My intention is to calm and view this “shelter in place” as a retreat. One minute I’m calm, spacious, mindful, present, radiant, and the next, well, I won’t say.  

I have a beautiful place to be, a husband, two cats, trees, plants, air, so why am I struggling?

I feel like a two-year old.  “You can’t tell me what to do!  I’ll do as I please.” And yet this is serious, and I understand that.  There is a place to sit.

Perhaps the problem is I view a retreat as peaceful and forget that it allows a place for rumblings to emerge.  Who am I after all? Do I exist? Is there an I?

My mind swirls all about, looking for Mind, which of course is here, and I can settle into the hammock of it, and then, a thought pours in to drop me off a cliff where I trust I will be caught. I have skills, years of study, years of skills. I’ve been preparing for this all my life.

When I was a child in Des Moines, Iowa, I was obsessed with skills to survive a nuclear attack. Reading the newspaper, I followed a group of people who’d been placed in the desert to study how they’d do. I knew to preserve one’s urine, to recycle what pours through. Well, this isn’t a nuclear attack and we have skills as a civilization. We have knowledge and wisdom, love and connection, and we’ll make it through.

I meditate, and ground.  My breath is here, and it’s a thrill to focus on my nostrils and feel, honor, and appreciate how creatively breath moves in and out.  That should be enough excitement for any day. There’s no repetition at all. I’m amazing, and I want to keep this place of amazement, but then the words of Heraclitus flow in:

“No man (or woman) ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river, and he’s not the same man (or woman).

So true.

Yesterday, a man came to spray our oak trees.  With the rain last year, the Sudden Oak Death Syndrome returned, and like that, we lost one of our anchoring oaks.  This man boosts the immune system of the remaining trees with a special vitamin mix fertilizer, so no poison is used to kill the disease, but instead a strengthening system is sprayed and spread to build up the immunity of the trees. 

Immunotherapy for trees.  He sprayed in the fall, and when he came yesterday, he said it’s working.  The remaining trees are doing great, and spreading out branches and leaves to welcome spring.

He kept reassuring me as he stood eight feet away that he was “safe”.  He fishes in the morning, the kind of fishing where you stand alone on the bank with no one near, and he’s with trees in the afternoon.  He didn’t hand me the bill, but leaned down to tuck it under the rug. He did take the check from my hand, and putting it in his pocket said he would leave it there for a few days.

Meanwhile I sit with why I’m struggling.  I love isolation, time to sit, but I hadn’t realized how much I intersperse isolation with activity, with a balance of in and out, and how I love to go to the grocery store and choose my produce, and wander through aisles with other people, children, and carts.

I keep coming back to myself though since that’s who’s here. I’m here, a playground of radiance and entertainment with blood and breath flowing through. I’m connected, touched, and I’m always new!

In this exploration, I’m especially aware of sound and the lack of it. My ears have expanded to touch vibration as it comes, to reach for it.  Oh, yes, what delight is this meeting of vibration from outside as it enters and caresses my eardrum. Touch!

And the three tiny bones in the middle ear, the hammer, anvil, and stirrup. I’m back in fifth grade where I made a clay model of the ear. My ears are entertainment centers. Sound travels through my feet and gut. I’m one, one with my universe, our universe. Relationship abounds.

And here’s some humor for the day.

Prediction – There will be a minor baby boom in 9 months, and in 2033, we’ll witness the rise of the Quaranteens.

May this be so!

It’s St. Patrick’s Day and the pink in the sky reminds me of my intention to wear pink today, not green. I intend to attract leprechauns, and their spray of fairy dust.  There is a place, many places in my yard where they hang out, but today is the day they venture more visibly forth.

Figuring we need to mobilize all we can, I toss a little magical thinking your way this day.

Legend states that the Christian missionary Patrick rid Ireland of snakes during the fifth century A.D by leading them to the sea.  Scientists say the climate of Ireland was not conducive to snakes since the Ice Age so one might ask themselves from where the story came.  

I conclude that like Buddha and Christ, Patrick was simply meeting and bringing forth his inner demons and leading them to the sea. There, begone, a gentle riddance, since demons snakes and salt are not a good mix.

Since many of us are sheltered in place and can’t visit the sea today, or maybe we don’t live near, I suggest we fill a glass or bowl with water, no salt, bless it with loving intention, and toss fear, anger, and sorrow into the glass or bowl. Then, visit a plant, and pour the water gently over, a baptism, a soothing release of fear, anger, and sorrow.

The plant will respond with a blast of oxygen, the fuel that sparks our bloom, and saintliness will cleanse the day. The moon is half right now, balancing yin and yang, as it strokes our heart with trust and liveliness that springs.

I’m feeling a bit shell-shocked.  We are home and sheltered in place.  I understand the purpose and our kitties are happy.  I’m wondering now if this is a plot by our pets. They are clapping their paws together; You mean you won’t leave.  Our dreams have come true. You’ve finally figured it out. We are the most important beings in your life. It’s always been so clear and you didn’t see, but now you do. Always faithful are we, and now together in our home we will be.

But, more seriously, what is this for each of us? I keep reading that this is a pause, a chance to reflect. Yes, and for me, the parameters haven’t sunk in. I’ve crossed out everything on my calendar, and now I sit with what I might do, and of course there’s plenty I can do.   What an opportunity I might think, but instead I feel sad.

I need time to feel and find my way to serenity.  I’m puzzled. What does this mean? When will I see my children and friends? What will happen to people without jobs? How can the economy shut down and people survive? When will this end? Will isolation do the trick?

I understand this is an opportunity to expand our idea of family, but right now I’m scared. 

What happened to the carousel that was my world? How could it come to a halt? I understand it’s up to me to make my world, to feel support, and I will, well, in a few moments, I will. I’m still sliding my feet, using them as brakes, screaming no, this isn’t what I want, and now all my skills are scattered around me like pick-up sticks, and slowly I’ll pick each one up and make a ladder and climb to a wider view.

Yes, in a few moments that’s what I’ll do, but right now I’m in a slump.

Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day. I’m told we wear green so the leprechauns can’t see us. Wearing green, we blend into the emerald isle.

This year I’m going to wear pink and beckon the leprechauns to come out, and sprinkle leprechaun magic all about. Isolating allows our collective power to spread, and pressure turns carbon to diamond, and in this dance of mindful awareness, we spin new ways to connect and heal.

May this be so, and may we all be well!

I believe in physics and Newton’s third law, that “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”  It seems we in CA who are over 65 are being told to stay at home, to not leave our abode. I have always been a law-abiding citizen but there is something about this order that is pushing me out to walk, walk, walk.  We have to show our ID’s to buy alcohol. Will we now be accosted on the street to show our ID if we appear to be over 65?

My son sends me this as consolation: “Your grandparents were called to war.  You are being called to sit on your couch. You can do this.” 

Well, actually my grandfather and father went to war, one to WWI, the war to end all wars, and the other to WWII.  My father was a pilot in WWII who on his 34th mission in a B-17 was shot down and parachuting out of a burning plane landed in Austria near Germany.  He was handed over to the SS and placed in a POW camp in the north of Germany for 18 months until the war ended. When he tried to escape he was placed in solitary confinement standing in water.   

I sit here now wondering if this confinement of the elderly, we who were told by scientists that “60 is the new 50”, is an overreaction. My sons say it is essential. They are both self-quarantined, and they are young. They say it must be done.

Anemone and mussels close to survive low tide. I’ll do the same. Homeward bound. May we all be well!

When Trump was asked whether he took responsibility for the disaster regarding the coronavirus because he got rid of the pandemic team in 2018, he responded, “I don’t take responsibility at all.”

According to dictionary.com, the definition of responsibility is “the state or fact of being responsible, answerable, or accountable for something within one’s power, control, or management”.

Isn’t that the definition of the job of the president, being “answerable, or accountable for something within one’s power, control, or management?

President Truman had a thirteen-inch sign on his Oval Office desk, “The buck stops here.”  He understood that the president has to make decisions and then take responsibility for those decisions.

We, as organisms, respond to stimulus.  We expand or contract, in love or fear, in desire to explore, or need to protect.  We live in connection on a planet where we share the ongoing cycles of water and air.  Our hearts beat together. Like the waves in the ocean, we are one.

For those at home, this is a pause, a pause to reflect on what really matters.  My son says his boss told them this is a time to be with family, and yet, right now, in honoring self-quarantining, we connect by phone, not in person, and maybe that connects with knowing enough, and recognizing ever more clearly the oneness we are.