So Superstorm Sandy is just dying down on the East coast and I sit quietly on my chaise, writing in my journal, taking time to sip my hot tea and look out my back windows to my backyard, to my daughter Davide’s garden, to Tibbs, our iguana in his cage and to the pool and all the trees beyond. I call it Walden III. I have come here from Walden II, which was my home back east. And I have been to Walden I, the original.

I have come here, like Moses and the Jews after Egypt, after forty years of wandering on this Earth. This is my land of milk and honey. I am roused from my revelry by the background noise of the images of the Weather Channel. My children say I am addicted to the Weather Channel. They are showing footage of the devastation of Toms River, New Jersey. This is not some foreign place I have no connection to. This is where I lived with my children for close to fifteen years. This is where both of my brothers still live. I am reminded of my younger brother Richard’s past and their home on the bay, other storms, other waves.

And now it is the morning after. Water and sand are everywhere. Destruction, devastation, no power but at least they are safe. I am reminded that I’ve had no contact with my older brother, Stephen, since the storm, but his daughter on Facebook has told us that they are okay, just no power, no computers, no telephone.

How is this possible? I am sitting here in the beauty of the Texas Hill Country and my brother’s 1800 miles away are sitting amidst the devastation of a super storm. The silver lining is that for our family, only things were destroyed. We are all safe and sound. Even my son, who lives in New Jersey with his fiancé, they are safe and sound. Once again we are reminded to stay vigilant, awake, aware. No sleeping on the job. We must be conscious of all life around us. We must see both sides of every coin and look at it honestly – the beauty and the calm of nature. The fury and the face of the storm.

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