Fall Check-in

Still in this self-imposed isolation. Although that isn’t entirely true. It is more like biological house-arrest. My poor system still has a Venn diagram of a migraine, the flu, and nerve weirdness. ALL THE TIME. Which is not ideal. Especially when my previously functioning brain feels like someone shook a puzzle and then handed it back without a picture or box, pieces falling all over — and was like, “may the odds be ever in your favor.”

That said, I’m okay. Sometimes. As long as life is preposterously slow and small and simple. I keep active with walks on the local trail, toes in the grass, or light yoga. Occasionally make a soup or tidy or watch the hypnotic rhythm of proper football or attempt to e-read some non-fiction where I retain a fraction. Mostly I rest and listen to my body while enjoying the myriad of suburban wildlife and curious fauna and the black cat that wanders through as if to nonchalantly check-in… I am not unhappy. Most of the time. That said, I am truly and embarrassingly miserable to be around more often than I would like. Especially when any extra illness or stress or toxin or malady decide to join the base trifecta.

Sometimes I worry about everything out there — while my head is buried in the Midwest prairie soil of my own Giverny. Everyone deserves a sanctuary bubble of their own. A place to settle or heal or reset — for as long or short as needed. It is a warzone out there. And hard. And complicated. And filled with minutiae. But to be honest, at this point, I don’t even have the energy to worry let alone act or respond or consider the state of the union. But I do think of you. Often. All of you.

Many decades ago while getting my theology degree (in what seems like a past-life), a favorite prof encouraged praying without requests — instead be silently still, open to wisdom, and reflect unconditional love, without feigning control over the future or what constitutes a desirable outcome from such a limited view. Ever since then, upon any occasion that someone random or beloved or peculiar crosses my mind, I reciprocate by sending lovingkindness back. I’ve found it helpful during the liminal spaces. The little segues between activities and gaps of empty time and especially in these chasms — when meditatively exchanging vibes is about all that is manageable.

Frankly, I don’t know if/when this will be better enough for me to be part of the real world. We continue learning how to cope with it better. Rest assured that at my current neutral, I’m more than okay. I accept that meaning doesn’t necessarily come in the planned or expected or ideal, but in the appreciated. I embrace the developing tapestry of this beautiful (but bonkers) life. I breathe into a place of settled contentment. I’d be annoyingly enlightened if it was even slightly more voluntary.