Ever since I was a small girl and began to understand the urgency behind a siren, whether it originated from a fire truck or an ambulance or a police car, these rude but necessary warning signals have caused me great (and greatly unnecessary) anxiety.
I developed a coping mechanism many years ago by offering up a prayer for whomever the siren was rushing to help.
Currently, my home is mere blocks from a fire station and a hospital. Sirens are a frequent sound in the landscape. I still pray, but sometimes they get to me anyways. Especially when they never stop.
Which is where my continuously maturing spiritual self steps into help. I’ve learned that when I hear the sirens, I can recognize what they mean, and I can accept the world’s emergencies without attachment or judgment. Without worry or sadness.
Like I said the other day about crime, it is what it is.
The real challenge is to see the perfection of life in all of it’s imperfections. Oh, paradoxical truths.
Do sirens bother you or am I alone here?