A Hodgepodge

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A friend sent "All Together" a piece she had written about trying to understand how things are now. It was two pages of her fear and worry laid bare, the kind of thing that seems like a drag but which was a balm for me. I thought, "thank goodness, someone else feels these things too." It was also beautifully written. Such a lovely gift to receive.

I wrote a rant about the man-child in the White House to which I won't subject you. I needed to write it, to respond to a liar, but he will ever acknowledge he lies, that he's ever wrong, that he harms others. There's nothing to do but move on from him and hope fate sweeps him away soon.

Another friend called about her situation. It's not good. A loved one tested positive but is unable to care for himself. But it's not all bad. Her parents will care for him she has family with whom she's staying and being cared for.

Yesterday, I had a good meeting and felt renewed vigor from it. Some of that vigor remains today.

My daughters and wife are healthy. It turns out that our house is one of the happier houses I know. It has often been that way, but what a comfort that in these times it's as true as ever.

There is work to do. This morning I drafted two grants for emergency funding, my small part in keeping the community centers running. Writing felt like doing something. I'll keep searching for those opportunities.

Our dog and the cats have help. Last night, though she does not love hugging or cuddling, our dog let me hug and cuddle her as she curled on her bed waiting to be allowed some peace. She gave me comfort. I give her cheese and chicken while I prepare dinner. We both think that's a good deal.

My daughters went outside to paint. Then the rain came. Governor Cuomo wants everyone staying indoors. What does that mean for us?

Tonight the wind will tear through our region. I lowered the basketball hoop. We are charging our devices in case we lose power. I was never one for checking weather reports and now it seems almost indecent to follow any news but that of the virus. Who wants to think about the ten-day forecast?

I'm inside listening to a Cannonball Adderley record on my turntable. I'll have lots of time to listen to records now.

When I see anyone from my window or when walking down the street, I wave and say hello. We're all our brothers' keepers now and should have been all along.

Take care of you and yours. If we all do that, then everyone will be cared for.

Breathing Into Balance

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I have a meeting scheduled today at 4:30. Do I go or "meet" online? Am I being overly cautious, giving into fear? Is it foolish to expose myself (and by connection, my family) to further contact? The answers to all of these questions are that I just don't know.

It's an important meeting, but is anything important enough to get into a room with people and increase the exposure of my family by four or five times? We're in the early stages of understanding this pandemic. Testing isn't widely available. My family, including my elderly mother, are healthy, and I'll do most anything to keep it that way. So, despite the meeting's importance, I'm unsure what to do.

This reminds me that balance is the most important thing on which I'll work over the next few weeks. It has been crucial all along, but is especially so now. I'm balancing the welfare of my family with the importance of the meeting, balancing the feeling of risk with the available science, balancing fear with courage and risk with safety.

I can't hold balance. I'm constantly falling out of it. That sounds bad, but I'm also always in the process of returning to balance. Two nights ago I couldn't sleep thinking all was lost. The next morning I saw the sunlight. Last night I slept well. This morning it's grey outside and in.

As for the meeting, everyone there is smart, thoughtful, and careful. All of us will wash hands before, stay six feet apart, and not shake hands. Maybe we will begin by acknowledging our concerns and the ways in which we feel out of balance. From there we can proceed.

Yesterday, worrying over all this, I stopped to watch my daughters outside, playing with the dog, doing a photo shoot. I saw people jogging and walking past the house. I sat next to my wife on the couch. I knew that my mother was only a phone call away. I took a deep breath and felt just that much more calm, cleansed, and dare I say balanced in that moment. Before I could worry that the moment would end, I took another breath, this time closing my eyes and trusting that I won't fall down.