Local Love

Let’s zip up across the border to the United States now and do a deep dive on how things are faring there. There’s a lot of good stuff and a lot of questionable stuff happening, both in terms of policies and initiatives as well as my state of mind. For reference (and a splash of color!), here it is:

Map of US

Personally, I have begun to notice that I hit a WALL around 3pm. And that’s when all the positivity and good cheer and we-got-this come crashing down. I have been observing this disaster-in-the-making for the past couple of days. And I think I have the data I need to try something new. Before I get all hyperventilated and claustrophobic and panicky and irritable I am attempting to catch myself spiraling down the wormhole and NO I am not going to stop myself or judge myself or tell myself I am a bad person or that I need to be tougher and just stick it out. Nope. I am going to call a Mommy time out and catch my breath. Alone in my room. For as long as I need. So far, I really only need 5 or 10 minutes. But the critical part is knowing you need to exit stage left, how to excuse yourself, and how far gone you are by the time you do so. That’s where I need practice.

I share this because I spend a lot of time looking on the bright side and trying to find the silver lining in everything. But I’d never want anyone to think that I don’t have a deep well of vulnerability and moments of hopelessness or anxiety or grief, too. We are all going through those moments now, probably more regularly than usual. The trick is to catch it and notice it and figure out how to take care of yourself amidst all of this, too.

For me, I have to laugh because I can hear in my mind my mom and my aunt telling me one of their favorite stories about me as a little girl. They would say, smiles on both of their faces, “It was Thanksgiving and we were all together in the house on Rural Lane. When you were a little girl, maybe 5 years old, you were sent to your room for something or other. About 20 minutes later you brought yourself back downstairs and announced, “I feel much better now.'” They would laugh and look at each other with dancing eyes, remembering what a precocious (and surely adorable and maybe nearly perfect – ha!) child I was and that moment together as they shared it with me.

What I recognize from that story is that I am the SAME EXACT PERSON now. I often don’t even need 20 minutes, but I DO need time just to myself and I always have. So, if no one is going to send me to my room, I am going to have to do it myself! And that knowledge of self and honoring it, my friends, is what will help us get through this with our sanity and relationships not only intact, but quite probably stronger. This is such good and important information about who we are and how we work.

TS Eliot quote 2
From Quote Fancy – https://quotefancy.com/

So that’s the state of my mind here. But you should also know about some really cool and beautiful projects happening in these parts:

Have you heard of the #frontstepsproject yet? Area photographers are going out into the world and capturing families (from 10 feet away) on their front porches. In exchange for the quick but professional family photo, the participants are encouraged to make a donation to their local food pantry. Not only does this mean that my Instagram and FB feeds are filling up with smiling family portraits – teenagers and all! – but it’s breaking down that sensation of isolation. Read more here!

Another really great initiative that was started in my neighborhood are Window Walks. Kids create artwork along a certain theme – last week was rainbows, this week hearts, and next week bears. As families take their daily walks to get some fresh air, this turns into a community scavenger hunt of sorts as kids delight in counting how many rainbows (hearts, or bears) they can find.

And how about WBUR’s Kind World newsletters? Or the effort to sew home-made face masks? And/or collect and deliver needed medical equipment (check out #getusPPE). Or about the letters children have written to elders confined to their assisted living homes at this time? Have you heard about that? What a wonderfully touching and human way to reach out to people who are the most vulnerable, most likely to be alone, and almost completely isolated.

Letter to elders

Once again, I implore you, to breathe. And wash your hands. And try to stick to a routine. And, if you have kids at home, talk to them about this experience, because we are ALL living it and wrestling with it in our own ways. Let their creativity lead your days. Sometimes.

Kindness and hope. Each gesture matters.

You will be all right. WE will be all right.

Stay well, stay home.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
-Emily Dickenson
Fear

Next Stop – GUATEMALA!

Guatemala MapTouching down in Guatemala City, you’ll be surprised to see how modern the airport is. I was expecting it to be really rugged since Guatemala is a “developing country,” but it’s not – the airport anyway.

Oh, look! A mariachi band is waiting for us! You can see the glimmering floors, the drop ceiling and recessed lighting, the very modern arrivals area in the below video.

We are going to have a real adventure and take a chicken bus to a more rural part of Guatemala, mostly because I just love saying chicken bus and because, well, look at it! Chicken Bus2The chicken bus is a retired yellow school bus that migrated from the United States to Guatemala where it was given new life and transformed with wild paint, flashing lights, and blaring music into a means of public transportation. Pile on. No number of passengers is too many for the chicken bus! Did you take your dramamine? It’s a long, windy route to get where we are headed.

Notice as we leave Guatemala City heading West toward Solola and Lake Atitlan all of the U.S. influence here. Papa Gino’s, Starbucks, and Domino’s abound.

Outside the dirty bus window, you can watch the stunning Guatemala countryside whiz by as we navigate the chaotic and crowded roads at an uncomfortable clip. The weather is perennially spring-time – 75 degrees or so during the day, generally sunny, and 50’s at night. The countryside is lush and verdant, the bright pinks and yellows of tropical flowers adorning the roadside even in the most barren places. In the distance, Volcan del Fuego perpetually puffs wisps of smoke into the air. The smells of cooking, wood burning, and exhaust permeate the air. There is rarely a moment of quiet between the honking cars, chirping birds, and barking dogs.

Everywhere you look you will see women in their traditional dress, the traje. The Mayan culture remains strong, despite the Spanish colonial and American influences. The cultural customs of modesty and honoring the ancestors remain guiding pillars of life here, especially in rural communities. Twenty-one (21) different Mayan languages are still the primary languages used in Guatemala’s Mayan communities.

Which is where we run headlong into an issue with the Coronavirus. This virus has the potential to be a crisis on an epic scale in developing countries like Guatemala. The health system here was already one of the weakest in the hemisphere. All of the government information – and it is abundant (Guatemala has closed its borders and has been incredibly restrictive and proactive about isolating the virus) – is in Spanish.

Most rural communities here are remote, have no internet access, do not speak Spanish, and typically do not read or write. Radio remains the primary form of communication. Which is why it’s all the more stunning and impressive to see the MAIA Impact School, based in Solola, immediately begin to assess where their skills and relationships can be most helpful and take proactive action. In this space of limited resources, MAIA leads with ingenuity and heart.

As a school for rural, poor, indigenous girls run by indigenous women, MAIA works with some of the most vulnerable populations in this part of the world. MAIA has worked hard to build relationships with families and to gain the trust of community councils in the region they serve. Family engagement is an enormous part of each student’s education (as this video shows).

As soon as Coronavirus began creeping its way across the world, MAIA realized it was uniquely positioned to assist the rural villages and address some of the issues that the they will face. The first thing they did was to quickly compile home school packets for all of the students. Without access to the internet, this pause in school could prove to be a major setback for learners who already had substantial obstacles in their way. These home school materials aim to keep the girls connected to their MAIA community and persevering through this pause on the path toward their educational goals.

The second initiative they undertook was to begin to address the major information gap facing rural villages. They created videos that translate the government’s Spanish information into the Mayan languages of the rural villages and posted those videos on MAIA’s social media pages. The videos quickly became the most viewed and shared content on their pages ever. You can watch them here. Better, though, for the state of our souls currently, are the bloopers. They exude humanity and love and light even if you don’t understand the words.

MAIA continues to explore ways to reach the rural villages, but also is trying to figure out how best to report out from the villages to media outlets. The plight of rural villages will be profoundly difficult and there is a real risk that it will go unnoticed since there is no movement in or out of these places.

As we move along in our virtual travels and in our individual worlds, in this moment of profound quiet, how can we be proactive? How are we each uniquely positioned to make a meaningful difference, now and going forward? What’s next when we get through this period of “new normal”? Back to normal? Is that good enough?

I am wondering how we can galvanize this moment of extreme slowing down and re-evaluating to shepherd in a new paradigm; how we can look to a future that does things differently, more equitably, a world that engages more people more completely. MAIA models a different way of doing things, and a respectful and bold approach to change. This is our collective moment to rise up, not only to get through this social isolation but to fundamentally change business as usual.

You will be all right. WE will be all right. And, in fact, we can be better.

Stay well, stay home.

I am currently reading Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies by Jared Diamond.

Specific reading to Guatemala:

Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide” – Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn

Silence on the Mountain: Stories of Terror, Betrayal, and Forgetting in Guatemala” – Daniel Wilkinson

The Art of Political Murder: Who Killed the Bishop?” – Francisco Goldman

A Beauty that Hurts: Life and Death in Guatemala” – W. George Lovell

When the Ground Turns in Its Sleep: This is a beautiful novel that will give you a sense of time, place, and history—all woven together into a compelling narrative that makes it endlessly readable.

Popol Vuh: The Mayan Book of The Dawn of Life and The Glories of Gods and Kings (Kindle Edition): If Maya history is your thing, then this is the definitive guide. It gives the backstory you need to fully enjoy the numerous Maya temples you’ll visit while traveling Central America.

A Forest of Kings: The Untold Story of the Ancient Maya: Descend into the Mayan culture throughout Mexico, Belize and Guatemala in this travel narrative that dives deep into the regional culture, ancient Mayan beliefs about time, as well as a look at modern Mayan culture.

Jungle of Stone: The True Story of Two Men, Their Extraordinary Journey, and the Discovery of the Lost Civilization of the Maya: A fascinating tale chronicling the two men who traveled through the Yucatán and Central America in search of the Maya Kingdom, and brought this ancient civilization back to the world.

 

 

Stealing the Show – in Spain

My son tells me that people usually stay two days on average in places they visit, that that’s a fact. I don’t know where he gets his info, but he’s a tween and he seems to know everything these days so I’ll go with it. Based on this sage advice, but erring on the side of that-seems-really-ambitious-because-no-one-will-be-fed-in-that-case, I will post a new location in our journey every three days until I run out of ideas or run out of steam. Follow my blog to have these little visits arrive directly into your email box.

I’ll warn you, fellow travelers, that when I travel I want to see it ALL (except if it involves a museum, in which I case I’ll wait for you outside unless it’s raining). I also do not travel in a linear fashion (that quote “all who wander are not lost” may or may not have been about me).

So, yep, while I excel at being efficient and organized, I also tend to be driven by my passion (and the cheapest plane fare). I can assure you that there are just a few places between Maui and Spain that require a stopover, but, for now, we just have to go to Spain because I have stories to share from there that just can’t wait. Everyone in between, if you have an empowering story that needs to be shared here, email it to me at misste259@gmail.com!

I have two stories from Spain and both fall into the category of “things are not always what they seem.” Such simple and beautiful displays of humanity.

First stop, Vigo, the largest fishing port in Europe and an industrial mainstay in the Spanish economy. It’s a city that’s a funny mix of industrial meets Roman architecture meets the seaside on the northwestern coast of Spain just north of Portugal.

An 80-something man named Hermann lives in Vigo. Here here is playing his harmonica from the window of his apartment. In the background you can hear voracious clapping. Is it for his music? I don’t want to spoil it. Watch and then read on…

View this post on Instagram

🎼 Hermann es octogenario y sufre alzheimer, pero no ha olvidado cómo tocar la armónica. Cuando la gente aplaude estos días a los sanitarios desde sus balcones, durante la cuarentena por el #coronavirus, él sale a tocar desde su ventana en Vigo y cree que todas esas personas le ovacionan. A esa sensación, la de sentir que está ante su público, él no ha llegado por una ocurrencia cualquiera. Se lo ha hecho creer así la persona que lo asiste, Tamara Sayar. “Pedazo concierto, eh, Hermann", "¿Ves? Te has puesto nervioso. Mucho público. Yo entiendo", le dice esta sanitaria en cada vídeo que graba de sus conciertos. Él sonríe, sigue soplando y al final bate sus propias palmas sobre la dulzaina, sumándose a la ovación. #covid_19 #covid19 #coronavirusespaña

A post shared by Agencia EFE (@efe_noticias) on

Quarantined in their homes, everywhere across Spain, every night at a designated time, people come to their windows or balconies and clap for the medical staff.

Imagine that. At the same time, all across the country, doctors and nurses are given a standing ovation. As they should be.

But where does Hermann fit in this? Hermann has Alzheimer’s, but has not forgotten how to play his harmonica. His caregiver says to him, “What a concert, Hermann! You got nervous. Such a big audience. I understand.”

Look at the delight on his face. I mean, what else is there to say? There is such beauty and love captured in this moment, both as we share this man’s wonder in his moment of stardom as well as the love of his caregiver, while on a national level we witness citizens come out in unison to honor the medical community. It leaves me speechless.

But, wait, that’s not all! We aren’t done here in Spain yet! Let’s jet way on over to the other side, sliding right off the eastern coast for a brief dip in the Mediterranean before we reach the island of Mallorca. The land here is mountainous, rocky, sandy, salty, and also stunningly beautiful. Plants and trees – and people – find ways to grow and thrive in the most surprising and challenging of places – and times. Olive groves abound. In the air is the faint smell of orange and lemon trees warming in the sun. Almonds are in bloom at this time of year, white flowers blossoming as far as the eye can see.

And on the streets, during this time of quarantine, the police are keeping an eye on things and making sure that everyone is safe and well:

In this case, the police came to entertain the children and cheer them up. That was not what I expected. And it warmed my heart.

This is a good time to remember how we sooth children when they have nightmares. We do not google the symptoms or entertain all the “what if” scenarios and fan the flames. Instead, we calm, we console, we give hugs, we reassure. That’s what we need to do for ourselves right now. All of us. Collectively. A big, compassionate hug. Because when you aren’t living a nightmare and stressing out completely, you can be strong and resilient, committed and compassionate. And that’s what we all need right now.

You will be all right. WE will be all right.

For books on or in Spain, you can always pick up Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls or The Sun Also Rises. Based on some of my Facebook feeds, I wonder if I would do well to recommend regional wines as well ;-).

See you next time…off to another Spanish-speaking country next, but this one a former colony. Hasta luego! Stay well, stay home.Bilingual versus an idiot

 

 

IN COMING – first stop, Maui!

Feel the warm sun on your face, a gentle, tropical breeze fanning your cheeks, playing with loose tendrils of your hair. Hear the ocean waves crashing against the shore, the tropical birds singing their exuberant songs. See the palm tree leaves slowly dancing in the breeze. Welcome to the Rainbow state. Life goes on in the natural world, unfazed. Take a big deep breath. Smell the salt air. Ahhh. AND – bonus -no jetlag! 

We find ourselves today at the Merwin Conservancy, a palm forest in Haiku, Maui. The forest is the embodiment of hope in the face if futility and death. In the late 1970’s, William S. Merwin, a Pulitzer Prize-winning U.S. Poet Laureate, came across a parcel of agricultural wasteland in the small valley of Pe‘ahi Stream. The soil here was decimated and eroded by a failed pineapple plantation. Merwin and his wife, Paula, set about a nearly 40-year journey to give back to the land, cultivating seedling-by-seedling and tree-by-tree a lush botanical garden, transforming a once-barren space into one of the largest and most extensive private collections of palm trees in the entire world (adapted from the Merwin Conservancy website).

The Conservancy’s Executive Director, Sonnet Coggins, wrote last week that “We are in the garden this morning, finding and keeping stillness as turmoil swirls around the globe. I am coming to understand our current moment of uncertainty and isolation as an invitation. We are lifted out of our daily routines, maybe our ruts, and invited into a place where imaginations awaken. It brings me to a deeper understanding of the way William lived his life—always fully awake to the world around him, honoring its possibilities through daily actions and practices.

Today we will read, walk, and remember William and Paula among the palms, and will imagine that many of you are doing the same, in places that are dear to you.”

In order to fully immerse yourself in this place, watch the one-minute video of Merwin reading his poem Rain Light in his Maui garden. “my mother said I am going now, when you are alone you will be alright…even though the whole world is burning” 

You will be alright.

Find your stillness. Dive into simplicity and quiet. Read and walk among the natural spaces in your area, and really notice what’s going on around you. Make space for yourself, for all of your feelings, and honor them. Turn this moment over, slowly, in your mind. Consider it fully from all sides, and see what it may have to teach. It is through silence, reflection, and adversity that we learn the greatest lessons. It is our time to rise up; it is our time to stay home. This is where we must be and what we must do for now.

Be strong, be resourceful, be wise, be resilient. You will be alright.

Time to Put On Our Rally Caps!

I am overwhelmed. I am going to put that straight out in front. This is one helluva time and I think I have experienced every emotion under the sun (or rain) in the past 9 days. Has it been 9 days? Who knows. What day is it? Does it really matter?

Let’s start where we should all be starting, especially these days: with a big deep breath.

BreatheAlways, always start here. Breathe.

Cherish every single deep, easy breath you have. I notice and value those long, slow exhales and rejuvenating inhales now more than ever. Breathing deep and clear is a gift. Enjoy every single one.

Another gift: how much the notion of putting your own oxygen mask on first resonates in this moment. I certainly pray that no one needs an actual oxygen mask anytime soon, but also hope that this metaphorical one will provide sustenance and inspiration during these uncertain times. OlafTune in when you need hope, solidarity, or just something to do! I am no FDR, but hopefully you’ll find reassurance in this modern day fireside chat and Olaf-like warm (virtual) hug.

As I was saying, this last week was something else. I found myself embracing the moment (or trying to) while grieving for the sudden rupture in our lives. One moment I was riding the tide of enthusiasm and I-can-do-this, the next I was crashing headlong into I-am-not-a-circus-performer and I need some serious me-time. I am despondent over the impact on the economy, small businesses and those who are financially insecure or otherwise vulnerable. I have dug myself emotionally into a hole and climbed back out again, struggling at times, on multiple occasions. I have reckoned with my mortality and what we need to do to get our affairs in order – just in case – while attempting to keep my kids content, reassured, and in some semblance of a routine. Did I mention me-time? I don’t understand quite how it happened, but while I go nowhere I simultaneously have less time and way more to do.

What I have learned, once again and in spades, is that I cannot be all things to all people all the time. First and foremost in this current iteration of life, I am not a teacher, and certainly not of math. All hail teachers! I’ve always wondered how they do it, and daily I accept more fully that it’s a calling and it’s not mine. But I totally get this equation, and this is what I really want to talk about:

Anxiety = Uncertainty * Powerlessness

My intrepid and wise friend, Nicole, of Sailor’s Sweet Life, shared that with me and encouraged me to find ways to empower myself to combat that sense of powerlessness.

As I go about my days here, cleaning and cooking and doing obscene amounts of laundry and dishes and teaching and loving and trying to work and wanting to write and also wanting to run away (flee instinct firmly intact), I have been reflecting on that notion of empowerment and what empowers me. And I realized that I feel most empowered when I am engaging with and learning about other people and how they see and experience life. If I have a calling, connecting with people from all over the world and then connecting them to each other is possibly it. I love to discover what makes us similar, how we are different, to hear their stories and learn more about their lives.

In this odd moment in history, we are all connected perhaps more than ever. And we are all existing and navigating this moment in our own ways, with our own perspectives. Never has the broader world been so inaccessible yet so connected. Instead of feeling grounded and trapped, I have decided to embark on an adventure of connection and imagination.

So, fasten your seat belts and put your tray table up because we are going to travel together, virtually, all around the globe. My upcoming blog posts will feature the brilliant, simple, proactive, compassionate, empowering acts of humanity, humility, kindness, beauty, and wonder that I have seen unfolding during this unusual and uncertain time. I’ll try to tie our travels to a good book recommendation related to that destination, as reading is one of life’s simplest and most wonderful of pleasures (IMO!). Please share with me stories from your corner of the world, too!

And, remember, in an emergency oxygen masks will automatically drop down from the overhead compartment. To start the flow of oxygen, take a deep breath and then continue to breathe normally. Although nothing really changes, oxygen is flowing and you will feel so much better. If you are travelling with a child or someone who requires assistance, secure your mask first, and then assist the other person.

And we are off! Next stop: MAUI and the Merwin Conservancy! Pack Moloka’i by Alan Brennert for this journey. Or The Folding Cliffs by The Merwin Conservancy’s W.S. Merwin himself!

Molokai Map

This is our hour to rise up. This is the time to love our neighbors as ourselves (from a safe distance). We need to act, as one – now – to save lives and to avoid totally preventable loss and suffering. Never before has it been possible to do so much for so many with the simple act of staying home. It’s simple, and it’s also so hard. I get that. But it’s completely necessary. Let’s do this. Rally! Rally! Rally #flattenthecurve #stayhome #cometravel(virtually)withme #putyourownoxygenmaskonfirst #whatsparksjoyismysanity #permissiontobehuman

 

 

 

Home School/Survival Resources

Hi everyone,

Just a quick note to all to say chin up, breathe deep, and stay well! I have put together a curated list of resources on both COVID-19, should you care to read more, and, even BETTER, on websites for keeping kids busy and engaged as we work through this tumultuous time. Check it out on my Resources page by clicking this link.

Be well and stick together (at least 6 feet apart). There is great irony in isolated solidarity. And in Guatemala closing it’s borders to the U.S. And in the fact that I never leave my house yet still can’t seem to get anything done.

Try to laugh. It’s nothing short of a weird, weird time. Let’s hope that unlike the French existentialist writers and filmmakers our current existential existence actually comes to some sort of conclusion. Gosh, how I detest the existentialist’s unwillingness to wrap up a story. Now to be tested. Maybe they knew more about reality than my proclivity for happy endings and no loose strings could fathom.

More to come. Together – and only together – will we rise beyond this.

Meg

My Job vs not my job

 

Don’t Freak Out. But Also, Don’t Be Cavalier: A Corona Survival Guide

I AM the vulnerable. You wouldn’t guess it to see me bouncing around on a daily basis in my Energizer Bunny way, but it’s true. I am a healthy, young (ish!), active mom, daughter, wife, sister, friend, employee, and athlete. But I also have an autoimmune disease.

Whenever you are washing your hands extra carefully or extra often, considering whether or not to cancel or attend a big event, wondering if this is all overblown, it’s not just the elderly or some hypothetical distant someone that you are protecting. It’s also people like me, the mom who lives just around the corner, who volunteers at the school, who you see cheering at the sporting events. There are more of us than you might realize, and this is a good time for everyone to understand that. Not because we need your sympathy or pity. But because we need your solidarity. Because the reason I can be an active, healthy mom and athlete is the boat load of immuno-suppressant drugs I take. I am in my 40’s but for over a decade this has been my norm:

RA Meds

You know when they review your medications when you go to the doctor? We run through my lengthy list every time and the conversation nearly always ends with the nurse saying, “Anything else?” and me responding, “Isn’t that enough?” I mean, for real. Don’t even get me started about how many doctors appointments I have in a year or how much I pay annually in co-pays for medication even though I have health insurance. That’s for another time.

For now, I am here to tell you that immuno-compromised people worry every year about the flu and infection in general. And every year I dutifully get my flu shot, as does my family, mainly to protect me. And then we go about our lives like normal. Similarly, when I went to Guatemala last fall, before I left I had to think through carefully with my physicians the potential implications of my immuno-compromised state. I got 4 vaccines and filled 2 prescriptions for antibiotics to bring with me in case I got sick while there. No one else I was traveling with needed anything. But I went (and, incidentally, I loved it!). I live my life knowing I am generally at higher risk than others, aware of the implications of both my disease and my medications, but I choose to keep on stretching and living.

I say all this so you understand my reality. It’s a reality I have mostly accepted. I live a pretty normal life, and I am grateful for that. I have learned to work with the cards I have been dealt.

In light of all that, I have been taking this Coronavirus, I think, pretty well overall. I am aware of what’s happening, but have been measured in my response. I have not been panicking or buying shelves-worth of Purel. I did not completely stop socializing or obsess over every new headline. My heart beats at a fairly normal rate, day in and day out.

But early this week my doctors advised me, for now, not be on a cruise boat, a commercial airline, in a crowd, or to have visitors who have flown recently. They are taking this seriously and, in turn, so should I.

I’ll admit that my blood pressure and heart rate increased rapidly during that doctor’s visit, as the realization of the seriousness of the situation and my vulnerability to it dawned on me more fully. While my vital signs returned to normal shortly after, it took me a while to notice that I have spent the last couple of days feeling like I am already sick. By that, I mean, that I started to think more like an incident commander, to go into prevention and protection mode, to dwell more on the news. I have been lethargic and blue, unfocused and distracted, my head spinning with headlines and what if scenarios fast-tracking through my mind. Basically I forgot to live.

And then I caught myself. I woke up and realized this is going to be a marathon and I cannot exhaust myself in the first couple of miles. It also occured to me that I could be an excellent fiction writer because I am constantly making up narratives that just are not true! It’s called anxiety. And instead of allowing my anxiety to come along for the ride, I let it drive for the last couple of days. I started contacting puppy breeders so I won’t be alone in my isolation, for goodness sake. This is not rational behavior (though it was a lovely divergence). Puppies for everyone!

Don’t you feel better already?

In all seriousness, I suspect – I KNOW – that I am not alone. Anxiety buttons are being pushed the world over. The illusion that we have control in this life has been de-masked. We never did have control, folks, but now we can’t even pretend. So we control what we can: we buy all the Purel on the shelves and we read the news ad nauseum and we perseverate over what to do. But we have no more control over this after all that than we did before. Really. We can prepare, but we also need to make room to sit with this uncertainty and acknowledge it. And, then, deal with the cards we have been dealt. This is how I plan to do that:

  1. Seriously, wash your hands and wash them well (how to video here);
  2. Don’t freak out – it doesn’t move the needle one bit to do so. Take a deep breath, or, better, a couple (try 5 deep breaths every hour). Sit with the discomfort. This is a great time to get really good at accepting that we can’t hide or fix or control everything (or, really, anything). Sometimes the best thing to do is to acknowledge that and sit with it. Meditation is a good way to do that. But so is taking a deep breath and recognizing anxiety for what it is and not letting it drive.
  3. Limit yourself to checking social media and the news only once or twice a day; trust me, if something really important happens in the interim, you will get the deluge of texts and phone calls or see the helicopters overhead that will clue you in that something happened. Otherwise, it’s just an anxiety mob feeding on itself.
  4. This virus is clearly an equal opportunity event – anyone is as likely to get it as anyone else. Don’t be a racist or an asshole or a racist asshole and make negative assumptions about people. This is good advice in general. But, in particular, Chinese food, Corona beer, Chinese people, and immigrants of any stripe have nothing to do with whether or not you are going to get sick. So chill and show some humanity and compassion.
  5. Speaking of racism, take a minute to consider how devastating this virus could be – WILL BE – in places without strong medical facilities and protocols.
  6. Speaking of racism two – there is a massive locust swarm happening across parts of Asia and Africa right now. Thousands (possibly millions) of people WILL die from starvation as a result of this, and ever more will emigrate toward Europe in an attempt to save themselves. Have you read anything at all about it? Because a ton of human beings are dying already and it ain’t from the coronavirus.  Locust Swarms Put Millions at Risk Across Asia and Africa; Hundreds of Billions of Locusts Swarm Across East Africa
  7. There are great lessons we can learn from this – for starters, we are all living creatures, human beings of all colors and types, and we are all a little anxious and concerned about ourselves and our loved ones. Compassion, kindness, and caring for and about something bigger than ourselves are values we should espouse ALL THE TIME, not just in times of crisis; but now is a great time to up the ante.
  8. Words matter and so does your mindset. For example, use the word distancing instead of isolating; I kept saying I was isolated and it made me want to buy a puppy; distancing is less weighty.
  9. All of us are in this together, and many are uncomfortable about the situation. Hold that worry, concern, fear, sadness in the light and honor it.
  10. Maybe try just half a cupcake instead of eating the whole thing when you feel the need for comfort. I’m not going to tell you that I ain’t been panic eating. Sugar is still bad for you, but I am not going to judge.
  11. Consider the greater impacts of your actions – this is a good idea in general, but specifically now. It’s not all about you, nor should it be.
  12. For now. For now is a great phrase. Because difficult things are easier to bear when there is a perceived finiteness to them. For now gives the sense that things are temporary. And, it’s true, we will learn more about COVID-19 and eventually this crisis will be in the past. We need to take it seriously NOW, for now, and we need to show compassion and urgency to get there without too many lost lives along the way.
  13. If you or your kid is sick, own it. Don’t pretend that Motrin or Tylenol masking the symptoms is a reasonable choice for carrying on with your day. Sending sick kids to school or going to work sick isn’t a good idea under normal circumstances. It is a very bad idea right now. I get that work beckons, but, damn, that’s just wrong on so many levels.
  14. Don’t buy a puppy or any other living creature on a whim. Also good advice beyond a pandemic.
  15. Seriously, wash your hands.

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Drink Coffee
This has literally nothing to do with anything but it makes me smile