What Impends: Days Two Hundred Ninety-Eight - Three Hundred Two

Sleepless night for lots of us last night, I suppose. Unfathomable grief everywhere. I sit and meditate and a mantra pops in my head and I don't like it: What Impends. The words claw at me and I bat the thoughts away. But still. Does impend always indicate doom? Can serenity impend? Joy? What impends. As mantas go, it's more of a statement than a question. I look for the connection and the connection is there, although on the surface it makes no sense. I guess that's the way of meditation, connections grow organically and later I may see the logic. The connection is to art: high art that requires work to appreciate. I have issued a challenge to myself to consume what does not come easily: symphonies, poetry, complex fiction, postmodern art. What is the connection of art to a full-blown tragedy of epic proportions? I have no idea.images