When the River Rises: Reflections on a Birthday, Tragedy, and Presence
When the River Rises: Reflections on a Birthday, Tragedy, and Presence
Today marks my 49th birthday — my final year in my forties. A chapter closing, and a new one about to begin. And though birthdays often come with plans or celebrations, this year I asked for only one thing: to simply be with my loved ones. No grand event, just stillness, presence, and love.
But as the day arrived, so did the news of devastating floods along the Guadalupe River here in Texas. A place close to home. A place I know. RV parks swept away, families lost, young girls at camp caught in the rising waters. The Fourth of July weekend that should have been filled with joy turned, in an instant, into heartbreak.
The morning took a different turn than I expected. I decided to spend it here, writing this piece — reflecting on what this moment means, and how deeply it’s struck me. Perhaps it’s because this tragedy unfolded so near. Perhaps it’s because of the conversations I had with my daughter, telling her that what I wanted most was this — time together. Perhaps it’s because I remember another flood, years ago, that took people I knew. Another flood. Another reminder of how quickly life can change.
What strikes me now, as the rain still falls outside, is how difficult it is to stay in presence. Even for those of us who devote ourselves to growth, to resilience, to self-mastery. This world demands so much. It is so easy to fall into the grind, to measure our worth by outcomes, to work endlessly trying to “make it.” But in moments like this — when the river rises — we’re forced to pause. To ask: Did we love enough? Did we give enough? Were we here, really here, for this life that can change in a moment?
And so today, on my birthday, I honor those who have lost so much. I hold stillness not just for myself, but for them. I offer my heart, quietly, to those navigating unimaginable loss. Because tragedy strikes somewhere, every day. And perhaps this one struck close because it was meant to reach me at my core — to remind me, again, to be here now.
As I step into this final year of my forties, I do so with intention. To give my heart fully, whatever the results may look like. To choose presence over performance. To love, and to be.
⸻
If this resonates with you, I invite you to pause today. Hold space for those facing sudden loss. And hold space, too, for yourself. Because this moment — this one right here — is all we ever truly have.
Godspeed,
Arlen