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!
This morning I enjoyed an early morning walk along Monterey Bay. I’m one who picks up pennies for good luck. Today I found a five dollar bill in the sand. A super good luck day!The tide was low and I saw mussels, anemone, limpets, and a jellyfish. Beauty abounds.
I’m by the sea in Monterey listening to and watching the movement of tides. Sea otters float up and down in their wraps of kelp. Some are mothers with babies on their tummy laps, rocking lullabies, up and down, in and out. Seals and gulls bellow and squawk, while Cormorants regally float and watch.
Reading the news, I rock up and down, rhythmic with the tides and waves.
When I look down into the circles and spirals of waves interacting with land, moving in and out, I see what Van Gogh saw when looking at air. Beauty is everywhere, and this virus taps us to wake and know we live in movement and exchange.
Beauty in land and sea meeting and nurturing in exchange
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.
My husband and I drove down the coast today to Monterey. We enjoyed breakfast in the tiny town of Pescadero. It feels like a whole other world, so calm and quiet, with fear at rest.
The ocean, oh, my. The beauty and sound of the ocean soothes.
I sit here now listening to the waves after watching otters and walking along enjoying the views. The waves never stop; they keep coming, each one unique. My brain aligns with their rhythm; all is well.
Last night we watched the movie The Two Popes. I couldn’t recommend it more. It’s an examination of growth and learning, integration of human and spiritual, surrendering to a voice within that connects with what sparks, ignites, and connects us all.Immerse!
“As the World Turns” is the name of a soap opera my mother watched when I was young. The words keep running through my head as each moment seems to bring new, and sometimes conflicting, information on the coronavirus.
I’m also with these words which seem to be controversial as to origin, but certainly fit what is needed right now as we recognize boundaries are fluid.
Between stimulus and response there is a space.
In that space is our power to choose our response.
In our response lies our growth and our freedom.
Yesterday I saw my neighbor – no hug – no hugging meditation as Thich Nhat Hanh describes it. We kept our distance as we spoke. Then, I met a friend for lunch, against my son’s advice, and we walked toward each other, arms spread, but then, stopped at a distance.
Another friend tells me she received an email notice that employees won’t be allowed in the office from now until May 31st. Last week, near her office in San Francisco, two people got in a fist fight because one person sneezed and didn’t cover his nose. Well, that was really smart but people are afraid. The times are unprecedented. We have global news and interaction, and yet, right now, it feels like we live isolated in a village of fear.
I sit with the changes we’re seeing. Office buildings have been cramming more and more people into smaller and smaller spaces, concluding that people with laptops don’t need their own desk. File cabinets no longer take up space, so people can come in and sit down at a row of counters and work.
It sounds plausible until now. What will happen when those who’ve been working from home are told they can come back into work? Will that happen?
I read that social distancing is the answer to stopping the spread of the virus, and that this is an Introvert’s dream, but I’m an introvert, and suddenly I want to be out and about. I want to see other people, touch them, physically touch them, not meet on Facetime or Zoom.
And that brings me to laughter. Laughter is a gift, and if we step back and view ourselves on this planet that is spinning and turning, well, perhaps there, we meet this moment with a little space, and choose our response with grace.
Yesterday’s Morning Sky – today I await the light and what it brings
When my sons were young they asked me if I’d choose liberty or death. Answering them, I found myself analyzing the nature of liberty. Yes, freedom matters, autonomy, and yet, with the coronavirus, I find myself in the study of cells and how they came together to form the organisms we are.
What is it to surrender to the group, and of course in that surrender, especially in war, we may die. The two are tied.
I’ve been concerned about my husband’s health, and this morning realized I have to let go, and acknowledge once again that I don’t have control.
There’s freedom in that, in surrendering to that recognition, and tears come, tears, sweet, not salt, as though dipped in honey made by bees organized in a hive.
This morning when I felt my lack of control, my jaw let go, like the jaw of a snake. I could take the world in whole, no judgment as to parts, simply whole. My pelvis released in response. I swayed, sinuous as a snake, no need to hold or brace.
I watch my grandson breathe and he breathes everywhere. His little tummy goes up and down, in and out. He is whole. I want to be like him, entranced with all that is here.
What is autonomy? I don’t know but I know I’m part of a whole, and connection is breath.
My husband and I were looking at shades of gray to paint the closet doors in his downstairs office. I leaned toward Harmony, Meditation, Serenity, and Solitude. He liked Stainless Steel. It’s his room, so he “won”, but I don’t see much difference in any of the grays. The color he chose is beautiful, soft, and light, and goes well with the white walls.
When my father died in an accident when I was 19, I realized there’s no need to search out excitement. It comes without notice, so savor and enjoy when life is calm. That’s my philosophy.
Yesterday, my son and four month old grandson came to visit. He, like any baby, is clear in his needs. What this little guy loves is the outdoors. If he cries, take him outside, and he is even more than usual, pure wonder. The birds were literally tweeting at him, and a male and female Meadowlark came to say Hello. He especially loves to smell and touch Pink Jasmine. He reaches with his tiny nose and sniffs, and gently fondles flowers and leaves with intricately sweet and tiny fingers and hands.
Later, after they left I was at the computer when I heard the clunk of my husband’s fall. He couldn’t get up and said to call 911 which I did. Suddenly our bedroom was filled with men and equipment. They got him into a chair and took him in an ambulance to the hospital. All tests show he is fine but clearly there is something wrong.
I sit here now thinking of the three little pigs and the houses they built. We like to think we built a brick house. It stands, and stands well, and for all of us, the wind may blow through. We don’t know. We can only open as it does.
One son came immediately, and the other we held off because of the little guy.
While we were in the emergency room, a call came in that a woman from Washington state was being brought in. She’d been vomiting and had a dry cough. The same man who accompanied Steve in the ambulance brought her in and stopped into our open enclosure to say Hi and see how we were doing.
All was peaceful and calm. None of the medical team wore masks, and the atmosphere was one of normalcy, peace, quiet, efficiency, and the essential nature of care and connection.
I sat there thinking how worried we’d been about getting the coronavirus, how so many things I enjoy have been cancelled, and here we were sitting in the emergency area of the hospital and all seemed relaxed with no worries at all. The woman from Washington state was wheeled past our somewhat curtained area, and though she was wearing a mask, we could hear her dry and incessant cough. Her family was with her, and I felt how we were all gathered together on a Saturday night.
As we left the hospital it was after midnight. A dirty and bedraggled man who appeared to be homeless was ushered into the emergency area by a young and sparkling clean fellow, one of the medical staff.
The ushered man was cheerful. He said, “I knew you knew I’d be back.”
And that’s how it is to spend an evening with saintson a Saturday night two nights before a full moon.
Cathy's Blog! 