My problems seem so frivolous this constant perseverating on trying to find myself, tying to discover what is missing, why I always feel on the outside of life as though I’m looking in from the sidelines. Today I turned on the tv, and as I sit to have my coffee, and dread the day stretched out in front of me with the blank page, I am horrified. As I sink into my down filled cushions, cradling my freshly brewed Nespresso, I peer over my cup and see utter destruction fill the screen. Overnight Russia has continued to bomb Ukraine. The images are unthinkable, not something I would imagine could happen in the 21st century. Where there were once tall trees and lush landscaped parks and villages, there is now soot, grey smoke, debris, and remanence of buildings-once stories high now mere rubble. My heart fills with sadness. What can I do to help? How can this be happening as it is being documented in real time, like a horror film for people to pause, hit rewind, and fast forward. Collectively, we are all watching from our manicured, safe intact neighborhoods around the globe. This morning I drove my daughter up the street to her elementary school, my other daughter an hour away at her university, studying international relations, and barely aware of what is unfolding. I have a hair appointment in two days for highlights, and just yesterday I had my crows feet smoothed out with six swift pricks of botulism. I’m horrified-horrified that my life continues without missing a beat. As I continue to watch, Anderson is reduced to tears on more than three occasions while covering this war torn village. He speaks with a mom of three who has made the courageous decision to stay to occupy the land that is rightfully theirs. She is being judged. Moms (probably from communities like mine) are writing in to tell her what she needs to do. They urge her, or rather admonish her that she needs to flee. I can’t help thinking while I am sitting around contemplating what I want to do with my life, she is literally struggling to survive. In the midst of all of the terror, her baby Karina who had been nursing is now cooing and smiling seemingly without a care in the world. It occurs to me as I sit here in my warm safe living room, that what matters is humanity. This brave, beautiful woman Olena Gnes, her courageous husband, and their three precious children risking everything to stand up for what is right. This is Humanity.