The Buddhist idea (which I’m going to grossly oversimplify) that the begging bowl will never be empty now rings quite true to me. I’ve abandoned the burdens of most worldly possessions to the advancing waters, and instead am relying on the goodness of friends. I’ve had so many offers of places to stay that, at last count, I could lay my head in a different place every night for a week and not have to start over for another few days. Right now I’m sitting in the living room of a friend’s farmhouse — with wireless Internet! — and feeling more peaceful than I have since all this madness commenced late last week. Otis, my beagle, is welcome at this farm, so he’ll be hanging out here with two big labs and a little lab puppy.

Everyone in our neighborhood finally was told to clear out this morning, because the streets were becoming waterways and escape routes were closing fast. Having driven out, we’re not supposed to go back, although I sneaked back once already, down a hill through the woods, with a family member who was bound and determined to clean out the refrigerator of perfectly good food. The power was out and the scene was eerily quiet. The birds and squirrels and rabbits were having a fine time in the soggy yard. We got a good haul of food, enough to cook big meals for our friends for several days. The sandbag dike is sitting there partly built, far short of the anticipated water level.

Cedar Rapids got drowned today, so the worst is over there, and it was very bad. No way of telling what will happen in Iowa City, except that it also is going to be bad. Floodwaters are supposed to crest here next week, so we’re just waiting things out. I’m even getting evicted from my University of Iowa office–as a “precautionary” measure, our building must be evacuated by Saturday afternoon. About all I can plan for meanwhile is my reading at Prairie Lights Bookstore in downtown Iowa City — high ground — on Friday evening. I’m hoping for a good sympathy turnout. And I get to think and talk about China for awhile!

The costs of this devastation will be tallied for months and years to come–not only homes and properties destroyed, but in some cases livelihoods lost, and undoubtedly many psychic repercussions. So far, though, it doesn’t even remotely approach the toll of the tornado in Western Iowa that took the lives of four boy scouts and injured 40. My world these days may be surreal, but it’s not tragic. Life and limb around here are sound.