“Be yourself – not your idea of what you think somebody else’s idea
of yourself should be”
-Henry David Thoreau-
Hopefully this song makes you smile. Have a happy day!
I have often complained about my housing accommodation this last year (too small, unfinished, etc…), but I have come to think of how lucky I am to live where I live. I can step outside and go for a walk. If I observe the social distancing guidelines, I can go for a bike ride. Or I could go to the beach as I live within walking distance of the closest one and would not need to park my car. (As per city ordinance, all beachside parking lots are closed to the public.
Many people are not so lucky, and it must be hard to hunker down and wait … Anxiety is growing as the official response is often vague and contradictory and does not show a clear forward path. (apart from staying put that is – which will help to “flatten the curve.” I have no doubt).
It is in these hard and challenging times that we, as people, as humans, are forced to look inside ourselves and find ways to reconnect with a multitude of forgotten things. It may be a good thing to find out where we may be able to lend a hand. Reach out and connect (online) and remember, always, that this too shall pass.
Enjoy Day 5 of the Isolation Journal, laying out quite well the dark and moodiness that is slowly creeping up in people. And if you can spare but a tiny moment, like, follow the page/website. Until tomorrow peoples of the page. Be safe. Be kind. Namaste.
ISOLATION JOURNAL | A Southern Strategy |Day 5
If ever there was a time to think of people who are having a rougher time than we are, it’s now.
This was my lens of perceiving on Day 5 of my self-imposed isolation. The urgency of things is mushrooming at breakneck speed., and whatever one's conclusions or assumptions, it is a time for immense self-control. Suspension of anxiety can be found, at least temporarily, in giving consideration to others and extending help in any safe way one can.
I suggest we are all going to re-learn or learn something called Present-centeredness because the abyss of the Uncertain has suddenly opened on all sides of us. Uncertainty about what "it" is, the uncertainty of how our global powers and leaders will handle (or abuse) ''it'', and uncertainty of how we will survive "it." ''It's'' on everyone's minds, at once.
So many of us have not known the Uncertain much at all. Our lives in scripted consumer society have been pretty much plotted out for a lot of us, and I have never condemned anyone for choosing the safe or familiar, because, in the end, that choice is no easier than living by one's wits and trusting that the rabbit will be there to pull out of the hat.
That said, persons who not only expected--but demanded (of themselves and others)--that reality would unfold as advertised may be in for a rude awakening. But waking up to the facts does not have to disable them.
Most of us have already reviewed in our minds the grave potential for our own calamity, and chances are we have found persons in our midst in much more dire predicaments than ourselves. To rerun scenarios of possible doom is an avalanche of speculation that can be lethal in and of itself, and, for myself, I had to find my method ("Be here, now, in this present") of putting the brakes on this aspect of Mind, or I would not be of any good to myself nor anyone else. I've already had my midnight call to the Emergency Room over a week ago, but I have regained since.
Judgments about adult discussion vs. fear-mongering have also been blurred, as much as everything else about language has been turned upside down or Orwell-ized in modern society. Certainly, the hoarders need no provocation: Their minds apparently teem with Armageddon imagery, and hoarding is the best evidence of their nightmare coming to life... by their own hands.
I had converged with my neighbor late last evening after pulling into my driveway from a quick errand. We talked at 'safe distance' for some time. An exemplary parent in his mid-30s, he is very worried about his bright six-year-old son's exposure to this new world and is being vigilant about his son's exposure to the internet and television. "I don't want him growing up to expect that this madness is normal or acceptable--quarantine, excised freedoms, mania on newscasts—and it's all getting so quickly coded into his head. "
"I got to have a whiff of childhood," I told him. "I had at least nine years until I realized life was going to be a battle for me. It's not right; he should have his few years left as a child ripped away. But we are, collectively, the thieves."
"Few facts, no test kits, no definite forecast, and telling people it'll all pass in two weeks..." He stopped, then shrugged, exasperated.
We discussed neighborhood safety measures, property vigilance, the nuts, and bolts of civil distress. He regards me as an elder, and I am, so it was reaffirmed when he added, "If you need anything, let us know."
By the close of Day 5, it was all becoming a very quiet blur. I thought about how I could structure the next day to maximize my health, get some groceries, and build a better network of people who could talk to each other to calm anxieties and come up with long-term survival solutions for ourselves and others.
But the facts of any foreseeable future were still so vague that it seemed difficult to plan much of anything.
© Silvanus Slaughter 2020
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