Of Amy and Oslo

What do you say?

There was the guy who looked like he probably fronted a metal band in a land where the music flourishes. There was the kid who looked like one of my students - he was only 14. There were the girls with the trendy haircuts, and a fellow who looked like he was just having a rough time working downtown.

They're all gone now. Just like that.

There was Amy. Slow suicide is different than a terrible rampage, but carnage nonetheless. What an awful feeling it must have been...to see the ground rushing at the window of the crippled aircraft, and not being able to pull out of the dive.

What do we do with it all? How do we hold it? Is it possible? It certainly won't bring them back...would it prevent future tragedy? What can we do to keep from going insane? I can't imagine being a parent or sibling. I was just involved with a youth leadership camp myself. I wonder how the other camp counselors are holding up. We had a strict "buddy system" in order to make some nobody wandered off. I could see myself unwittingly herding them right into the line of fire, trying desperately to do the right thing, and bewildered by the chaos.

I think all we can do is cry. It's something about that sound. But crying doesn't always have to be with eyes and tears. It can be with guitars or paint, words or clay or pictures.

My brother told me about a Flickr group for the tragedy.

Perhaps you've recorded a piece of music, or written a poem. Pass 'em along, and I'll put them online here. I think that, in our darkest hour, artistic expression is a mighty cry and dazzling light to give us the slightest glimmer of hope.

Feel free to share.

Peace,

- Josh