Oxygen Mask Moments – Page 4 – Put Your Own Oxygen Mask on First

It’s a Dog’s Life: Lessons from My Dog Part II (Heel!!! Or Heal?)

January 19, 2021April 17, 2022Meg

My dog is okay now. He is back to bouncing around the backyard like a pinball and leaping and jumping for joy. We went to the vet 5 or 6 times during his convalescence for various issues that arose. He received stiches, two courses of antibiotics, two pain medications maxxed to the highest doses allowable, and laid low wearing the cone of shame for two weeks. It was ruff. But he has healed. Physically. Mentally, the jury is still out.

After the attack, I knew he would have some trauma and anxiety to work through. What I didn’t expect is that I may be in worse shape! And I have been noticing that I am prone to avoiding dealing with it. As in, in general, avoiding things that make me uncomfortable. In this case, I attempt to avoid other dogs like the plague. My dog? He just barks his head off. Meanwhile, I am cringing and telling him in the not-so-gentlest of tones to stop it. Stop it. STOP IT. Why must he call more attention to us?

I started working with a dog trainer to help get us through this period. I called her in to help me get his barking under control. We have spent a lot of time working on “heel,” helping him to understand that his job is to stay focused on my leg and to follow me wherever I might lead. He doesn’t need to worry about the dog up the path or the squirrel in the bushes. Just focus on my leg and let me lead.

For my part, I need to be a competent leader. As we walk, the trainer honestly spends more time working on me than my dog. She tells me, “Relax. Loosen your grip on the leash. Stand up tall. Breathe.” And she keeps saying it. Over and over again. I can’t be cowering in the corner and high tailing it in the opposite direction every time I see another dog and expecting my dog to “just relax.” I recognize now that it doesn’t exactly set the right tone when I see a dog up the trail and say, “Oh, God. Here comes another dog.” At first I didn’t even consciously hear myself saying it. But even if that message wasn’t said outloud – which it has been – it was definitely the energy I was presenting with. Everything out there for a while felt like a threat. And whatever I feel translates right down the leash to my poor pup, who is looking for reassurance from me.

These days, we actively seek out other dogs on our walks so we can practice. I would have preferred to stay in the backyard or choose a quiet, untrod path. My favorite walks, by far, remain those when we run into no one. The dog trainer tells me I need to breathe and relax and face it.

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I’ve heard these messages before. I’ve practiced a lot with facing my fears. I see a therapist every few weeks, I’ve taken meditation classes, listened to podcasts. And I keep forgetting. Or, more, I am who I am and I go back to my basic instincts. And, then, THEN, all the work kicks in and I notice the feelings and the narrative. And that means I can pull it back. Then I remember that I have to face into the fire to extinguish it, not run the other way. Pema Chodron explains it so well in her talk “Getting Unstuck: Fear and Fearlessness.” Writing this post was a great reminder to watch it again. “It’s a process of being here all along, not just when we like how it’s going. Instead of that making you more self-absorbed, it makes you very decent, very sane, and very open to the world and other people.”

Every time I hear myself say “heel” to my dog, in my mind I think “heal.”

Life keeps on giving us opportunity to practice. Keep facing into it and keep going.

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How Social Distancing Is Like Quitting Sugar

January 2, 2021April 17, 2022Meg

The truth is, I’ve been trying to write for weeks. I have literally 10 drafts going, some with a couple notes jotted, some full-fledged-almost-there-posts. I had high hopes and great intentions of writing some reflections on 2020 well before the new year, but here we are.

I have been stuck. I guess it’s a form of writer’s block, though I have plenty ideas. It’s been a rough patch, for sure. Maybe this is normal for a writer. It certainly is for life, right!?!

This holiday season brought along with it some big, sometimes crippling, feelings. The holidays will do that in a good year, like last year when the day before Thanksgiving I opened a cardboard box my brother had delivered from our mom’s apartment. Within the thick layers of tacky tape and the fortress of dusty bubble wrap I discovered our mom’s China plates and was promptly steamrollered by memories and emotion. I set the Thanksgiving table with them, a heaping of nostalgia to go with my mashed potatoes.

This year, there was all of that type of longing and loss coupled with the fatigue brought on by merely existing in this quarantine/social distance world. Somewhere along the way this year something broke inside me, like I left too many documents open on my desktop and it caused a short circuit. But it happened more slowly than a computer crashing, more like the chiseling away of stone into a statue. The result, in this case, isn’t beautiful, though, so maybe it’s more like when weather eroded the Old Man of the Mountain for so long that the face finally fell off one day. Yep, that’s about right. Every morning I peel my eyes open, claw my way out of fitful sleep, and flop myself off the side of the bed to standing. It is no joyful greeting to the day, I can assure you. Slowly, I coax myself out of my pajamas into “real clothes,” a ridiculously laborious effort executed primarily to prevent myself from getting salt and snow all over my favorite pajamas while walking the dog.

Old Man in the Mountain with Overlay of Fallen Face

That is generally the state of things here. I army crawled my way through the molasses swamp of holiday decorating and gift-buying. I banged out an apple pie for Thanksgiving the day after the actual meal was supposed to occur. I ordered my holiday cards in October because I had no clue what month it was and they were 75% off – and, honestly, I could have written them in April and said approximately the same thing.

When 2020 rolled around, I didn’t have any big expectations or thoughts for what it might hold. I never do resolutions or goals for New Year’s Eve. It feels so arbitrary. If you need to push the reset button, New Years is as good a time as any to do so. But resets are possible all year long. Never let the date on your calendar stop you from shifting your mindset, reframing and seeing the world in new ways, being flexible, pivoting, and starting fresh. I did like the look of 2020, though. It was so nice and symmetrical. Much less clunky than 2019. Not that, as we all clearly now know if we ever wondered before, the beauty of the date has anything at all to do with anything.

And somehow we find ourselves at January 1, 2021. 1/1/21. Now that it’s taken me so long to finish this post, even better we arrive at 1/2/21. Every year has its challenges, but no one could have predicted the global scale of 2020’s plight. It’s been a difficult year and there have been some truly wonderous moments, many that I would have missed if I was not forced to live slow and small. Among other things, I learned that I cannot focus or develop any substantive thoughts while staring at a computer screen of rotating faces staring back at me, and also that Zoom is a miraculous way to get back in touch with friends and family scattered across the country and the world. I learned that I would love to have a personal chef if I could afford one, and also that I will do whatever it takes to feed my family tasty, healthy meals because I love them (and even to recreate favorites like Auntie Anne’s pretzels, dumplings, pizza, and sesame chicken when takeout was not an option). I learned that I love exploring and learning about the world and that claustrophobia sets in when my wings are clipped and also that there is amazing stuff happening in my own backyard like Great Horned Owls hooting and the timeless joy of good old-fashioned sparklers and small, quiet holiday gatherings serving up an introvert’s dream. It’s been a year of being depressed and broken brained and inspired and awe-struck.

You know when you stop eating sugar and all of a sudden all the other food you eat tastes so much better, like your taste buds have been reactivated? This year was kind of like that, but instead of quitting sugar (which I most assuredly did NOT!) I quit rushing around and commitments and shoulds and going places. Once I adjusted to the sensory deprivation, the little moments closer to home suddenly became sweeter. Do I crave traveling and other people and Olaf-esque warm hugs? Hell, yes! Do I wish that this period was over and that it hadn’t dragged on for so long in the first place with the completely unnecessary and on-going loss of life and health? Of course.

But this year I learned that I can do hard things for as long as necessary to benefit the greater good. I might not like it, but I can do it. I always hoped that would be the case, but this year was the proving ground. And just like when I have quit sugar in the past, and became more aware of what parts of eating sugar do me no favors and what parts of quitting sugar completely suck the very joy out of life, I will take from this fraught period the same kind of awareness about life. There are lessons from this period that I will abide forever. That’s the hope, anyway.

It’s great to have hope at the dawn of a new year. It’s necessary to source it from within whenever one is challenged. Onward.

My Brain is Broken. Is Yours too?

December 1, 2020April 17, 2022Meg

Guest Post by Laura Gassner Otting

My brain is broken.

And yours might be, too.

For the last couple of weeks, my teammates and I have gotten together in my open garage, with our rowing machines spaced six feet apart, to do our regular morning workouts, just as we’ve been doing since the pandemic began. But over the past few weeks, something strange began to happen. Each day, from one moment to the next, I have been unable to remember the workouts, or unable to keep in my head how many minutes of rest between sets, or do the math about how long the whole workout will take.

The workouts are not complicated, and they aren’t different from what we’ve been doing for years.

But my brain is broken.

A friend, lamenting about missing travel, recently asked a question, “What was the last trip you took?”

I couldn’t remember that February client trip. But you know what I did remember? The March vacation that the pandemic cancelled. My brain conveniently forgot what I had, and focused only on what I’d lost.

My memory is failing me.

The last time I experienced this was when the bombs went off at the Boston Marathon in 2013. Once we were finally able to get home from the course, because we didn’t know what the next few days would hold, I went to the bank to withdraw some cash, just to have it on hand. I put my card into the ATM, and then hovered over the pin keypad. My mind was blank. I tried to think of the numbers, I tried to think of the finger movements, I tried to take the card out and start again, but the grey matter on which the memory sat had gone black.

I tried for weeks to go back, and after a month gave up. I walked into the bank and asked the teller for the number, which she handed to me. It was entirely foreign. I asked if she had reset it. She said, “No, this was the number automatically set when you opened the account ten years ago.”

I’d had the same number for ten years. And it didn’t even look familiar when she handed it to me.

Why do I tell you these stories?

Because the workout numbers were not set by me. The PIN number was not set by me. The client trip was not set by me. None of these things had as permanent of purchase in my mind as the things I set myself.

Just like the marathon bombing inserted trauma into my brain, instantaneously fragmenting formerly organized bits into chaotic shrapnel, this pandemic has provided a slow motion replay, burrowing mole holes that leak at a sludge-like pace information which once easily found purchase.

Wait, many cloves of garlic did that recipe demand? What time am I supposed to pick up the kids? Am I adding these expenses correctly?

Also, I seem to have forgotten my PIN number again. And also the code to my own garage.

My brain is hurting.

This pandemic has been going on for seven months, and we are only halfway through it. The numbers are surging. The headlines are foreboding. The election is unending. And winter is coming.

Maybe you recognize yourself in this post. If you do, I see you, I feel you, I am you. Know that you are not alone. I don’t have any solutions other than what we already know: wear a mask, keep your distance, wash your hands. We will get through it, and we will get through it together. The fact is: there is no other way.

And, me? I’m going to try to focus more on what I have than what I’ve lost. That burden has proven too heavy for me and I can no longer bear its weight.

I am choosing to put it down.

And, I invite you to do the same.

Re-posted with permission from Laura Gassner Otting, author of the Washington Post bestseller, Limitless: How to Ignore Everybody, Carve Your Own Path, and Live Your Best Life.

My Daily Attestation

October 24, 2020April 17, 2022Meg

Does anyone else have to fill out myriad attestations on multiple different apps or websites for most, but not all, of their kids’ daily activities? It’s blowing my mind trying to keep track of these attestations and health checks and the remote/in-school schedules. I barely know what day it is let alone which kid is in school on this particular day versus at home learning. On top of that, somehow, we have adjusted to this pandemic time enough to have refilled our schedules with extracurricular activities and social engagements (distanced, of course). It’s like old times except amplified by masks and zooms and everything taking longer than it used to and requiring way more thought to pull off than before as well as this underlying sense of being perpetually slightly off balance. I set alarms for myself all day long so I don’t forget to show up for something or pick a kid up or pack a lunchbox or who even knows what I might (not) do next without cueing.

Along with all of this comes a lot, including a lot of feelings. My personal daily attestation looks something like this:

Do you have to check a calendar regularly to know what day or month it is? Yes or No

Do you know what year it is? Yes or No

Are you exceptionally exhausted for no clear reason? Yes or No

Do you live with a perpetual sense of foreboding? Yes or No

Are you overwhelmed or fighting feelings of sadness and malaise? Yes or No

Does socializing wear you out, almost like you are out of shape? Yes or No

When looking at old photographs, do you wonder if they occurred during this same lifetime? Yes or No

Do you cringe when people get too close together in a movie before remembering that we used to be able to do that? Yes or No

Do some days seem to go on forever, with no sense of time? Yes or No

Do series of days evaporate into an abyss of nothingness before your very eyes? Yes or No

Does the smallest thing sometimes suddenly push you right over the edge? Yes or No

If you answered yes to three or more of these questions, it is NOT safe to carry on with your day. You are experiencing pandemic fatigue and are on the verge of meltdown (check out The Art of the Pandemic Meltdown for another take on this phenomena). Stop before you go any further, breathe, and check in with ALL OF THE FEELINGS.

For me, I have begun to notice – through a lot of work and reflection – that my response to any stress or uncertainty takes a pretty reliable and predictable course. It didn’t appear to be consistent, just horribly uncomfortable and upsetting, until I really started to pay attention. Now, I know that I am just going through my paces when that unsettled, yucky feeling starts between my stomach and diaphragm, right below my rib cage. No matter the stimulus, the trajectory is pretty much the same: adrenaline rush (fight or flight), go blank (temporarily), shake (literally), develop ache in pit of stomach, annoyance (why do I have to deal with X? = is this a good time to flee?), self-doubt (what did I do to cause X?/maybe (probably) I said something, did something, am something wrong), negative self-talk (why do you always react like this? if only you were X, you wouldn’t feel this way; every version of should have, could have, would have, and, then: just stop feeling like this), sleeplessness (more adrenaline), and, wait a second, I have seen this all before, I don’t like it and I don’t like how it feels but I know that eventually I will get to the other side (resilience and fight). And then I sit with whatever it is and I deal with it, be it a leak in the basement, a too windy day and swaying trees, a sick child, a dog attack, a public presentation, basically any sort of discord, or a global pandemic. All the same. And, fundamentally, underlying each of them, is the fact that something or everything about them is out of my control. And out of my control stokes anxiety. And the sooner I identify that, the sooner we all identify all these feelings and understand them for what they are, the better off we will all be. It still disappoints me to realize that knowing all this doesn’t make the feelings go away or stop them from coming the next time. But now I recognize what is happening so I go through my paces more efficiently and get to that more calm place faster. And that’s called resilience. And that’s how we make it through tough stuff, time and time again.

I invite you, as I invite myself, to welcome in all of the feelings, just as Rumi writes in the poem The Guest House. This is what putting your own oxygen mask on first is all about. You have to take good care of yourself – and that means noticing and allowing ALL OF THE FEELINGS to cycle their way through – before you can take good care of others.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house
Every morning a new arrival
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
Some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture.
Still treat each guest honorably.
He may be cleaning you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice
meet them at the door laughing
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
– Rumi

You will be alright

We are the solution

Put your own oxygen mask on first!

WEAR A MASK!!!!

We got this.

A Plea and a Prayer for the Voiceless and Vulnerable

May 28, 2020April 17, 2022Meg

Where do I even start? I am rendered speechless by some of what I see happening in the world right now. And not speechless in a good way.

I understand rationally that anger stems from fear, powerlessness, and uncertainty, which we have in spades currently. So I get to some degree that what we are seeing with regards to the virus, opening plans, and people flouting the very simple protocols for keeping everyone safe from wearing masks to maintaining their distance are symptomatic of that. I recently read an article from Psychology Today, in fact, entitled What Your Anger May Be Hiding that explains anger very rationally. Did you know that when someone is angry the brain releases a chemical that stimulates a numbing sensation while establishing a sense of security and control over a situation? I did not, but it explains so much.

I guess I thought and hoped we were more evolved than that and that we could recognize anger for what it is and modify our behavior. Clearly not. And that’s disappointing. Most disappointing of all is how there appears to be a cultural disregard for the most vulnerable people among us currently. If I hear one more time, “oh, yea, a lot of people have died but most of them were old” I am going to explode. WTF kind of attitude is that? Damn.

“What young people didn’t know, she thought, lying down beside this man, his hand on her shoulder, her arm; oh, what young people did not know. They did not know that lumpy, aged, and wrinkled bodies were as needy as their own young, firm ones, that love was not to be tossed away carelessly, as if it were a tart on a platter with others that got passed around again. No, if love was available, one chose it, or didn’t choose it. And if her platter had been full with the goodness of Henry and she had found it burdensome, had flicked it off crumbs at a time, it was because she had not known what one should know: that day after day was unconsciously squandered.” from Olive Kitteridge, by Elizabeth Strout

Anyway, I am rambling. I felt like I needed to acknowledge that because it’s been bugging me and making me sad. But I don’t want to focus on it. What I want to do is to say a prayer for the voiceless and vulnerable, for the elderly, our elders; for those with Alzheimer’s and dementia; for those in care homes; for those with other health vulnerabilities; for those in places like rural Guatemala and rural Madagascar and so many other places in the world (including the inner city and parts of rural America) that are disconnected from the regular news cycle so we don’t hear their plight – both because they don’t have a platform to tell it and because no one is listening. Amidst all the quiet of this time, it’s remarkable the cacophony we humans can stir up to distract ourselves and still not LISTEN.

I don’t want to dwell on this. I want to focus on the good stuff, the stories of hope and kindness where you would least expect to find them! It’s my whole mission here and really this is the stuff of grace and humanity that needs to be celebrated and shouted from the rooftops!

In today’s episode, we have video footage of Girl Pioneers from the MAIA Impact School reporting from their homes in rural Guatemala on what life is like in quarantine for them, thanks to donated devices that have been distributed to the students and the MAIA Impact School’s on-going work to give these girls and their families a platform from which to be heard and seen.

You can read more about the students, their lives, and MAIA’s response to COVID @ https://www.maiaimpact.org/maias-response-covid19

More to come!

Each day is a blessing in whatever form it comes – don’t squander it!

Stay well, stay home.

You will be alright.

The Time of Quiet

May 15, 2020April 17, 2022Meg

I’ve gone quiet suddenly, here in the blogosphere anyway. It’s like I returned from a long trip and suddenly I was very, very tired. And I had endless mountains of laundry to do. Apparently our virtual world tour has come to an end. I just fizzled one day. For once, I let myself get lost in that with no apologies. If I can’t learn to be in the moment, in THIS moment, now; to face into the fire and not turn away to avoid it, now; to source my strength from within, now, then when will I ever?

It’s often said that it takes 66 days to create a new habit. Today is, in fact, day 66. What new habits have you made? Which will you keep going forward?

Me? I hope to hold onto this conscientious quiet because I cherish the simplicity and peace that comes with it. In my typical suburban existence, I crave calm and quiet, and now I see clearly that so much busyness is self-created. I do like to be busy, but there’s busy and then there’s manic. It’s really refreshing for life to be so plodding that my whirring around checking boxes off my never-ending to-do list eventually has to stop and for once I just sit down and think. Or breathe. Remember that one? I always forget. But now I’ve had 66 days of practice so who knows what the future holds?!? Have you ever seen the short Warren Buffet and Bill Gates clip Busy is the New Stupid? Well, there you are.

I also hope some of my meal plan-ahead skills will endure (but mostly I really want take -out). And I imagine I will never stop washing my hands as well as I do now. Remember that the “new normal” isn’t normal. And it isn’t forever, either, incidentally.

In The Time of Quiet

No one’s told the daffodils about the pause to Spring
And no one’s told the birds to roost and asked them not to sing
No one’s asked the lazy bee to cease his bumbling round
And no one’s stopped the bright green shoots emerging through the ground
No one’s told the sap to rest, deep within the wood
And stop the sleepy trees from waking, wreathed about in bud
No one’s told the sky to douse its brightest shades of blue
And stop the scudding clouds from puffing headlong into view
No one’s asked the lambs to still the springs beneath their feet,
To stop their rapid rush and quell each joyful bleat
No one’s told the stream to halt its gurgle or its flow
And warned the playful breezes, not to gust and blow
No one’s asked the raindrops not to fall upon the earth
And fail to quench the soil in the season of rebirth
No one’s locked the sun down, or dimmed the shimmer of the moon
And even in the darkest night, the stars are still immune
Remember what you value, remember who is dear
Close the doors to danger and keep your family near
In the quiet all around us take the time to sit and stare
And wonder at the glory unfurling everywhere
Look towards the future, after the ordeal
And keep faith in Mother Nature’s power & will to heal.

I have seen this beautiful poem attributed to Pablo Neruda, a Nobel Prize-winning Chilean poet and diplomat. But a little hunt of the world wide web revealed that it was actually written by Philippa Atkin and posted on her blog March 27, 2020.

Pablo Neruda’s poem, also beautiful, is called Keeping Quiet. I am not exactly sure when it was written, but Neruda died in 1973 so we can be sure that he did not predict the internet age taking us over, our addiction to screens or busyness, and certainly not a global pandemic. It is also remarkably appropriate for today :

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

Stay well, stay home.

You will be alright.

Staying Put

April 5, 2020April 17, 2022Meg

To be fair, the U.S. is so big there’s no way I could get to all the stories in one little post. So, here’s more!

First, I finally finished my puzzle. So yeah! Small victories.

Second, the suddenly open access to culture and museums and places and worlds that were previously held at a distance to us mere mortals is one of the silver linings of this challenging time. Within days of our outer worlds shutting down, cultural opportunities proliferated.

Thanks to this, ummm, situation I went to my first opera at the MET. They have been allowing free streaming of their Live in HD performances. I have always been curious about this esteemed cultural institution, so this was an exciting opportunity to check out what it’s all about. Truth? Opera isn’t for me. But even an unsophisticated observer like me can appreciate the costumes, the voice ranges, and the talent required to combine singing like that with acting.

More up my alley, the Indigo Girls played a live show that we could all stream in our living rooms. And there were tears in my living room, I can tell you. It was such an unexpected portal into the broader world. Hearing the Indigo Girls transported me right out of here and now and into the past with a heaping dose of unexpected nostalgia.

Beyond the Indigo Girls and opera, talented professionals across many creative fields have generously opened their homes, studios, museums, and performance venues to entertain us. Children’s authors Jarrett Krosoczka and Mo Willems hold daily writing and drawing classes for children. Olaf from the movie Frozen is reading bedtime stories to children. Yoga and crossfit studios have gone digital. You can tour numerous museums, go to the zoo, or visit a national park. And of course there is @John Krasinski from the Office totally stealing my idea and creating the Some Good News (@somegoodnews) news program that ONLY FEATURES GOOD NEWS. What a novel idea. And of course he is hilarious and just slightly more famous than me so I support his effort.

Is experiencing these cultural places virtually the same as seeing it, being there, experiencing it for real? No, of course not. But, does it break through isolation and provide access to worlds previously held at a distance, places that many would never have been able to experience at all? Well, yes, it does. And, boy, does it ever gives us all something to dream about, not to mention something to do!

I dream of one day going to every single place I profile during this virtual journey and hugging ALL the people, everywhere. Dreams help enormously right now. A little escapism never hurt anyone, right? Generous people giving of their talents to keep us all entertained at this time help tremendously. And, I want to note that I find this sudden turn toward the stalwarts of civilization – books, art, music, culture- fascinating. In the U.S. the arts often don’t get their fair shake. They are considered superfluous and perpetually underfunded. And, yet, when the shit hits the fan, look what anchors us all.

I’ll leave you with this. Truly, what the world needs now is love. And hope.

OH! And I forgot to recommend some good books for this part of the tour. Well, one of my favorites is Wallace Stegner’s Angle of Repose. A truly gorgeous book about pioneering in the American West. Or how about The Overstory by Richard Powers? Or The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah? Hillbilly Elegy by J. D. Vance could also be interesting during this time to frame the political conundrum, to put it gently, the U.S. finds itself in. Those should keep you busy for a while.

Until next time.

Stay home, stay well.

You will be alright. WE will be alright.

Prayers to all of us during this season of Passover and Easter. Hopefully the tempest will pass over soon and we will all be finding re-birth and renewal in its wake.

Local Love

March 31, 2020April 17, 2022Meg

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:

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.

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

Time to Put On Our Rally Caps!

March 22, 2020April 17, 2022Meg

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.

Always, 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. Tune 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!

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