I’m on vacation, a glorious week of whatever I want and nothing involving ringing phones, solving problems, or adulting of any kind.

Rolling over later than usual on Monday morning, I pushed the remote button to make the TV come to life — I needed to see what time it was. About a year ago, I tossed my Hello Kitty digital tea pot clock because of its extremely bright numbers. As of yet, I hadn’t found a clock whose numbers wouldn’t interrupt my sleep in the darkened dungeon that I prefer. I started using the TV and gave up the search.

I peered through one squinted eye to see the Good Morning, America clock in the corner read 9:46 a.m. That can’t be right… why are they still on?

“If you’re just waking up, more than 50 people have been killed, and more than 400 have been injured…”

Even if I wanted to, there’s no way to go back to sleep after hearing that.

Gruesome details. Social media videos of chaos and confusion and a rat-tat-tat-tat sound like I’ve never heard. Police chiefs telling what they know. Anchors and reporters near and far investigating, asking, but only a few answers are known.

I’m shocked that I’m not more shocked at what I’m seeing. I’m sad because of that.

I imagine 50+ faces alive and bright-eyed, then empty, their lights extinguished.

I shrug during discussion of how something like this will ever be changed or prevented.

It’s been more than a day. Yesterday, I spent part of my time sitting at Starbucks watching regular life still happen right before my eyes. I found I still believe each one of us doing what we can to spread peace and also to help, say, by volunteering in our communities, is the best remedy and medicine. There’s little I can do for those involved. But I have to do something.

More meditation (erroneously written the first time here as medication… my mind apparently listening to my heart on that one). More breathing. More helping where I can, connections on the ground level, where I am. One person to another.

There’s no use in bothering with those in power. They are clueless or thoughtless or, worst of all, heartless.

I’m on vacation. But what I’d really like is a vacation from madness — the madness of doing the same things over and over again, expecting a different result.

I think I’ll leave the TV off, to check the time, or maybe forever. I’ll read my news — the words are difficult enough to ingest, without the moving images, the harried and terrified voices, the hearts breaking and lives ending before my eyes. Don’t worry — I found a clock on Monday. It doesn’t light up in the night, so it won’t disturb my sleep. If these tragedies keep happening, though, that will. Will this finally disturb the sleep of those who can do something about it?

Do something — it’s beyond time.

Image via Pixabay user DarkSouls1