Daily goal: Don't lapse into group think. Build bridges not bunkers.
Morning Glory- It's quiet, dark skies, I enjoy the silence. This is my time to abstain from news and updates. Just absorb the calm. Feel the energy of connecting with the moment. Plan the day. Certain routine, with a hint of spontaneity.
I made a list of things I can do in my house. Things I generally am to busy to do. Things I might not want to do- cleaning wise. Even things I, at one time, thought would be cool, but forgot about. I number them. Then use a pair of dice to roll and choose an adventure. This keeps things interesting.
Like the "Say Yes, Not No" philosophy to try new things- I am seeking a brain growth moment. Learning to play Chess, play Sudoku (I am not a numbers/math person) or build a shadow box/memory case. Even taking up needle point (never had the patience for it). Small doses of these things keeps me engaged. Some I put away in a box- some I put back in the the pile for another day's adventure.
Immerse in harm reduction. That is what we are told. Prevent the spread of the virus, but it is also important not to allow the infiltration of complacency and stagnancy. We can abstain from close interactions outside, but inside we need to continue to interact with new ideas and saturate our mental avenues.
Afternoon Stateliness- This is the hardest part of the day. Several hours of grading, conferencing with students, editing modules. This is the time the neighbors dog gets rowdy and starts barking incessantly. Headphones are a requirement. Nice and loud- he is 100 feet outside my office window.
Music shifts from mellow to heavy base- it helps drown out the distraction. Massive Attack, New Order, some German Industrial. Anything to get me pumped. This is the slump on most days- but in this time- even more so. I feel ambushed.
All the subtle reminders come fluttering in like sticky notes, caught in a gust of wind. Releasing from their locus- combining into a giant torrent of- clingy cognizance. Anxiety will follow me no matter where I go. It stalks its prey. Forcing my hand. The guttural beat of angst is my only defense. Distraction from the paper cuts of restlessness.
Evening Majesty- Family time. Relaxation time. The time when everything else: school, society, stress- dissipates. I play a board game, watch some TV, or just hang with my family. At least for two hours. Then everyone gets back to what they need to do. I have two school-aged children, two who work different hours throughout the day, and we have chores to get done in the house.
Then maybe some chats on Twitter. I listen to podcasts. Write. Read. Just really stay immobile for a bit. It is important to walk, in the morning. Stay active through out the day. But in the evening I kinda go dormant.
This is when I write in my journal- the days events, did I meet my goals and intentions. What I need to do tomorrow, etc. I read an article today that said- we will forget most of the specifics about quarantine. The overall event yes, but the details will fall away, much like the pain of childbirth. We remember the event, but the actual pain is forgotten.
The article says, it will be a remember when...discussion we have in the future. It will be one of big moments, not day to day memories.
But, I think the scars will run a bit deeper. We might not know why we are skittish and nervous in the future. We will assume it didn't impact us much. But most of us will forever be altered by this ordeal. Even when everything feels back to 'normal' it will always feel different, we will feel less social, especially around strangers.
It is these days, happening right now that will decide how we put the pieces back for ourselves. This is a personal journey, even with a house of six- it feels very much personal. I don't want to forget the moments I endured- that is why I keep a journal and write posts.
So when this wave subsides, I can still see every hole in the sand as it fills. Like blinking eyes glistening in the sunlight. Those holes are important- not to bring back memories of anxiety, but ones of coping and strength.
The indelible sand made from the weathering and erosion of rock, landing on our shores. A slow process, unnoticed by humanity. Yet, a continual cycle of destruction, movement and deposition. Now that is strength.
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Your ideas are wonderfully uplifting, insightful, and helpful to read. When thinking about the "new normal" that this experience is creating, I've thought some of the same things as you: Will we ever casually witness someone cough without running away inside? The phrase "Hand to mouth" no longer has anything to do with food or money. It is now a harbinger of death. If not outwardly, we are all a little jittery inside.
ReplyDeleteOne idea that helps me think that there can be some return to a more comfortable "normal" is that smallpox had its time. Fever has swept through communities. There is hope for this to pass, as well. One huge difference is that those other pandemics did not have the media to "help" them.