Hello, everybody! How are you doing?
I'm fine.
I recently read that people in stress tend either toward hyper-sensitivity or toward dissociation, and I tend to be the latter.
NOT that I think, "This isn't happening".
No!
But I feel more sleepy, if anything, than anxious.
(Well, except the other day when I went to the Big Grocery Store and the pharmacist's eyes looked like a dying animal's. I could feel my blood pressure rising.)
But generally––and I'm hoping this doesn't get too bad (worse) and I don't feel horrified later for saying this––but generally I'm happy staying home reading, writing, going for walks...
Seeing this time as a sort of pilgrimage...?
That sounds right. Several people have said this time feels surreal, and I agree––it's an unknown place we are journeying (in time) in.
And what am I in search of?
Well... more of the same, really, of what I said at New Year's:
I want to practice taking a breath before acting, instead of instantly reacting.
So, I'm in search of breathing in a new or expanded way... And when I do, it grants me a new perspective on myself and others, etc.
And you?
Take a Breath
I biked past this broken sign in the gutter yesterday. I did a U-turn and biked back to pick it up.
I googled "3 wavy horizontal lines" and discovered it means that the wallpaper I have purchased is Extremely Washable.
Okay, then.
What is means to me is, TAKE A BREATH. A nice long one.
When I do, I realize that despite not feeling panicked, I've halfway been holding my breath.
So...
take another, and another.
One of the great insights of my life came on Camino in 2001, the year I walked with bink:
After a day walking on flayed feet (the word "blisters" doesn't touch it), I was in so much pain we stopped early for the night at an old monastery.
I hobbles up to our dim dormitory room and put my backpack on a bunk bed so flimsy, it sagged under the slight weight.
The only window in the room was cut into block stone wall. Leaning on the sill, I looked out at ochre, greens, and puffy blues, like a Dutch landscape painting.
All of a sudden I felt incredibly happy, and the thought came to me,
"Maybe happiness is the baseline of existence."
I went downstairs to the courtyard, where a few other injured pilgrims were sitting around. (One's feet were so bad, she had to leave the Camino the next day.)
I told them the phrase that had come to me--maybe happiness is the baseline of existence--and they all felt that too.
And maybe it is.
But happiness sure isn't the whole shebang, and I resent the fridge-magnet philosophy that insists we should Be Happy.
That's like saying we should be able to farm on bedrock.
And, in fact, both my correspondents responded that, no, this time doesn't feel like Camino to them at all.
One said it felt like driving down a rural two-lane highway in the evening, when the deer come out to feed and wander onto the road, in front of oncoming cars.
The other said it felt like being trapped alone in an elevator with an alarm going off in your ears--but that can't be heard from the outside.
So, I never want to talk about happiness in a way that dismisses the unhappiness around me... or in me.
What makes me unhappy and afraid is not so much biological illness as social sickness--the way people might behave if things break down too far.
You know, the full-on zombie apocalypse.
We Are the Grown Ups
Walking with bink yesterday, she said this is like a pre-zombie trial run. The cracks in our systems are being exposed. Hopefully not too late to take action--and to prepare better for next time.
I'm still amazed at the lack of preparedness. I read someone In Charge say no one saw this coming, but that's rubbish. I've heard for years that more new, extra-contagious viruses were absolutely sure to arise. This one isn't even as virulent as it could be.
Meanwhile, I've heard nothing more from my Catholic Church correspondent who told me on Monday that he & coworkers were "working on" a response plan.
All they've posted is videotaped Masses and exhortations to pray the rosary.
How 'bout, say, instructions on how to do Home Church?
Of course the Church is not promoting this, but you 100% don't need a church building and an ordained priest to create sacred space and ritual... People in the early days of Christianity celebrated in homes--there were no churches.
Ah, well.
I don't actually want home church (all this fretting on my part is theoretical!), but if I did, I'd gather with two or three and together--outside--6 feet apart, and break bread.
A very long baguette!
The point to me is . . .We, You, I DON'T NEED PERMISSION.
I see some people still acting as if they Grown-Up in Charge is going to show up and tell them what to do.
I want to say, hey, everyone: we are the grown-ups. That's what the zombie movies are all about.
And... Go Take a Walk
HouseMate is usually volunteers at church half the day on Sundays, but now public Masses have been cancelled. Instead, she made French toast for breakfast for us.
I'm relieved that we're getting along just fine. She acknowledged we might get on each other's nerves, but so far we've been fine.
The house is big enough we can stay out of each other's way, and while it's not warm enough to sit outside yet, (it's 40ºF/10ºC, but the wind is cold), it's warm enough to go for long walks.
The winner is her dog!
Speaking of which, I'm going to go for a walk right now.
I'm fine.
I recently read that people in stress tend either toward hyper-sensitivity or toward dissociation, and I tend to be the latter.
NOT that I think, "This isn't happening".
No!
But I feel more sleepy, if anything, than anxious.
(Well, except the other day when I went to the Big Grocery Store and the pharmacist's eyes looked like a dying animal's. I could feel my blood pressure rising.)
But generally––and I'm hoping this doesn't get too bad (worse) and I don't feel horrified later for saying this––but generally I'm happy staying home reading, writing, going for walks...
Seeing this time as a sort of pilgrimage...?
"A pilgrimage is a journey, often into an unknown or foreign place, where a person goes in search of new or expanded meaning about the self, others, nature, or a higher good, through the experience.[--from Wikipedia]
It can lead to a personal transformation, after which the pilgrim returns to their daily life."
That sounds right. Several people have said this time feels surreal, and I agree––it's an unknown place we are journeying (in time) in.
And what am I in search of?
Well... more of the same, really, of what I said at New Year's:
I want to practice taking a breath before acting, instead of instantly reacting.
So, I'm in search of breathing in a new or expanded way... And when I do, it grants me a new perspective on myself and others, etc.
And you?
Take a Breath
I biked past this broken sign in the gutter yesterday. I did a U-turn and biked back to pick it up.
I googled "3 wavy horizontal lines" and discovered it means that the wallpaper I have purchased is Extremely Washable.
Okay, then.
What is means to me is, TAKE A BREATH. A nice long one.
When I do, I realize that despite not feeling panicked, I've halfway been holding my breath.
So...
take another, and another.
❧ ❧ ❧
I emailed a couple friends that this Time of the Virus does feel like being on Camino de Santiago to me-- walking day after day across an unfamiliar landscape, putting one foot in front of the other--an odd mix of boring and painful; boring and euphoric.One of the great insights of my life came on Camino in 2001, the year I walked with bink:
After a day walking on flayed feet (the word "blisters" doesn't touch it), I was in so much pain we stopped early for the night at an old monastery.
I hobbles up to our dim dormitory room and put my backpack on a bunk bed so flimsy, it sagged under the slight weight.
The only window in the room was cut into block stone wall. Leaning on the sill, I looked out at ochre, greens, and puffy blues, like a Dutch landscape painting.
All of a sudden I felt incredibly happy, and the thought came to me,
"Maybe happiness is the baseline of existence."
I went downstairs to the courtyard, where a few other injured pilgrims were sitting around. (One's feet were so bad, she had to leave the Camino the next day.)
I told them the phrase that had come to me--maybe happiness is the baseline of existence--and they all felt that too.
And maybe it is.
But happiness sure isn't the whole shebang, and I resent the fridge-magnet philosophy that insists we should Be Happy.
That's like saying we should be able to farm on bedrock.
And, in fact, both my correspondents responded that, no, this time doesn't feel like Camino to them at all.
One said it felt like driving down a rural two-lane highway in the evening, when the deer come out to feed and wander onto the road, in front of oncoming cars.
The other said it felt like being trapped alone in an elevator with an alarm going off in your ears--but that can't be heard from the outside.
So, I never want to talk about happiness in a way that dismisses the unhappiness around me... or in me.
What makes me unhappy and afraid is not so much biological illness as social sickness--the way people might behave if things break down too far.
You know, the full-on zombie apocalypse.
We Are the Grown Ups
Walking with bink yesterday, she said this is like a pre-zombie trial run. The cracks in our systems are being exposed. Hopefully not too late to take action--and to prepare better for next time.
I'm still amazed at the lack of preparedness. I read someone In Charge say no one saw this coming, but that's rubbish. I've heard for years that more new, extra-contagious viruses were absolutely sure to arise. This one isn't even as virulent as it could be.
Meanwhile, I've heard nothing more from my Catholic Church correspondent who told me on Monday that he & coworkers were "working on" a response plan.
All they've posted is videotaped Masses and exhortations to pray the rosary.
How 'bout, say, instructions on how to do Home Church?
Of course the Church is not promoting this, but you 100% don't need a church building and an ordained priest to create sacred space and ritual... People in the early days of Christianity celebrated in homes--there were no churches.
Ah, well.
I don't actually want home church (all this fretting on my part is theoretical!), but if I did, I'd gather with two or three and together--outside--6 feet apart, and break bread.
A very long baguette!
The point to me is . . .We, You, I DON'T NEED PERMISSION.
I see some people still acting as if they Grown-Up in Charge is going to show up and tell them what to do.
I want to say, hey, everyone: we are the grown-ups. That's what the zombie movies are all about.
And... Go Take a Walk
HouseMate is usually volunteers at church half the day on Sundays, but now public Masses have been cancelled. Instead, she made French toast for breakfast for us.
I'm relieved that we're getting along just fine. She acknowledged we might get on each other's nerves, but so far we've been fine.
The house is big enough we can stay out of each other's way, and while it's not warm enough to sit outside yet, (it's 40ºF/10ºC, but the wind is cold), it's warm enough to go for long walks.
The winner is her dog!
Speaking of which, I'm going to go for a walk right now.
Our so called grown up in charge needs to man up and declare a lockdown.
ReplyDeleteThe ones disregarding advice won't need anything until the forces are on the streets enforcing it like Spain and France
GZ: It's a shame we don't do the right thing voluntarily, but it's human nature to ignore logic, in some cases!
ReplyDeleteThen, yeah, it's really great to have a REAL grown-up in charge, not a clown in a suit.