about surrender lately—the visceral act of letting go. Surrender is often confused with its cousins: Apathy, Resignation, Giving Up, and Hopelessness. And although they bear a slight resemblance, they are not really related. In a battle between Surrender and Giving Up, surrender always wins.
Colorado has just lived through a collective trauma. Through it we have learned what is reliable (like community) and what is not (like the roads). One of the most challenging aspects of collective trauma is that there are many people, living side by side, having the same experience from radically different perspectives.
And the gap between those perspectives is sometimes big enough for a car to fall through.
The torrential rains have stopped here in Boulder. And life, for some, is returning to normal. The sun is shining, people are going back to work, and others are ripping up carpets from their basements, or assessing their damages. Stores are open, as are many roads.
But members of our community are still unaccounted for. Lyons and Estes and Jamestown are still underwater, so to speak. And the town of Salina has been destroyed.