Daily Dispatches: Day 18
“Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell.”
March 30, 2020
Day 18
I sat down to write this morning because I couldn't seem to get myself focused on anything else. Writing this took all day. Hello, my friends.
I read a great piece yesterday by Ella Dawson called These Are Not Conditions in Which to Thrive. I recommend it, in no small part because of this gem: “Your only responsibility is to get through today.”
I also recommend reading Rebecca Solnit’s latest opinion piece, Who Will Win the Fight for a Post-Coronavirus America? And then check out Sally Campbell-Galman’s newest cartoon in our local paper. It will make you smile. Or cry. Oh, also -- I was honored to be quoted by Professor Neal Lester from Arizona State University, in an interview about Project Humanities. You can read that here.
I was up early, around 6:00am, thanks to a little dog who shall go unnamed. I greeted my groups as I drank my coffee. Last night, dreams of driving cross-country and realizing I would have to schedule getting gas, but gas stations for hundreds, even thousands of miles, had no open slots. It dawned on me that I was stranded.
In real life it was the grocery delivery that prompted this dream; I filled up my online shopping cart last night, only to find that there are no delivery spots available between now and April 12, and no further dates yet posted. I am hoping to avoid going into the store; we know that this virus is airborne, and I want to avoid any unnecessary exposure. Pearl’s 14th birthday is next, which also happens to be the first day of Passover. I find myself fixating on these details. (Update: A spot opened up for Saturday morning.)
On my run this morning, I was thinking about micro and macro, and how they take turns being a source of comfort. When the whole big picture feels overwhelming, it can be so crucial to ground down into the here and now – taking a shower, preparing a meal tidying a room, tending to work.
But then sometimes, the here and now becomes overwhelming, as it did last night when I stared at the screen filled with “sold out” slots, and it helped me to remember the whole big picture, and how whatever challenges I am personally facing are really mere inconveniences, and that millions of people all around the world are with me, adjusting, adapting, and making do.
I suppose the trick is to know which is called for at any given moment: Do I need to zero in on something tactical and tangible? Do I need to zoom way, way out, to feel connected and held in a giant invisible web of humanity?
Running has surprised me. It has become a source of steadiness and stress relief. I remain grateful to be somewhere with enough open space that I can head out in pretty much any direction from our house and not have to worry about encountering more than a handful of people, and even then, folks are mostly being really respectful of making room for each other, often with a wave or a smile. It feels strange, the wide berth, the intentional avoidance of proximity, and yet also like a form of care and consciousness.
Today, I ran down Route 9, then across Northeast to Strong Street. I passed some farmland, a little sign in someone’s yard with a big red heart on it, railroad tracks, old brick buildings covered with vines that will soon become green with spring. After a few miles, I surprised my parents by showing up in their driveway. They stepped out onto their side porch to say hello. Married 57 years come September, they could not have looked more adorable in their slippers and bathrobes. We chatted for a few minutes, glad for the few minutes of in-person, if physically distanced, greeting.
When I got home from my run, Mani and I did a tapping exercise. If you’re unfamiliar with EFT, I recommend it. We use The Tapping Solution app. I first started using it last summer during a period of extreme anxiety, and it was one of the things that really helped me through.
Hot shower, clients, food, a nap. The days in some ways don’t look all that different from the inside than they have for me for years. But we all know they are different.
Now it’s raining again, and I’m glad I got outside earlier. I just finished responding to emails. When I took Chalupa outside to pee after our nap, I got super close to a bird in the bushes, a nuthatch maybe. I didn’t have my phone so I missed the chance to take a picture, so you’ll just have to picture it – about the size of my palm, white with black markings and a fat little belly that made me smile.
Quiet today. Sending out big love to everyone who is struggling, suffering, serving, and survivng – maybe even all at once.
If you are able and inclined to contribute any amount, your support helps me to keep doing what I do and keep the pantry stocked. My deepest gratitude.