Covid-19 (Day 29 of self-isolation)

Objet du Jour - a shawl I completed in about 40 shades of violet. I left it on my couch as I like looking at it and can hardly wait to waltz about outside in it.

There's a form of routine to my days, it's loose but there.

So here it is.

I get up at my usual time and make my breakfast (always a frightful bore - a large pot of dark roast - freshly ground beans, one egg and some healthy cereal with homemade yogurt and fresh or canned fruit) and well, 16 pills to start my day. All for kidney and heart and blood pressure function along with some D drops, some complex B and a baby aspirin (they don't call them that anymore right?)

I read my latest novel while I eat, a habit I've practiced for years except in my B&B days when I had to serve my guests. Afterwards it's Tao meditation time (I light a small candle) and the gathering of my self. I plan my meals for the day then so when I get involved in other stuff I know what I'm eating. I jot notes on whatever I'm writing.

Every morning, I email my small family (we have a group chat) a good morning wish and maybe a song or a positive thought. Today it was gratitude for their love for me and mine for them evidenced by a huge care package dropped off by my nephew last night which made me cry. Niece had put it together. I saw him through the heavy glass doors of my building and it felt so lonely and surreal as we waved at each other but this is much worse for them as he hasn't hugged his wife or his children in 4 weeks as he works in an environment that is high risk.

Then I check the newspapers - all digitally. I post relevant news items on the Covid-19 site I founded. And read comments and moderate and kick off misbehaving members with their own hateful agendas. Then I write for a while, or I knit. Or blog. Or a mix of everything. If I attend a Zoom meeting I knit which is a bonus.

I am never bored. I feel enormously free to do stuff now without the pressure of other stuff, if you know what I mean. My meds and groveries are delivered, I can PJ myself all day if I want. I don't have to interact with small talk ever (it drives me bats, call me deranged, I truly have to scrabble around in my brain to find bland sentences to volley back at the ones that are thrown at me).

Here are Canadian woman physicians singing one of my favourite songs of all time (originally written and sung by the Rankin Family).

Have a listen. Try not to let a tear leak. But ah go on - do, it's good for you. You don't have to be tough all the time.

Opposites

Or Mini-Meditations.

I do this regularly and almost subconsciously now. But it really helps me stay away from negative or worrisome thinking.

When I think: ooh I'm cold, I immediately think of when my chimney was no good for 3 months back in the old house and how every time I jacked the electric heat I'd worry about the ensuing power bills. And I smile. Gratefully.

I was moaning combing out my far too long hair this morning after showering, as it knotted and pulled and then thought: Others would kill for your hair, yes it's thinning, but imagine combing a sparseness, hairs you can literally count. Like so many I know. And I smile. Gratefully.

I was brooding over a friendship gone south (I thought) and feeling angry and upset and lost. And then I thought of all the happy, joyful times, and the kindnesses given and received during its long stretch and I smiled. Gratefully.

I had a long session with my young friend who is going through stuff no one should have to suffer. And I was raging for her and the ex-partner who treats her so badly and then I said: "You know I had a dreadful beginning to my sobriety, hell on wheels, everything went wrong that could. But you know what happened? I recognised it was my past catching up with me like a tsunami and now I also recognise that I had to go through all of that without picking up and my life never ever got that bad again because I learned some amazing lessons and made some marvellous life friends who support me through thick and thin, warts 'n all. And I promise you, it will never, ever be this bad again if you don't pick up." And she smiled. Shakily, gratefully.

I brood about Missing Daughter. Of course I do. I'm an expert brooder. I could give lessons. And then I focus on Daughter #1, present and accounted for. Who treats me so well and so honourably and respectfully. And I smile. Gratefully.

See what I mean?

Renewal

Some of you may recall Mabel the Maple that Hurricane Leslie knocked right over, roots and all. Just about out of the ground. Dead. Her branches were sawn off and as the job was being finished, Mabel rose again and settled back into the vast hole left by her uprooting. So I left her there to dry out so that Craig, a local furniture maker, could make a lovely outside bench from her. She would live on. But Mabel has taken matters into her own hands and as you can see from the picture, festooned herself in leaves and mini-branches. It takes my breath away.

I think of her as I take my morning quiet time and do some readings and reflection and yes, meditation, on the power of life and rejuvenation, adaptation and change. For that is life, n'est pas?

Ruts and routine can be deadly, stultifying the spirit, filling us with anxiety and the entrapment of addictions and thoughtless consumerism.

Mabel keeps teaching me. I can hardly wait to see what she does next.