Since I was a small child, first reading the books by Lloyd Alexander and Piers Anthony, the one day of summer that Ray Bradbury planted in my mind, I have been a fan of dystopian fiction. I don't know what it is about the genre that called to me, maybe the idea of something so catastrophic to society that we would revert to the basics, the idea that too much excess could send us backwards, the underdogs prevailing in a modern basic world. I don't know. But something about it appealed to me, and I glutted myself on these stories. My own daughter was no different, devouring The Hunger Games and Divergent and Matched as fast as these stories could be printed. And I read them right along with her, equally enthralled. I never imagined I'd be living in a dystopian reality, though.
Dystopia, it's not what you think it is. It's not zombies and post bomb blasted landscapes. Not towers falling and tunnels beneath the evil capitol. It's not mutants or radiation laden towns. Dystopia is defined as the antithesis to utopia, that unrealistic ideal of a perfect world first mentioned in the 16th century. A world that cannot exist. Dystopia is a society in great suffering and turmoil, one feeling great injustice. We are living in dystopia.
Let's be clear, I am suffering only in my sense of solidarity and outrage at suffering of others. My household is not starving, we are not lacking for electricity or food, or basic comforts. Or at least this is the case for today. Who knows where we will be six months from now.
Do you think that I am exaggerating? What part of societal break down is missing from the equation? We are in the midst of a pandemic, and yet, events have been so horrific that society has defied safety and gone out to protest, as they watched basic human rights crumble in front of their faces. We've been on that path for years. As a country, we've been walking that path almost since the beginning, but in the last few years, it has sped up, fueled by a hatred that I could never have imagined in even my deepest dives into dystopian fiction. At what point did some human life become worth more than others, when did some people become expendable? From my view point, none are...but the sad part of getting older is seeing things from a broader view. Not everyone sees life the way that I do, and not everyone values the same things. I can be angry about that, and I can rage about that, but I question my ability to change that.
And that's the crux of everything. How much can we change? How much can we overcome? Change happens slowly, and when it's quick and jarring, is that revolution? History shows what comes with revolutions. Que the finger pointing, the famine, the poverty and the even greater uptick in hatred. Will we, in the coming months, turn on one another, or will we form alliances? And at what cost?
As a teenager, I was the first to jump into every cause, to join every fray, and to lead every protest. I've marched on Washington, Houston, Austin, Philadelphia, and New York City. I've sat on the steps of a cathedral and refused to move. I've laid down on the 14th Street Bridge in D.C. and stopped traffic. I've been arrested, though never charged, as an idealistic teenager. As an adult, I have marched with other women, peacefully and, led fundraisers and written editorials designed to raise awareness. In the face of this year, I am feeling helpless. A raised voice doesn't seem enough, and a raised fist isn't something I'm willing to give.
And I am feeling my age. Not because I can't physically do what I did at twenty (though that is probably true), but because I'm seeing a more balanced view of life. And...parenthood has changed me. Nothing brought this home so much as yesterday. My oldest daughter was ready and packed to go to the Houston march for Black Lives Matter, in memory of George Floyd. I was frozen with indecision when she told me. She's an adult, and she can make her own choice. She's my daughter, and she lives in my house. This is in the midst of a pandemic, and she wanted to attend a crowded, potentially volatile event. Here's my own double standard - I wouldn't hesitate to go myself, but I couldn't stand the thought of the risk she was taking on herself, and what she could expose her sister to, coming home from this. In the end, she chose to go, three masks deep, and social distancing the best she could. And she chose to accept isolation upon returning, until she can get tested next week. She was willing to pay that price, because others have paid so much steeper of a price. She says that it was worth it. I agree with her, and my pride wars with terror.
We are all held in fear, and I wonder if that's not a crux of dystopia. Fear feeds anger, rage, despair, and revenge. Fear prevents love from seeping in and reason from making good decisions. Fear throws bricks, hurls hateful words, and hides us from good intentions. Fear over germs, fear over physical violence, fear over financial ruin, fear over poverty and not being able to provide for our families, fear over change. Because change is hard and the fear of it often paralyzes us.
I thought about that fear, and every dystopian novel I have read. For, in most, the protagonist prevails and triumphs over some sort of dystopian oppression. Katniss overcomes the odds and wins; Cassia seeks her love over her predestined match. There is always the hero's journey. So, what will our journey be - how will we overcome fear in this pre-dystopian landscape in which we seem to be living? Warning - there won't be a powerful theme song, a dragon, or likely not a hero's kiss at the end. But the reward will be conquering the fear and finding a way to live with the changes that need to occur.
For now, I'll continue to wear a mask to protect those I love, and the rest of humans out there, because I respect their lives. I'll keep distancing myself from all those who are not part of this immediate circle, and I'll accept a short period of time distancing myself from my daughter who exercised her rights to raise her voice. In a couple of weeks, she'll get a hug that lasts like three days, because I hate distancing myself from those I love. I will not be silent about what is right - not racial hatred, or gender inequality, or political pandering, not looting, or violence, or hate, but demand to be heard, equality, and the right to a life free of hatred, especially that based on superficial bullshit.
I accept that my life is short, by nature, and I am subject to the insanity that is part of humanity. But I do not accept that I have to sit by and watch mistreatment, hatred, or repression. Everyone has the right to the same insanity that I'm experiencing. In 2020, we are all suffering together. Let's start acting like the common enemy is an unfeeling, inhuman virus, instead of one another. Otherwise, we're going to be embracing a new dystopian landscape, and guys, I'm too old to hunt with a bow and arrow or scale walls. Utopia is not within human reach, but improving our current situation, is definitely within our abilities. Face the fear, and say no to the insanity engulfing us. Fight the virus with the few tools we have, and fight hatred with everything you have. Be safe. And, just in case, I'm going to take some fencing lessons.
Wednesday, June 3, 2020
Sunday, May 10, 2020
How Do We Mourn?
It's been a week. A month. A season. And I've lost track of days, if I'm being honest, I'm not sure of time any more. The days drag by, and then I look up and find it's been another strange month gone by. Time means little, and if not for work, who knows what time I'd sleep or wake, but my students and coworkers keep me anchored. I found out a few days ago, I can go back to my office next month, although with some fairly harsh restrictions on interactions. I'm mixed on feelings here. I long to see coworkers, but how will a school feel in isolation, without students? I'll lose those long breaks for working out, days spent dressed professionally only from the waist up, doing zoom classes while petting my cats. But in exchange for being back go my semi normal. And still, without students, so how will this trade off feel, without the kids who drive most of my days?
In twelve days' time, I transformed the summer program I had nurtured and grown for months into an online experience. And I mourned the crazy summer I had planned. Dance recitals and awards, music recitals and chess competitions, and belt ceremonies are now online. And I'm mourning those, too. How do I celebrate with students? One of the kiddos who is closest to my heart has earned a black belt in tae kwon do. Not an easy feat, whether you understand the effort or not, and he'll get it online. It should have been with fan fare and peer accolades, and those things will fall flat this year. My heart hurts for him. His mom and I have planned the best celebration we can.
My own daughter graduates this year, from the college that was her dream school, the one she worked her butt off to attend with a scholarship, and it'll be summarized with an hour on zoom, with some minor applause from those she knows best. No celebration for her last final, no hugs from friends, no high fives from her professors. Just a goodbye on the screen. And she's on to a life that includes deferred interviews and a movie that she filmed that may never come to light, and auditions that fall to the way side.
So, how do we mourn? Life goes on, and those I love are all actually OK. Though I know several of those touched by this horrid disease, none are permanently down, and few have family members who are. Many had some miserable, sick, days, including me, but life goes on. But we've lost so much. We lost connection.
Don't discount this. We are a world full of people in mourning for what should have been, for people we love and for everything we took for granted. We are in mourning for the moments when we could hug someone we cared about without concern. When we could go into a store without concern and touch things with abandon. We are mourning for a freedom to move about, to express opinions without judgement, to take our next breath for granted. We lost a kind of freedom that was dreamed about by my great grandparents. Something they fought for, and something they only imagined in the face of war, disease, poverty and persecution. I grew up in a golden age when none of those things were obstacles. And now, as my own children come of age, there is so much fear and unknown. I mourn for their futures and for the idea that they can never take safety and health for granted as I was able to do as a young adult.
We, as a society, deserve this chance to mourn something we have lost. Never again will life look the way it did three months ago. Never again will I go in public and feel comfortable with strangers in my personal "bubble." Never again will I take for granted my ability to acquire basic items I need to live comfortably without concern in my own home. Never again will I assume I can stand face to face with those I love and have a conversation. None of these things are given.
Not everyone has the same response. Some have responded with anger and hatred and violence. Some have chosen to not wear masks or acknowledge the fears of others. I try to walk in their shoes, to not be angry or understand their choices. They aren't my decisions to make, and I can only control my own actions and responses, despite my emotional responses. Please, though, respect my choices, made based on having children at home and an 89 year old parent who depends on me. If we respect one another, it'll be ok eventually. I think.
And I'm fucking mourning the easy life I've lived for 47 years. Yeah, I'll be OK. I'll survive and maybe thrive, because I rise up to adversity. But I get to mourn, and so do you. We get to be angry and hurt and cry and scream about the unfairness of the universe in this case. Do it with me. Join in on the universal cry of "fuck you." Like Maya Angelou, one off my favorite humans, we will rise. But it's ok to do so amidst the ashes of the past, and to resent those burning embers, with every fiber of your being.
So, fuck you disease and political dissidence, and confusion. Fuck you to death and destruction. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you that racism continues in the light of this craziness. Fuck you to anger and hatred that shouldn't flourish in the light of this insanity. But it does anyway. So fuck you, hatred. I choose love. And I choose laughter. And I choose my friends, and family, and thriving every single day. And I choose to mourn what I have lost, with every fiber of my being, before I can move forward. Every single, fucking, day sucks because of something I can't control. But I can control how I respond, and I choose this to be productive and positive and full of love. I choose to mourn, and mourn hard, and move forward, one day at a time.
In twelve days' time, I transformed the summer program I had nurtured and grown for months into an online experience. And I mourned the crazy summer I had planned. Dance recitals and awards, music recitals and chess competitions, and belt ceremonies are now online. And I'm mourning those, too. How do I celebrate with students? One of the kiddos who is closest to my heart has earned a black belt in tae kwon do. Not an easy feat, whether you understand the effort or not, and he'll get it online. It should have been with fan fare and peer accolades, and those things will fall flat this year. My heart hurts for him. His mom and I have planned the best celebration we can.
My own daughter graduates this year, from the college that was her dream school, the one she worked her butt off to attend with a scholarship, and it'll be summarized with an hour on zoom, with some minor applause from those she knows best. No celebration for her last final, no hugs from friends, no high fives from her professors. Just a goodbye on the screen. And she's on to a life that includes deferred interviews and a movie that she filmed that may never come to light, and auditions that fall to the way side.
So, how do we mourn? Life goes on, and those I love are all actually OK. Though I know several of those touched by this horrid disease, none are permanently down, and few have family members who are. Many had some miserable, sick, days, including me, but life goes on. But we've lost so much. We lost connection.
Don't discount this. We are a world full of people in mourning for what should have been, for people we love and for everything we took for granted. We are in mourning for the moments when we could hug someone we cared about without concern. When we could go into a store without concern and touch things with abandon. We are mourning for a freedom to move about, to express opinions without judgement, to take our next breath for granted. We lost a kind of freedom that was dreamed about by my great grandparents. Something they fought for, and something they only imagined in the face of war, disease, poverty and persecution. I grew up in a golden age when none of those things were obstacles. And now, as my own children come of age, there is so much fear and unknown. I mourn for their futures and for the idea that they can never take safety and health for granted as I was able to do as a young adult.
We, as a society, deserve this chance to mourn something we have lost. Never again will life look the way it did three months ago. Never again will I go in public and feel comfortable with strangers in my personal "bubble." Never again will I take for granted my ability to acquire basic items I need to live comfortably without concern in my own home. Never again will I assume I can stand face to face with those I love and have a conversation. None of these things are given.
Not everyone has the same response. Some have responded with anger and hatred and violence. Some have chosen to not wear masks or acknowledge the fears of others. I try to walk in their shoes, to not be angry or understand their choices. They aren't my decisions to make, and I can only control my own actions and responses, despite my emotional responses. Please, though, respect my choices, made based on having children at home and an 89 year old parent who depends on me. If we respect one another, it'll be ok eventually. I think.
And I'm fucking mourning the easy life I've lived for 47 years. Yeah, I'll be OK. I'll survive and maybe thrive, because I rise up to adversity. But I get to mourn, and so do you. We get to be angry and hurt and cry and scream about the unfairness of the universe in this case. Do it with me. Join in on the universal cry of "fuck you." Like Maya Angelou, one off my favorite humans, we will rise. But it's ok to do so amidst the ashes of the past, and to resent those burning embers, with every fiber of your being.
So, fuck you disease and political dissidence, and confusion. Fuck you to death and destruction. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you that racism continues in the light of this craziness. Fuck you to anger and hatred that shouldn't flourish in the light of this insanity. But it does anyway. So fuck you, hatred. I choose love. And I choose laughter. And I choose my friends, and family, and thriving every single day. And I choose to mourn what I have lost, with every fiber of my being, before I can move forward. Every single, fucking, day sucks because of something I can't control. But I can control how I respond, and I choose this to be productive and positive and full of love. I choose to mourn, and mourn hard, and move forward, one day at a time.
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Disaster
Tonight, as I sit on my patio in near perfect Spring weather - a rare occurrence in Houston - I am struck by the irony of loving this moment, of finding perfection in today's weather, and today's classes, and in living today, and the fact that I'm stuck in the middle of some kind of nightmare. So, ok, my personal existence is not a nightmare. Let me qualify, I'm mostly healthy again and my kids are here, and they are healthy now, too. We have food and electricity, and entertainment, and I work from home and am not without income. My life is OK, but the world around me, less so.
And I am struck, not by the first time, by a reading from long ago by one of my favorite authors, when she literally broke down the word disaster. I am fluent in Latin and know some Greek, and yet this had never occurred to me until I read the words Madeleine L'Engle wrote in her book A Stone for A Pillow. The word, disaster, breaks down to mean, quite literally, a separation from the stars. A separation from the stars is a separation from the universe, from the earth, and connection to the natural world around us. It's a perfect description for where I am today.
At this particular moment, I am sitting under the fading sun, feeling a breeze blow, listening to more quiet than I usually hear in this neighborhood. A neighbor plays his trumpet - kind of badly, if I tell the truth. Another neighbor plays basketball, and the rhythmic thumping of the ball on concrete is a reminder that I'm not alone. Behind me there is a wall where I color in, every single day, a brick for each day we have been in isolation. Mine was broken by almost three days in ICU for a cardiac emergency caused by a virus. What virus? Who knows...my fever didn't get high enough to do more than eliminate flu and strep. I was told a COVID-19 test wasn't available for me and I'd be either critical or recovered before the results came back anyway...yea Texas. I'll never know what sent me to the ER in the middle of the night, scared I'd never see my kids again. Never know what damaged my heart and left me on four medications and a need for a cardiologist at 47 years old. Never know what made me cough until a rib popped out of place and made me faint in an ER before they even knew my name or why I was there, waking up with a mask on my face and asked to put nitro under my tongue. Because they wouldn't reach under my mask to put it there for me. I will not know, unless they retro test me for many things, why I was more sick than I have ever been in my life or why I turned somewhat for the better, despite seven more days of coughing and low grade fever once I got home. The heart issues are better, but not gone, and I take meds for someone's grandmother. Not for me, someone who works out 5-6 times a week and has the cholesterol count and resting heart rate of a prime marathon runner. This can't be my new reality, right?
But now, almost three weeks later, my life carries on. And not the same. It will never be the same. Those last words have been the hardest for me to absorb. That never part is difficult for the most pragmatic of us. Things will never be the same as before mid-March. In early March, I was looking forward to my kids coming home for Spring Break, for being off work for ten days, nurturing a somewhat new dating partner, and being thankful for my friends and all the events we had coming up this spring. In early March, I was figuring out how I'd manage the timeline of my daughter's college graduation, and figuring out days we could spend with my almost 89 year old father, and how to balance so many things. Time was always a problem.
Time is no longer the problem. I have so much time. Some days I think that I am drowning in time. I read, and I paint, talk to friends, and sleep in until I have an actual meeting or work obligation, because paperwork - I can do that any time. I laugh with my students and commiserate with colleagues and I attend happy hours and dance parties, and birthdays and weddings on Zoom. I long to hug someone, to have human touch. The person I had a fledgling dating scenario with before this all happened, he has vanished with the virus. Clearly, in retrospect, this would have ended in time anyway, but I miss that contact, too, for he was an artist like I aspire to one day be. But other people, the more steady in my life, they have upped their connection. We talk to one another daily, and we remember what is important and what is real. We find one another in low moments, and in the holy like on Easter or the moments like tonight when I feel the beauty of the universe around me.
So...disaster. Only if we choose to let it separate us from the heart of the world. The natural world. The human connection. Disaster only if we let it keep us from those we love. My job and income will survive and revive. My daughter's graduation will happen online. I'll do jiu jitsu again some day and I bought a dummy to train until that day. I have food to eat and children here to love and nurture. And I am outside. I am feeling the earth beneath my feet and I see the sky above. The stars are more clear than they normally are in my urban setting and I feel grounded. The earth will spin with or without me, but I hope that it's with me, so I can get more time to find my connections. Disaster. I felt it when the hurricanes raged and cut me off from my friends and I was afraid. Disaster when 911 came and I couldn't reach loved ones and felt the fury of the universe. Disaster, when the world stands still and we are separated from one another, and from the stars that guide us. There is no mistake that navigation is by the stars. Without them and their place in the universe, we are lost. But they are still there - I saw them last night. I'm not lost, and neither are you, just left in a place to listen to the silence and think about what the new normal might be.
We are not in a disaster, but in a rebirth of what we need to live our lives. We are not separate, but still and listening. I hear it all, and I'm waiting, to be enlightened and emboldened for a future. Not disaster, but recentering of myself. A new awareness I wait, separate, but not separated, and very connected to those I love. Very connected to the earth and a vast universe. This is not a disaster but a new beginning. Love to all those who have connected with me and made me feel grounded on a night without stars, without the breeze, and without the physical. It will come back around.
A virus has no heart, it has no soul, and it has no brain. It lives to replicate and consume. We are human and all too susceptible, and at the same time, our consciousness will allow us to rise. To sit, biding our time, staying steadily connected to the universe in a healthy and stealthy way. We will rise, as steadily as the bats I now watch soaring over the setting sun and skyline beyond my patio walls. I won't be here forever. Disasters end, and we go on. Hopefully different and wiser than before. But still we go on.
And I am struck, not by the first time, by a reading from long ago by one of my favorite authors, when she literally broke down the word disaster. I am fluent in Latin and know some Greek, and yet this had never occurred to me until I read the words Madeleine L'Engle wrote in her book A Stone for A Pillow. The word, disaster, breaks down to mean, quite literally, a separation from the stars. A separation from the stars is a separation from the universe, from the earth, and connection to the natural world around us. It's a perfect description for where I am today.
At this particular moment, I am sitting under the fading sun, feeling a breeze blow, listening to more quiet than I usually hear in this neighborhood. A neighbor plays his trumpet - kind of badly, if I tell the truth. Another neighbor plays basketball, and the rhythmic thumping of the ball on concrete is a reminder that I'm not alone. Behind me there is a wall where I color in, every single day, a brick for each day we have been in isolation. Mine was broken by almost three days in ICU for a cardiac emergency caused by a virus. What virus? Who knows...my fever didn't get high enough to do more than eliminate flu and strep. I was told a COVID-19 test wasn't available for me and I'd be either critical or recovered before the results came back anyway...yea Texas. I'll never know what sent me to the ER in the middle of the night, scared I'd never see my kids again. Never know what damaged my heart and left me on four medications and a need for a cardiologist at 47 years old. Never know what made me cough until a rib popped out of place and made me faint in an ER before they even knew my name or why I was there, waking up with a mask on my face and asked to put nitro under my tongue. Because they wouldn't reach under my mask to put it there for me. I will not know, unless they retro test me for many things, why I was more sick than I have ever been in my life or why I turned somewhat for the better, despite seven more days of coughing and low grade fever once I got home. The heart issues are better, but not gone, and I take meds for someone's grandmother. Not for me, someone who works out 5-6 times a week and has the cholesterol count and resting heart rate of a prime marathon runner. This can't be my new reality, right?
But now, almost three weeks later, my life carries on. And not the same. It will never be the same. Those last words have been the hardest for me to absorb. That never part is difficult for the most pragmatic of us. Things will never be the same as before mid-March. In early March, I was looking forward to my kids coming home for Spring Break, for being off work for ten days, nurturing a somewhat new dating partner, and being thankful for my friends and all the events we had coming up this spring. In early March, I was figuring out how I'd manage the timeline of my daughter's college graduation, and figuring out days we could spend with my almost 89 year old father, and how to balance so many things. Time was always a problem.
Time is no longer the problem. I have so much time. Some days I think that I am drowning in time. I read, and I paint, talk to friends, and sleep in until I have an actual meeting or work obligation, because paperwork - I can do that any time. I laugh with my students and commiserate with colleagues and I attend happy hours and dance parties, and birthdays and weddings on Zoom. I long to hug someone, to have human touch. The person I had a fledgling dating scenario with before this all happened, he has vanished with the virus. Clearly, in retrospect, this would have ended in time anyway, but I miss that contact, too, for he was an artist like I aspire to one day be. But other people, the more steady in my life, they have upped their connection. We talk to one another daily, and we remember what is important and what is real. We find one another in low moments, and in the holy like on Easter or the moments like tonight when I feel the beauty of the universe around me.
So...disaster. Only if we choose to let it separate us from the heart of the world. The natural world. The human connection. Disaster only if we let it keep us from those we love. My job and income will survive and revive. My daughter's graduation will happen online. I'll do jiu jitsu again some day and I bought a dummy to train until that day. I have food to eat and children here to love and nurture. And I am outside. I am feeling the earth beneath my feet and I see the sky above. The stars are more clear than they normally are in my urban setting and I feel grounded. The earth will spin with or without me, but I hope that it's with me, so I can get more time to find my connections. Disaster. I felt it when the hurricanes raged and cut me off from my friends and I was afraid. Disaster when 911 came and I couldn't reach loved ones and felt the fury of the universe. Disaster, when the world stands still and we are separated from one another, and from the stars that guide us. There is no mistake that navigation is by the stars. Without them and their place in the universe, we are lost. But they are still there - I saw them last night. I'm not lost, and neither are you, just left in a place to listen to the silence and think about what the new normal might be.
We are not in a disaster, but in a rebirth of what we need to live our lives. We are not separate, but still and listening. I hear it all, and I'm waiting, to be enlightened and emboldened for a future. Not disaster, but recentering of myself. A new awareness I wait, separate, but not separated, and very connected to those I love. Very connected to the earth and a vast universe. This is not a disaster but a new beginning. Love to all those who have connected with me and made me feel grounded on a night without stars, without the breeze, and without the physical. It will come back around.
A virus has no heart, it has no soul, and it has no brain. It lives to replicate and consume. We are human and all too susceptible, and at the same time, our consciousness will allow us to rise. To sit, biding our time, staying steadily connected to the universe in a healthy and stealthy way. We will rise, as steadily as the bats I now watch soaring over the setting sun and skyline beyond my patio walls. I won't be here forever. Disasters end, and we go on. Hopefully different and wiser than before. But still we go on.
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
In the Still of the Night
Today, I have been in two meetings, observed three classes, and had two social events. The common domoninator is that these were, in fact, all online. It has, in fact, been almost three weeks since I have seen coworkers, gym partners and students in person. My neck aches, from staring down at a screen, and sometimes my jaw feels permanently clenched. Clenched because I can't answer parent quesitons, or coworkers asking how long this will go on. Clenched because I'm technologically proficient for myself, but not enough to provide guidance to others. I spend a part of my day stabbing at the dark, trying to fix their connection issues. Between zoom sessions, I work out, and do the dishes, and disinfect my house as much as I'm able, and try to get some sunlight. Between panicked e-mails I find time to cook for my own children, and make a few jokes. Today, from 6-7 a.m., I took a nap, because I was answering genuinely concerned messages at 3 a.m. I have become a 24/7 tech support and confidant. I wouldn't change this for everything, and welcome every call, but what happens when my abilities run dry. It's inevitable, you know.
And, I worry about this. What happens when I am no longer enough, and I can't answer questions or tell my kids what is next. In the middle of the night, the silence reminds me that I don't know all the quesitons, and I don't know almost any of the answers. So, what then? In the silence of the night, I face my limitations.
The first few days at home were surreal and it was technically Spring Break, so I felt ok with delayed responses and assurances that I was looking into things. Here we are, 1.5 weeks into working at home and I'm wishing I had more concrete answers than I do. See, everything from here on out is a variable. If this, then that. I can't give you an concrete response or tell you what is coming next. It's out of my control. It's out of human control.
I place myself at the mercy of god, of statistics, of fate, of karma, or whatever you believe. I do what i think is best for those around me - staying separated, only purchasing what I need, when I need it, taking precautions, but not letting them take over my life. I focus on my family at home, and my students and their families online. Because it's all I can do. Last week, I spent a couple of nights in the ICU thanks to a bad reaction to over the counter medication, and I have a whole new perspective. A little weird heart rate is the least of our concerns. I'm resilient, and yet I'm taking the most conservative approach, because I don't want to become one of the patients I saw coming through that ER. And I'm staying isolated, because my kids don't need me to become one of those statistics. Stay put, my friends, and fight whatever demons plague your mind.
In the still of the night, doubts assault me- am I doing enough. Am I enough? I can't stand alone against this storm, but I can ride the tide and do what is asked of me. Can I quell this anxiety, yes, because I won't let the darkness win. And, so, I focus on gratitude. In the quiet of the 3 a.m. silence, I think about those who help make me who I am, and I am grateful.
Gratitude sounds like such a platitude, but it's not. When I focus on those things, I see an end to this nightmare reality. When I focus on gratitude, I remember why I do many of the things that I do, and why I love so much of my life.
So, breaths in and out, and gratitude to all those I love, and those who love me. In the middle of the night, I might sometimes be afraid, but I am never alone. Neither are you. Live every damn day, fear or no. We will make it, together, to the bright side of the fear. Love to all my friends.
And, I worry about this. What happens when I am no longer enough, and I can't answer questions or tell my kids what is next. In the middle of the night, the silence reminds me that I don't know all the quesitons, and I don't know almost any of the answers. So, what then? In the silence of the night, I face my limitations.
The first few days at home were surreal and it was technically Spring Break, so I felt ok with delayed responses and assurances that I was looking into things. Here we are, 1.5 weeks into working at home and I'm wishing I had more concrete answers than I do. See, everything from here on out is a variable. If this, then that. I can't give you an concrete response or tell you what is coming next. It's out of my control. It's out of human control.
I place myself at the mercy of god, of statistics, of fate, of karma, or whatever you believe. I do what i think is best for those around me - staying separated, only purchasing what I need, when I need it, taking precautions, but not letting them take over my life. I focus on my family at home, and my students and their families online. Because it's all I can do. Last week, I spent a couple of nights in the ICU thanks to a bad reaction to over the counter medication, and I have a whole new perspective. A little weird heart rate is the least of our concerns. I'm resilient, and yet I'm taking the most conservative approach, because I don't want to become one of the patients I saw coming through that ER. And I'm staying isolated, because my kids don't need me to become one of those statistics. Stay put, my friends, and fight whatever demons plague your mind.
In the still of the night, doubts assault me- am I doing enough. Am I enough? I can't stand alone against this storm, but I can ride the tide and do what is asked of me. Can I quell this anxiety, yes, because I won't let the darkness win. And, so, I focus on gratitude. In the quiet of the 3 a.m. silence, I think about those who help make me who I am, and I am grateful.
Gratitude sounds like such a platitude, but it's not. When I focus on those things, I see an end to this nightmare reality. When I focus on gratitude, I remember why I do many of the things that I do, and why I love so much of my life.
So, breaths in and out, and gratitude to all those I love, and those who love me. In the middle of the night, I might sometimes be afraid, but I am never alone. Neither are you. Live every damn day, fear or no. We will make it, together, to the bright side of the fear. Love to all my friends.
Sunday, March 22, 2020
So, Just Stay Home
SO where, do we go from here?
For the last five days or so I have been pretending that life goes on as normal. I ordered groceries off life and off line and fussed at my kids - the new normal. I did my regular daily work outs and face timed friends. The outbreak is annoyingg but not stopping our daily lives. Part of me knows this is not true. Part of me sees the global indications, but I ignore this due to social media posts and a desire to see Spring Break as usual. Meanwhile, my kids came in from LAX, dazed refugees from the pandemic on the west coast and the spring break panic. COVID-19 is coming.
I can't hide from this one. Can't protect my kids or make my own behavior ahead of the curve. In this madness, everyone is vulnerable. and everyone is a possibility. Social distancing....that's just fancy talk for some people obey the rules and some people don't.
And still I talk about "when this is over," while I ignored my stomach ache and fatigue and sense of something isn't right. I mean,I didn't ignore the quarantine and when I was told to isolate or distance myself, while my kids watched with wide spread eyes, I did what they told me to do.
But my cough is coming and my temperature is climbing despite my low risk status. And I wear a mask and gloves, because I made sure my students were unafraid last week and I stayed to the end.
This is the new normal, my friends. Eventually, the majority of us will get this virus, and we can only hope it will be kind in its visit. At this moment I have either corona virus or a host of other mild spring colds and flu bugs. No way of knowing since my normally 97.4 temperature stays below 99.2. I'm not a canidate for testing.
Meanwhile, my college age kids brought me dinner in my room and only visit when I wear a mask and gloves, and they stand in a doorway more than 10 feet away. They haven't been outside of this house in a week, and even longer for me. And my household chores fall largely on them now. To feed the pets and take out garbage and clean the house as I normally do.
Let me be clear I am a in no immediate danger. . I still do yoga and I'm still writing and working, but with a sense of being tired and a nagging cough catching up to me. My bedroom is sleeping space, and office, and gym, and art studio, and library and more this week. And likely next week too. There is a part of me that hopes I don't have it, that I'm just suffering from normal spring allergies or a cold. Part of me would like to get it over with, so I can quit worrying. Because odds are on my side that it'll be not much more than a week of unpleasantness. Yet another part of me says I'm being a silly ninny because any sickness is bad.
This, this is our new reality. Do we keep going forward or stop to halt an enemy we can't see. Its a daily struggle. And it doesn't matter our political leanings or our feelings. It marches forward blindly and we have to respond in kind. If you can stay home. if you can stop progress in any way, do it. Don't go to work. Don't go to school. Don't see that friend. Stay home. It's not about a political agenda or altrusim. This is about your dad or mom or friend who can't survive a respiratory virus or being in distress. It's about your child who vapes despite telling you they don't. It's about your friend who has risks they won't disclose. It's about people you know remotely who wouldn't connect with this virus if you just stayed home and read a book or watched Netflix. I get it - I'm an ambivert who needs contact with others at time. But get your contact online and away from a virus that doesn't give a shit about anything and lives to replicate and thrive without remorse. It doesn't feel for us. It might be alive but isn't a life. Your friends and family are lives. Stay the fuck in your house for a few weeks. I'll play words with friends with you. You will probably win. Stay home.
Stay home and play a game. I'll play one online with you or your kid. Do an art project - I'll do it with you. And yours will likely be more awesome. Stay home. write a story. i'll read it aloud and will read you one of mine. I do slam poetry too. I'll read it for you, online, if you'll just stay home. Stay home and live, so the rest of us can as well.
For the last five days or so I have been pretending that life goes on as normal. I ordered groceries off life and off line and fussed at my kids - the new normal. I did my regular daily work outs and face timed friends. The outbreak is annoyingg but not stopping our daily lives. Part of me knows this is not true. Part of me sees the global indications, but I ignore this due to social media posts and a desire to see Spring Break as usual. Meanwhile, my kids came in from LAX, dazed refugees from the pandemic on the west coast and the spring break panic. COVID-19 is coming.
I can't hide from this one. Can't protect my kids or make my own behavior ahead of the curve. In this madness, everyone is vulnerable. and everyone is a possibility. Social distancing....that's just fancy talk for some people obey the rules and some people don't.
And still I talk about "when this is over," while I ignored my stomach ache and fatigue and sense of something isn't right. I mean,I didn't ignore the quarantine and when I was told to isolate or distance myself, while my kids watched with wide spread eyes, I did what they told me to do.
But my cough is coming and my temperature is climbing despite my low risk status. And I wear a mask and gloves, because I made sure my students were unafraid last week and I stayed to the end.
This is the new normal, my friends. Eventually, the majority of us will get this virus, and we can only hope it will be kind in its visit. At this moment I have either corona virus or a host of other mild spring colds and flu bugs. No way of knowing since my normally 97.4 temperature stays below 99.2. I'm not a canidate for testing.
Meanwhile, my college age kids brought me dinner in my room and only visit when I wear a mask and gloves, and they stand in a doorway more than 10 feet away. They haven't been outside of this house in a week, and even longer for me. And my household chores fall largely on them now. To feed the pets and take out garbage and clean the house as I normally do.
Let me be clear I am a in no immediate danger. . I still do yoga and I'm still writing and working, but with a sense of being tired and a nagging cough catching up to me. My bedroom is sleeping space, and office, and gym, and art studio, and library and more this week. And likely next week too. There is a part of me that hopes I don't have it, that I'm just suffering from normal spring allergies or a cold. Part of me would like to get it over with, so I can quit worrying. Because odds are on my side that it'll be not much more than a week of unpleasantness. Yet another part of me says I'm being a silly ninny because any sickness is bad.
This, this is our new reality. Do we keep going forward or stop to halt an enemy we can't see. Its a daily struggle. And it doesn't matter our political leanings or our feelings. It marches forward blindly and we have to respond in kind. If you can stay home. if you can stop progress in any way, do it. Don't go to work. Don't go to school. Don't see that friend. Stay home. It's not about a political agenda or altrusim. This is about your dad or mom or friend who can't survive a respiratory virus or being in distress. It's about your child who vapes despite telling you they don't. It's about your friend who has risks they won't disclose. It's about people you know remotely who wouldn't connect with this virus if you just stayed home and read a book or watched Netflix. I get it - I'm an ambivert who needs contact with others at time. But get your contact online and away from a virus that doesn't give a shit about anything and lives to replicate and thrive without remorse. It doesn't feel for us. It might be alive but isn't a life. Your friends and family are lives. Stay the fuck in your house for a few weeks. I'll play words with friends with you. You will probably win. Stay home.
Stay home and play a game. I'll play one online with you or your kid. Do an art project - I'll do it with you. And yours will likely be more awesome. Stay home. write a story. i'll read it aloud and will read you one of mine. I do slam poetry too. I'll read it for you, online, if you'll just stay home. Stay home and live, so the rest of us can as well.
Monday, March 16, 2020
The New Normal
Four days ago, I was at work. I had students and was working as normal, training as normal, and anticipating my kids coming home for Spring Break. Today, I am grateful for finding toilet paper and ground turkey at Kroger.
I've always joked that the cockroaches and viruses are going to win in the end, but...damn.
Two days ago, I did a circuit class but decided doing jiu jitsu might be a little risky, so I declined open mat rolls.
One day ago, I celebrated a friend's birthday with my kids and made a grocery run without concern. By last night, I was reconsidering everything and cancelling plans to train in my gym and have lunch with a friend.
Today, I only went out to drop off my car for service and walked/jogged home alone. I declined that shuttle service and washed my hands as soon as I walked in.
Now, my kids' university is only online this semester and they are living here indefinitely. Now, we are on next to lock down and only going outside to walk in relative solitude. Social functions have slowed to a near halt and our city is almost on lockdown. Starting tonight, bars will close, and clubs will close, concerts are cancelled and restaurants are on take out only status.
I'm living the life I only have read about in history books. I mean, we have all read about the Spanish influenza and maybe the plague. But it's so hard to put in context with our daily lives. So hard to relate to, as modern citizens, but here we are.
This is the life my grandmother lived, and I think about that sometimes. So far removed from the society that feels like everything is fixable. Modern medicine can mitigate all things. But it's not so and this is proof.
My 2020 resolution was about living with gratitude and some days this week it has been hard to find that gratitude. But, here goes. I am in a safe place, with both of my children. So far, we are pretty healthy and have all the things we need to continue to live mostly comfortably. So, we are kind of sick of one another already and would like to go out for more than a walk - but this is a total first world kind of problem.
I am currently alone, without a partner, so I go to bed alone. But I have friends who love me and check in on me, and - while it's not the same as having a partner - I'm ok. I have love in my life. All ok there.
About 15 month ago, I busted up my knee and promised to get back to full physical strength. It's been a difficult year, but I keep working and trying everyday. I can jump on my leg and I can run. It's going to take some time, but gratitude that I can keep trying. Keeping moving, no matter what.
I have a job I love. Doing it online will be challenging, but I can do this. We all can do this, and I am proud of my team. Let's move forward with plans for later this summer. We've got this!
So, gratitude I have love and my healthy kids, and my stable friends, and an ability to help others. It's all I can I hope for going into day two of staycation 2020. Gratitude, my friends, is all we can expect. Gratitude is a choice. The rest is just a wild ride.
I've always joked that the cockroaches and viruses are going to win in the end, but...damn.
Two days ago, I did a circuit class but decided doing jiu jitsu might be a little risky, so I declined open mat rolls.
One day ago, I celebrated a friend's birthday with my kids and made a grocery run without concern. By last night, I was reconsidering everything and cancelling plans to train in my gym and have lunch with a friend.
Today, I only went out to drop off my car for service and walked/jogged home alone. I declined that shuttle service and washed my hands as soon as I walked in.
Now, my kids' university is only online this semester and they are living here indefinitely. Now, we are on next to lock down and only going outside to walk in relative solitude. Social functions have slowed to a near halt and our city is almost on lockdown. Starting tonight, bars will close, and clubs will close, concerts are cancelled and restaurants are on take out only status.
I'm living the life I only have read about in history books. I mean, we have all read about the Spanish influenza and maybe the plague. But it's so hard to put in context with our daily lives. So hard to relate to, as modern citizens, but here we are.
This is the life my grandmother lived, and I think about that sometimes. So far removed from the society that feels like everything is fixable. Modern medicine can mitigate all things. But it's not so and this is proof.
My 2020 resolution was about living with gratitude and some days this week it has been hard to find that gratitude. But, here goes. I am in a safe place, with both of my children. So far, we are pretty healthy and have all the things we need to continue to live mostly comfortably. So, we are kind of sick of one another already and would like to go out for more than a walk - but this is a total first world kind of problem.
I am currently alone, without a partner, so I go to bed alone. But I have friends who love me and check in on me, and - while it's not the same as having a partner - I'm ok. I have love in my life. All ok there.
About 15 month ago, I busted up my knee and promised to get back to full physical strength. It's been a difficult year, but I keep working and trying everyday. I can jump on my leg and I can run. It's going to take some time, but gratitude that I can keep trying. Keeping moving, no matter what.
I have a job I love. Doing it online will be challenging, but I can do this. We all can do this, and I am proud of my team. Let's move forward with plans for later this summer. We've got this!
So, gratitude I have love and my healthy kids, and my stable friends, and an ability to help others. It's all I can I hope for going into day two of staycation 2020. Gratitude, my friends, is all we can expect. Gratitude is a choice. The rest is just a wild ride.
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Infectious
I'm living in a new age. Or not a new age, but one that is new to me. I'm sure my grand parents who lived through Spanish Influenza of World war I era would recognize some of what is happening this week, but not all of it. Because, see, the yellow papers of that era changed some of what we know about journalism and media, and we're seeing the power of media today.
So, here I am torn...do I believe that COVID-19 is nothing to worry about and people are all over-reacting, or do I go buy a case of water and a case of toilet paper, that will do nothing to slow the spread of a respiratory based virus, because the media tells me so? Me, I think that the media has too much power and we are reacting to the WRONG part of the news, but I don't think we should ignore the situation. See, I've faced recently that I am in the minority, in terms of politics and public opinion. I don't take a side - I take issues piece by piece and I research. Party lines are too political and I take things person by person, and issue by issue. So, call me wishy-washy and call me anything you like. Too liberal for one group, and too conservative for another, but I'm finding I like to think for myself.
But now, now, what do I think? Definitely, social media creates its own reality and we are sheep if we follow it blindly. I've been caught up in that madness myself. But, really, stop and think - why are you doing what you are doing and who does it benefit? If you answer those questions, it might change your response.
So, where am I today? I'm playing in the middle of the road, like I'm playing chicken and I might get run over yet. Today I went to my gym and did a group exercise class, but I washed hands and equipment and I declined physical contact with a broader group of people. I ran errands and did what I needed to do with the public, but I declined a social invitation to a larger scale event. And, mostly, I stayed away from my dad who is 89 and recovering from some illnesses and from a friend with a young baby at home. Because I will recover from respiratory illness, but they may not. In otherwords, I'm taking things case by case and thinking it through. Please, please, no matter the issue, no matter the event, accept that media can be a tool, but use your own judgement and educate yourself. Don't be a sheep in the herd. Don't fight the herd for the sake of fighting, but look at the facts. It's not a liberal agenda or a republican platform - it's your own life, and your own decisions that will matter. Don't let politics or pride decide what is right for you or those you love. Let information and education always win, and every damn day, live the best life you can.
So, infectious virus, you are out there, and we will arm ourselves with education and information and an abundance of caution. If we are silly to avoid some things, so be it. Being silly is better than not being around to scoff. And don't make fun of those who see it that way. Love your neighbors and all their choices in these days.
So, here I am torn...do I believe that COVID-19 is nothing to worry about and people are all over-reacting, or do I go buy a case of water and a case of toilet paper, that will do nothing to slow the spread of a respiratory based virus, because the media tells me so? Me, I think that the media has too much power and we are reacting to the WRONG part of the news, but I don't think we should ignore the situation. See, I've faced recently that I am in the minority, in terms of politics and public opinion. I don't take a side - I take issues piece by piece and I research. Party lines are too political and I take things person by person, and issue by issue. So, call me wishy-washy and call me anything you like. Too liberal for one group, and too conservative for another, but I'm finding I like to think for myself.
But now, now, what do I think? Definitely, social media creates its own reality and we are sheep if we follow it blindly. I've been caught up in that madness myself. But, really, stop and think - why are you doing what you are doing and who does it benefit? If you answer those questions, it might change your response.
So, where am I today? I'm playing in the middle of the road, like I'm playing chicken and I might get run over yet. Today I went to my gym and did a group exercise class, but I washed hands and equipment and I declined physical contact with a broader group of people. I ran errands and did what I needed to do with the public, but I declined a social invitation to a larger scale event. And, mostly, I stayed away from my dad who is 89 and recovering from some illnesses and from a friend with a young baby at home. Because I will recover from respiratory illness, but they may not. In otherwords, I'm taking things case by case and thinking it through. Please, please, no matter the issue, no matter the event, accept that media can be a tool, but use your own judgement and educate yourself. Don't be a sheep in the herd. Don't fight the herd for the sake of fighting, but look at the facts. It's not a liberal agenda or a republican platform - it's your own life, and your own decisions that will matter. Don't let politics or pride decide what is right for you or those you love. Let information and education always win, and every damn day, live the best life you can.
So, infectious virus, you are out there, and we will arm ourselves with education and information and an abundance of caution. If we are silly to avoid some things, so be it. Being silly is better than not being around to scoff. And don't make fun of those who see it that way. Love your neighbors and all their choices in these days.
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