A Philosophical Standpoint
Where is Home?
For those of you have lost all that you have, we cannot even comprehend how tremendous this loss is! No, It is not easy. It is unacceptable and frightening. The bleakness, the years of your struggle, the loss of family treasures, important documents, children's textbooks and notebooks - the list is endless. There is no easy way to come to terms with this. And yet can this be a chance that gives you a turning point?
We know there are no easy answers. But like we said, this is a gesture towards hope, resilience and perhaps reflection for rebuilding all our lives more meaningfully because we now have a chance to start all over again. As brutal as it is, it is again a new dawn, a new challenge, a new beginning!
We share writer PICO IYER's experience and hope it will provide you with a different perspective, a chance to find a way to that which is your essential core.
"I lost every last thing I had in the world," Iyer tells Oprah in the above video. "I saw the fire slowly pick apart my house, systematically reduce everything to ash... The only thing I had in the world was a toothbrush, which I'd just bought from an all-night supermarket."
The experience forever changed him, and marked a turning point in Iyer's life.
"I always had that sense that home was not where I lived, but what lived inside of me.
When our house burned down in the forest fire, that became literal," he says.
The morning after the fire, Iyer had a profound realization. "When it came to replacing the things that we had lost, of course, I realized there wasn't that much I really needed... It was a lesson in what we really need to survive and what we don't," he explains. "All the most important things -- memories, photographs -- they were gone. Couldn't hold on to those. All the things that I needed for day-to-day life weren't much more enormous than a toothbrush and a few clothes and certain necessities.
"Luxury is a matter not of all the things you have, but all the things you can afford to do without," he continues.
With this newfound perspective, Iyer says he didn't feel so devastated by his losses -- and each time he would find himself thinking wistfully of the "what ifs" that could have helped him save certain treasures, he would quickly remind himself of the far less fortunate outcome he could have faced."
"Occasionally, I would think, 'If only I had five minutes more, I could have gathered everything precious,'" Iyer says. "But then I thought, 'If only I had five minutes less, I wouldn't be alive.'"
Even the loss of years' worth of writings left the author with a strange sense of freedom. "In some ways, I thought I'm liberated from a lot of things -- even from my dream of being a writer," he says. "Those were pre-computer days. My next, probably, seven years were all in my handwritten notes. And I lost my passport. In some ways, I lost my future."
To see the full video click here
For those of you have lost all that you have, we cannot even comprehend how tremendous this loss is! No, It is not easy. It is unacceptable and frightening. The bleakness, the years of your struggle, the loss of family treasures, important documents, children's textbooks and notebooks - the list is endless. There is no easy way to come to terms with this. And yet can this be a chance that gives you a turning point?
We know there are no easy answers. But like we said, this is a gesture towards hope, resilience and perhaps reflection for rebuilding all our lives more meaningfully because we now have a chance to start all over again. As brutal as it is, it is again a new dawn, a new challenge, a new beginning!
We share writer PICO IYER's experience and hope it will provide you with a different perspective, a chance to find a way to that which is your essential core.
"I lost every last thing I had in the world," Iyer tells Oprah in the above video. "I saw the fire slowly pick apart my house, systematically reduce everything to ash... The only thing I had in the world was a toothbrush, which I'd just bought from an all-night supermarket."
The experience forever changed him, and marked a turning point in Iyer's life.
"I always had that sense that home was not where I lived, but what lived inside of me.
When our house burned down in the forest fire, that became literal," he says.
The morning after the fire, Iyer had a profound realization. "When it came to replacing the things that we had lost, of course, I realized there wasn't that much I really needed... It was a lesson in what we really need to survive and what we don't," he explains. "All the most important things -- memories, photographs -- they were gone. Couldn't hold on to those. All the things that I needed for day-to-day life weren't much more enormous than a toothbrush and a few clothes and certain necessities.
"Luxury is a matter not of all the things you have, but all the things you can afford to do without," he continues.
With this newfound perspective, Iyer says he didn't feel so devastated by his losses -- and each time he would find himself thinking wistfully of the "what ifs" that could have helped him save certain treasures, he would quickly remind himself of the far less fortunate outcome he could have faced."
"Occasionally, I would think, 'If only I had five minutes more, I could have gathered everything precious,'" Iyer says. "But then I thought, 'If only I had five minutes less, I wouldn't be alive.'"
Even the loss of years' worth of writings left the author with a strange sense of freedom. "In some ways, I thought I'm liberated from a lot of things -- even from my dream of being a writer," he says. "Those were pre-computer days. My next, probably, seven years were all in my handwritten notes. And I lost my passport. In some ways, I lost my future."
To see the full video click here
A Practical Standpoint
What is touching about this blog, though it is NOT about floods and though it happened years ago in some other country, is that it is all about surviving disaster. A disaster of the scale and magnitude that left one homeless, without access to any materials or things that one's memories were built around. So similar to what the Chennai survivor stories are all about. The blog offers many insights into the practical and the emotional issues and the roller coaster that life takes you on as you begin to piece it all back together.
http://www.lifeafterthefire.com/2011/01/what-is-home.html
"After the fire, even though I had shelter (first in the form of a hotel room and then a rental), I didn't feel home. Nothing was familiar. Even the pillows I bought that were identical to the ones I had owned were not mine. I hadn't mashed them in 400 directions, indented my head every night for two years. I had a spatula, but it wasn't the same brand, and it didn't feel the same. When I went to Labor and Delivery to have Kellen, I didn't have any old clothes, any comforting items to remind me of home, remind me of all the things to come. A spatula or t-shirt or pillow might seem inconsequential. In fact you might wonder how I can possibly define my homes in terms of that "STUFF." But that stuff, for me, is what makes this place a home... and not just four walls and a roof.
What defines your home? Is it the structure? Is it an item? Is it the way you feel when you look out the window into your garden? Or something else entirely?"
http://www.lifeafterthefire.com/2010/04/what-to-do-when-someones-house-burns.html
"All of us endure tragedy, and all of us need reassurance in those moments. But what we need isn't false emotion. We need human connection. We need a hug. We need a hand. We need a crew of friends and strangers to sift through our ashes. That is genuine compassion... and a hell of a lot more helpful than telling someone "Life goes on."
"For me, the worst part of the PTSD was the dreams. I could try to escape fires all day long, making conscious choices that kept me from having to relive the fire. But the fires always came to me in my dreams, burning my house down more frequently than Channel 2's repetitive news reel. Two years later, the nightmares are finally gone. Do I think it's likely that I won't ever have another fire dream? No. And I'm sure when I do, it will be jarring. But at least for now, I can sleep at night."
While it sounds like a moot point to discuss a family emergency plan now - Let's keep these things in order for the future - http://www.lifeafterthefire.com/2011/11/family-emergency-plan.html
