Day 13: Just Getting Started

This morning I am thinking about timing.  I wonder how I would be handling this Stay Home, Stay Healthy state-wide mandate if it happened in any other decade.  I can imagine each decade in my timeline offering a different challenge and benefit to withstanding a pandemic.  My finances have the character of the Wheel of Fortune- rotating around, up and down, ebb and flow.  However, is there ever a good time for a pandemic?

Thinking about the calendar, happy Palm Sunday for those that observe. Many Christians in my state find it interesting that the mandate started during Lent.  Lent is traditionally 40 days long, in commemoration of the 40 days Jesus spent fasting in the desert, before beginning his public ministry, during which he endured temptation by Satan.  The time in the desert prepared Christ for the cross.  Modern followers look inward and prepare their hearts for the coming Christ, on Resurrection Day (Easter).  What a great metaphor for our current situation!

Wondering how THINGS will change on May 5th, when the mandate is over.  A better question is how will PEOPLE to change.  How?  I do not know.  Will folks be more aware, more calm, centered and stronger.  Hoping I will be.  Perhaps, for some, who the pandemic is testing their character and resourcefulness, maybe, in June, when the relief checks show up and the cupboards are full again, perhaps then, they will have the time to look back on April and realize they walked through fire and lived.

One thing is for sure, this is the truth, NONE of us will be the same after this.

1) an observed joy- The food bank in my town is delivering boxes of food to folks in need!

2) a real concern- Watching the national news the other day, they headlined with “A worldwide record. America has the most with the coronavirus!”  Selling fear is not helpful.  This is NOT the number of folks dead like they made it sound.  We are testing MORE people than in other countries at this time.

3) a personal challenge- Finding reliable information for local and statewide is a challenge.  My confidence in our nation’s leaders is almost non-existence.  I do not like the way they are handling the pandemic.

4) one personal success (no matter how small)- I am still writing my journal.

5) a random thought (no matter how silly)- Always in motion, we are.  I stayed inside all day yesterday.  I haven’t done that since October 2018 when I was recovering from a car accident.

Worldwide, as of this post: 1.26 million tested positive (reported),
68,935 are deceased.
Coronavirus Dashboard

Breakfast at Harris’s

photo credit: Trip Advisor
photo credit: Trip Advisor

Happy moments.  They show up in the most surprising places, such as a window seat  Harris Avenue Café in Fairhaven.  I’m an inventory taker.  Every so often I take a look at my life and take inventory, see how I’m doing in relationship to my goals.  The last two years have been disappointing on many fronts.  At the same time, however, many personal breakthroughs have accumulated new ground.  Navel gazing at its best.

So, I’m treating myself to breakfast.  There’s no food in my kitchen and I haven’t eaten since Thursday afternoon.  This week I had two successful poetry performances and, well, I’m taking myself out to celebrate.  The plate arrives.  Eggs Toulouse with smoked salmon, Harris’s special spin on Eggs Benedict.  I order with fruit in place of potatoes.  Sitting pretty on the plate, red strawberries, green kiwi, yellow pineapple, orange melon sliced and arranged like they want to be painted.  My only brush, knife and fork. This is nothing I would make for myself and I don’t mind paying for someone else to put it all together.

The art of eating.

Enjoying the presentation.

Pausing for appreciation.

I seldom eat out.  I am thankful.

Picture 391 Harris CafeI have my 16 ounce mocha to my right. It sits there asking to be stirred.  I imagine a dark heavy layer of chocolate below the shots and milk. What a beautiful drink.  A book I’m three chapters in lays open on the left. Brightly painted tourist in sandals, slacks or khaki shorts and golf visors walk around looking for a nibble.  Groups of them walk in all asking for a table “outside in the garden.”  I’m inside, sitting in the window.  It’s almost nine, the sun is still behind 17th avenue; I’m safe for another two hours.

Breathing in the atmosphere, the happiness almost knocks me over—My God, I’m HAPPY.  I’m so freakin’ happy!  What a magical place this is.

This table, this view, this town, this moment—right now—just right now. I’ve always dreamed of doing this day in Europe.  Now I challenge France to come up with a better day.

Benny’s at dawn!

Whoever’s been praying for me, thank you.  This morning a portion of joy has manifest.

***

Harris Avenue Cafe  http://www.harrisavecafe.com/

Poem: Voice on the Trail

Copy of Picture 177

Voice on the Trail

—with a nod to poet Muriel Rukeyser (1913-1980)

All the voices of the Wood called “Shannon!”

But it was soon solved; it is nothing, it is not

my real name.

My real name is written on a stone kept warm by eternal

embers I am still too cold to hold.

Words like Real and Endure

Sound like Health and Hell

Then I see what is calling, it was the road

I traveled, miles behind, warning me of the FORK

The sound bounces forward, then back, right-side-down

warns of mud ahead―not to me, but to anyone.

And at last I saw where the road lies wide,

and clear orchard rows, easy fruit and bundled grass

roll along a tan, green and blue landscape.

Not for me. Not for me. Not for me.

I came into my clear being uncalled, alive, and sure

of all but what I see.

Nothing speaking to me, none know my real name―

not the owl, the fish or the elk, but I offer myself

to the strangers and it is well.

Strangers we are.

I know them all.

-SPL

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Poetry: Droplet


Sitting with a warm cup
sipping down the chamomile
looking up in awe
at the droplets fall

Abstract cutouts of dark trees
create the stage
so I can view you
descending from a silvery cloud

What of that one drop?
Where were you born?
You came from the sky
riding on a morning storm

Where do you live?
You go into the earth
watering a tree
Do you live in the tree?

Where is your home?
In the river as it
slithers back into the ocean
Do you live in the river?

Evaporated by the suns warmth
shrinking you down to mist
floating up to heaven
Are you dying or going home?

Back to the cloud you go
rising up and reborn
only to fall again
when a rain drop you become

Where do you live rain drop?
in the cloud
in the tree
in the river
…in me.