Fear

It's a different mood today--reflective, vulnerable, fearful. My house in California was broken into while I am here, safe, in Cyprus. What feelings of helplessness that news brings. I can do nothing. And, yet my land, my possession, my other life has been maliciously intruded upon--changed forever. And, it can happen again and again. Random acts of violence, perpetrators with no sense of humanity, no shame.

In the larger scheme of things, this is only one small incident for the records of the Long Beach police; nothing of worth was taken. On a world scale, it is nothing, compared to loss of lives in war, displacement by earthquakes or tsunamis, years of political turmoil and indecision.

Yesterday, before this news, I had written a piece on Cyprus, trying to sort out the conflicting views I have heard from Cypriots on both sides of the Green Zone and from the histories I've read about the "Cyprus Problem." The issues here are complex, deeply rooted. I hesitate to share that essay publicly, as I do not want to offend any of my newly found friends, in case my interpretations seem erroneous, misguided, misstated, or biased, one way or the other. I am only one person, listening, reading, interpreting. It is impossible for me to know the "truth" about Cyprus. But, as a human being, I am constantly asking, "Why can the problem not be solved? What does it mean for the future?" There are no easy answers.

Today, after my news from home, I am angry. But I am also vulnerable, anxious, and fearful about the future. What can be done to guarantee that the past criminal actions won't happen again?

I have only lived with this feeling for a few hours.

Cypriots have lived with it for lifetimes.