A giant spoon entered our kettle on Friday.

I spent the day with Haze, reading updated reports on my phone as information about a shooting, in a town I never heard of, splashed the top of every “feed” I subscribe to; making their various “pings” and “dings” rhythmically in my pocket.

I glanced at social media outlets where I met suppositions and ‘so sad’s’. In a few hours friend’s status updates of questioning and anguish turned to anger. Anger that spun in a million directions; back out at one another, laws, and the shooter.

I get that; I understand updates of grief and love, the ones about gun control, anger, irrational statements, and overly rational statements. Yes, my mind was twisted as I went about my day with Haze, but quick glances at words gathered in sentences to report the situation didn’t stop my daily flow.

After putting the girls to bed, Robin and I sat on the couch and watched the news of the day. I didn’t bother worrying about the scrunch of my face, or the sounds of my tears as they flew down my face, without the ability to pace, getting stuck in my throat with the sickest of taste. Words earlier read digitally, gave way to images of hurt, loss, and confusion that punctuated the day. It was now obvious why people were reacting intensely, but their statuses, tweets, and my news app updates couldn’t deliver the sights and interviews now searing my eyes.

Robin and I had our “How could it? What if…” discussion. We reflected on other tragedies in the world, daily injustices, war, and a myriad of “stuff” that breaks down our faith and hope in humanity.

Then, I turned to what comforts me, other than Robin, family, and friends, in times when confusion abounds and answers aren’t readily found – Music.

The following poem read by Bob Dylan “Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie” has less to do with Woody as an individual, and more to do with all of us as humans. The poem speaks to the human condition, something we all share.

No matter the differences in how we handle tragedy, we’re tethered together by a thread, the thread of what it is like to experience being a human. Your, my, and everyone else’s views of events may not muster the same feelings and reactions, but they lead us all needing and searching for the same thing – Hope.

It may just be a ‘Word that maybe you said or maybe you heard. On some windy corner ’round a wide-angled curve. But that’s what you need man, and you need it bad. And yer trouble is you know it too good.”