Daily Dispatches: Day 20
April 1, 2020
Day 20
1. OK, I'm going to be petty for a minute. I got an email Monday from a company that makes swim and fitness wear, saying they love "my brand" and offering me a free pair of leggings if I want to collaborate, i.e. sell their stuff on my Instagram. I didn't respond. Today, I received a follow-up email from the PR person.
2. My response was diplomatic, right? I thought so: "I hope this email finds you well. Perhaps you are trying to keep your business afloat during the global pandemic -- if so, I can relate. It's a stressful time. If not, then it feels a bit amiss to be soliciting this type of collaboration in this moment. Either way, this is not something I'm able to participate in at this time." Really, people?
3. While I'm getting stuff like this off my chest, a client yesterday told me some coaches are calling COVID-19 the "candemic." I nearly passed out. Just no. I'm all for positive thinking, but seriously. Thousands of people have died and it's early yet in this crisis. I'm reminded of something Laura Halpin wrote, "Avoidance doesn't serve us."
4. This morning, I wrote a poem and read it during a live Cradle Conversation, hosted by Laura. After that, Mani and I laid down for an hour. I felt exhausted but didn't sleep. My mind was racing, though not with any particular thoughts. I felt like I could sleep all day. But thankfully I had a call with someone and had no choice but to get up.
5. Thankfully, working provides structure to my days. I've been leading online groups and doing virtual coaching for five years now, so other than not going into my office, that part of the day to day doesn't look particularly different. I think I've written that a bunch of times before, so forgive me if I'm being redundant.
6. Every client call starts out now with checking in about the pandemic. This afternoon, I spoke with a wonderful poet who's continuing to work on a manuscript. Yesterday, someone I've been working with for about six months said our sessions are her favorite part of the week. I have no words, just gratitude.
7. I keep circling back around to the same thoughts about not having a point of reference for this experience. Yes, we all have had extreme situations and crises in our individual lives, but few of us have ever experienced something so all-encompassing. I keep coming back to WWII as the closest thing I can imagine. I keep thinking this is our war. Our children’s lives will be shaped by this in ways we can’t know. I bumped into the mom of a friend of Pearl’s at the tail end of my run today. She’s a doctor. She said things at the clinic where she works are tense. We joked about how a few generations from now, kids will say, “Grandma doesn’t get closer than six feet to anyone, because of the pandemic.” Funny-not-funny.
8. I didn’t tell her that half hour earlier, I was in the Wildwood Cemetery, weeping in front of a small bronze horse statue. It’s the grave of Frank Loew and Deborah Digges; Deborah, the poet who really saw me when I was in my early 20s and trying so hard to find my footing, Frank, her husband, a former dean of the Tufts Vet school. They loved horses and dogs and Johnny Cash and Deborah’s home was this place for me where time stood still back in 1996. She died by suicide 11 years ago next week, but this was my first time visiting her grave. In fact, I didn’t know where it was until about a month ago, when I met for coffee with a local poet for the first time and we found out we’d both known her.
9. I brushed off some of the dirt and debris from the base of the statue as I burst into tears. I remember the day I found out Deborah had died like it was yesterday. And the grief that is building up around us – locally, nationally, internationally – has been seeping in. Sitting there this afternoon, it’s like the dam burst. I let it.
10. I listened to Iron & Wine as I ran home from the cemetery. “We can weep and call it singing.”
11. We can’t see where we’re going. But we can see where we are. We are here. My wife’s hands encircle my waist as I press my cheek against her chest. Some days will be harder than others.
We keep showing up for each other, no matter what.
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.