Black Clouds and Sunflowers

Confession: I'm pouting that I haven't been called to help in Boulder right now. The past week in particular has been ripe with conversation about life purpose. Three of my closest friends have entertained these thoughts with me; one focused on talents, one on method, and one on timing. Talents. It's kind of a loaded subject, especially for someone who grew up with a heavy dose of the arts. I'm trained to think about talents on a mechanical level - how high I can kick, what my vocal range is, what grade of music I can sight-read. Natural talents always looked like that to me, and until I studied psychology in college, it hadn't occurred to me that even things like intelligent problem solving, creating safe dialogue, and effectively managing staff all qualified as talents too. So my friend and I chatted, picking apart the ways in which we felt we could be used, if only our true talents had the proper outlet. Behold the second conversation of the week: friend...

I couldn't even think. Mary-Laurence was on the other end of the phone, trying to be strong for me, but I knew she was having just as much trouble as I was. The first stages of the psychology of it all went by real fast... denial, anger... and then I landed *splat* in the middle of shock. Somehow, I was able to have an entire phone conversation without losing it, so I hung up and just stood there. I knew only the pertinent information. As soon as the words, "Blake was in an accident," escaped my mouth, I was in a pile against my mother. They're the kind of stories you hear about, not the ones that you think are going to personally affect you. And truthfully, I don't know how I would have been affected had it been somebody else in my social group. But this was Blake, one of my best friends in the world. He had a rock climbing accident. He and I had climbed together for months before I left Boulder, and I witnessed his excellent decision-making skills about clim...