Seeking security in my own backyard

Hello, dear friends. I hope this blog post finds you well and safe and secure. I've been thinking about security lately, mostly because it's one of those things that you don't know you have until you don't have it. Some of you may have been reading the posts that I've uploaded on behalf of my dear friend, Heba, who lives in Cairo, the capital city of Egypt. She and her family live close to the city center, close to Tahrir Square, and so they are very front and center of the current events there, helicopters, soldiers, blockades and all.

It seems so very far away from where I write this post -- my back deck with the sounds of birds and cicadas as the evening sets. I am not afraid for my safety, although last weekend when I slept outside in the tent it occurred to me that there might be some backyard marauders who would swoop down on my little faux-camping escape and attack me. Even though I was approximately 50 yards away from my back door, the fresh air and the glorious nature gave way to genuine fear, or loneliness, or silliness, and I packed up my pillows and headed back into the house.

The funny thing is, when I trudged up the stairs to our bedroom at 2 a.m., feeling all stuffy in the house after being outside (I was feeling very James-the-cat, who prowls around all night every night) there was Bob, awake and standing there as if he was anticipating that my backyard adventure would be over soon. Stuffy indoor-air aside, it was very nice. I have no idea how we can be that in tune to awaken at the same time of the night.

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, personal security. Many of us live in a time a place when we can hardly imagine what it's like to feel genuinely unsafe, for the most part. That's why I feel so worried for Heba.

I remember after 9-11, back when I had my international job, how many people sent messages of condolences to my organization. 9-11 to us was a big deal because we had never before experienced such an attack, however to many, many people who sent messages of love and support to my former employer -- people from places like Indonesia, Uganda, Tanzania, Kenya, the Phillipines, Colombian (and on and on) -- such acts of aggression had been already painfully experienced. They knew what it felt like. They wanted to reach out and offer a word of love.

Anyway, here I am, in my back yard, warm air, cool breeze, orange sunset, and full of you, dear readers. Feeling safe, and feeling hopeful. Feeling full of concern and solidarity for my friend Heba, and everyone who lives in some sort of state of insecurity. (As my professional work involves constantly seeking funding for domestic violence survivors, I think also often think of these folks. That's been a whole other eye opening experience.)

Thanks much for coming over to the Bleeding Heart blog.

With love from yours truly,

Natural Born Bleeding Heart

P.S. Speaking of personal security -- I am feeling sick at the verdict just handed down for the Trayvon Martin case. Apparently it's Ok in Florida to chase down an unarmed kid doing nothing but walking through a neighborhood and gun him dead. I feel sick. I feel sick.