It’s completely surreal: I’m sitting here in our amazing oasis of a yard, green all around me, with the different colors of all of the beautiful flowers softly waving in the breeze and I am watching the boys run around and goof off in the pool. (Yes, we have a small pool, which is one of the most amazing perks I appreciate every single day.) The sky is blue, the clouds are puffy.
Pull the lens back a bit: this beautiful green oasis is completely surrounded by a 19-foot fence, keeping us in and everyone else out. Good guys in and potential bad guys out. The guards do a decent job making sure that is actually how it is, but really any car that has come in once is allowed to enter again as often as they like, as is anyone with license plates from the embassy.
Pull the lens back a bit more: we just finished a solid day of eLearning and teleworking, struggling with the trickle if internet, wrestling with the different software we are each using for our respective tasks. The other boys joining my three are our neighbors, who we have deliberately ‘socially isolated’ ourselves with, trusting them as we do our own family. Should we have any symptoms, we would immediately share with them.
A bit more: we are in a country that has recently entered the fray with COVID-19. The medical system in this country will without a doubt rapidly become overwhelmed if the cases climb much higher; the Ministry of Health doing their best to keep things in check. What can we do, though? If we leave, the risk of exposure we would bring upon ourselves far out-weights the risks of staying here, where we have so much more control over our environment. Of course, if things go south, things will rapidly change. What to do, what to do.
I had most of a post written, but my efforts have been completely derailed. How many of you are struggling with focus? Nevermind the stress of our current situation with COVID-19 knocking on our door, and the kids eLearning, juggling mystifying and completely-non-user-friendly software for teleworking and having to deal with sharing truly astonishingly crappy internet amongst four of us.
I can't complain, either, because everyone is going through the same thing. Every.single.one.of.us. If nothing else, we can find unity in that, right?
I did read this poem this week. Corona has a message for us. Let's stop and listen.
An Imagined Letter from Corona to Humans ~ Kristin Flyntz
Stop. Just stop. It is no longer a request. It is a mandate. We will help you. We will bring the supersonic, high speed merry-go-round to a halt We will stop the planes the trains the schools the malls the meetings the frenetic, furied rush of illusions and “obligations” that keep you from hearing our single and shared beating heart, the way we breathe together, in unison. Our obligation is to each other, As it has always been, even if, even though, you have forgotten. We will interrupt this broadcast, the endless cacophonous broadcast of divisions and distractions, to bring you this long-breaking news: We are not well. None of us; all of us are suffering. Last year, the firestorms that scorched the lungs of the earth did not give you pause. Nor the typhoons in Africa,China, Japan. Nor the fevered climates in Japan and India. You have not been listening. It is hard to listen when you are so busy all the time, hustling to uphold the comforts and conveniences that scaffold your lives. But the foundation is giving way, buckling under the weight of your needs and desires. We will help you. We will bring the firestorms to your body We will bring the fever to your body We will bring the burning, searing, and flooding to your lungs that you might hear: We are not well. Despite what you might think or feel, we are not the enemy. We are Messenger. We are Ally. We are a balancing force. We are asking you: To stop, to be still, to listen; To move beyond your individual concerns and consider the concerns of all; To be with your ignorance, to find your humility, to relinquish your thinking minds and travel deep into the mind of the heart; To look up into the sky, streaked with fewer planes, and see it, to notice its condition: clear, smoky, smoggy, rainy? How much do you need it to be healthy so that you may also be healthy? To look at a tree, and see it, to notice its condition: how does its health contribute to the health of the sky, to the air you need to be healthy? To visit a river, and see it, to notice its condition: clear, clean, murky, polluted? How much do you need it to be healthy so that you may also be healthy? How does its health contribute to the health of the tree, who contributes to the health of the sky, so that you may also be healthy? Many are afraid now. Do not demonize your fear, and also, do not let it rule you. Instead, let it speak to you—in your stillness, listen for its wisdom. What might it be telling you about what is at work, at issue, at risk, beyond the threats of personal inconvenience and illness? As the health of a tree, a river, the sky tells you about quality of your own health, what might the quality of your health tell you about the health of the rivers, the trees, the sky, and all of us who share this planet with you? Stop. Notice if you are resisting. Notice what you are resisting. Ask why. Stop. Just stop. Be still. Listen. Ask us what we might teach you about illness and healing, about what might be required so that all may be well. We will help you, if you listen.