We are in the earliest days of this sea change. Losing heart now is not an option.
Yesterday a package arrived from China, elastic I sourced from Etsy months ago. Upon opening the package thirty-one individually sealed, single use surgical masks cascaded out, along with many yards of flat elastic. Kindness from so far away… but my surprise was soon eclipsed by fear. I mean, China. Are these masks safe?
This was a sign…
In the beginning I sewed one hundred fifty masks and gave them away. Friends and family dropped off glorious flowers. A neighbor braved Costco and delivered sanitized groceries a number of times. Cooperation and compliance was comforting. As the weeks bore down, the volume of death, the spectre of suffering alone, these realities left me breathless. In tiny increments my sense of kindness lost buoyancy.
I know in earlier posts I suggested you look for signs, in nature, all around, for guidance and strength. Signs are key. I missed some signals of my own. Without noticing it at first, I became more critical, suspicious, and other directed. I ceased meditating. Despite my intention to be my best self, after a few weeks my focus shifted—were others being their best selves? Wear a mask, people! Comply and cooperate! Pitch in!
Okay. Who made me the room monitor? Um, me. The scared me.
When trails opened on the mountain I hiked sixty-five miles in three weeks in search of solace. Stamina is good, but I found no solace. Lately my mind grinds away in overtime, seeking a solution to the testing, supply chain and political quagmire that obscures our horizon. But this concern is like the hiking, like the sewing… a coping mechanism.
I realize I need to go deeper– not faster, not further. I need to dive in to retrieve my faith, my heart, my hope.
I meditate and visualize swimming in the sea. The quiet, the undulating motion, the enveloping otherness, this is the rapture of the deep. Fears fall away. Fears are about tomorrow, the unknown. I visualize the sea itself as the reality today and accept that I am surrounded entirely by the absolute unknown. How to survive this moment? With no boundary in sight my only option is the very simplest one. I must float. Be still. Trust. It has taken weeks to come to this realization. To survive this I must let go. Just let go, and float.
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