The lyrics from her popular ‘70s song, “I Feel the Earth Move,” reverberated in my mind after the earthquakes here January 21 and 22.

Centered in Colima, the neighboring state to the south of Jalisco, the first registered 7.6 on the Richter Scale and happened as I was in bed for the night reading, my cats peacefully sprawled around me. Suddenly, it felt like we were in a cradle that was rocking way too enthusiastically for my liking. Instinctively, my flight response kicked into high gear, and I had just one thought: I’m out of here!

Not caring that I was in my tackiest nightgown, I grabbed my keys – which, thankfully, I always keep in the same place – and my favorite cat and started down the stairs to get outside. Then the vibrating stopped, and so did I. Where, exactly, did I think I was going? Into the street where knots of live electrical wires could tumble down, not to mention concrete, bricks and tiles? And with all the commotion, my cat would have stayed in my arms for less than two seconds before clawing me mercilessly and escaping to who knows where, perhaps never to be seen again.

No, I needed to compose myself quickly and come up with a logical plan to deal with the aftershocks I suspected would soon follow. Having been caught off guard by Hurricane Kenna less than three months ago, I didn’t feel like having history repeat itself, if I could help it. So as I came to my senses, I remembered advice I’d been given two decades ago when living in earthquake-prone Peru: Stand under a support beam or in a doorway and stay inside. Checking out my apartment, I realized that under a beam by the front door would be the most psychologically reassuring spot to be.

I also put a grab-and-run bag with money, eyeglasses – absolutely vital for my survival at all times, period – passport, FM-3, flashlight and bottle of water by my chosen spot for waiting out the aftershocks. And I put my cat carriers there, too, in the hopes my little friends would take shelter in them and make it possible for me to take one or two if push came to shove and I had to leave the building.

Being a “Nervous Nelly” by nature, I was like a highly-strung bow all night, posed for take-off. But talking with a down-to-earth neighbor, who lived most of her life on the seismically active west coast of the USA, helped calm me. While she said she was taking appropriate precautions, like buying extra bottles of water in case it became in short supply, she was going on with her day-to-day plans because there was nothing else she could do and worrying served no purpose.

She did point out, however, something I hadn’t realized. Apparently, it’s not a good idea to flick on a light switch after a quake in case gas lines have been disrupted (as they were in the Emiliano Zapata neighborhood). Even though confined within the outlet box, dangerous sparks can be generated and an explosion result. In the same vein, a smoker’s match or lighter can have a disastrous effect.

Reportedly there were several dozen aftershocks within 24 hours of the quake, but I felt only two and wasn’t at home for either. So, while I didn’t get the chance to activate my little plan, I did feel more confident in my ability to survive, wherever I am.

This episode reminded me that, while life is full of surprises – and undoubtedly something will catch me off guard again, a little common sense just might protect me and those I love. Beyond that, since I’m not in control of the universe, why worry?

If you have any comments, questions or suggestions about what you’re reading, you’re encouraged to let me know at heather@mexmags.com.