We are wading towards the deep end. Now six weeks deep in a strange new world.
My hands ache from the busy with which I’ve been filling my days - moving, building, gardening, poop scooping, tending to the land I now call home. The sun has kissed my pasty white shoulders and the sensitive little tip of my nose. My moon time, now far from regular, indicates that the stress levels in my body are quite different than they feel to my waking consciousness. Today is tomorrow is today and yesterday. Time is warping. And yet, all this strangeness, I believe … is a gift. A oddly-packaged, slapped-on-your-doorstep, terrible, wonderful, never-before-experienced, what-will-you-do-with-it, gift.
The ducklings are a month old. Last night they slept outside for the first time. Last night I reclaimed my living room. Swept, mopped, made a fire. I checked on them incessantly, 8pm, 11pm, 3am, 5:30am - hopeful they were safe and warm and not too frightened. I built them a fortress. They approved. I do hope it remains fortress enough for all the critters we share this grassland with.
I have been feeling all the feels, as they say. In my mind and heart and body. Plenty of curiosity & optimism, as per my usual recipe. And lately I’ve also been chewing on the big one…
Patience.
Like a llama, I chew on it, swallow it, spit it back up, into my mouth, and then chew on it some more. Yummm. I mean, after all, the reason I’m chewing on patience is because, let’s be honest, most of us have plenty of time to be chewing on patience right about now.
I decided to try slicing off the tip of my thumb a couple weeks ago. Out here in the middle of nowhere. Good times. Wouldn’t recommend it. I’m quite fond of my thumbs. I’m guessing you probably like yours too.
This accident slowed me down. Required more patience of me than I wanted to give, while simultaneously bringing into sharp focus the level of my isolation. Hop in the car, drive an hour, and you’ll get somewhere. But between here and somewhere is only wide open spaces.
Spaces plenty big for patience. Spaces plenty big for time, and distance, and wonder. Spaces and places plenty big to dream up a whole new dream. Space to build, to be, to grow, to learn, to observe, and to wonder. Wide open spaces. The Big Empty.
Whether we find ourselves surrounded by sky or sky scrapers, or something in between, I believe we are all being asked, by a force we cannot see or comprehend, to learn, really learn, patience. This is a gift. Wrapped up like a lesson. This is no small task. And as un-easy as it is, so too is it important.
Right now I am paying bills with money from my savings account. This is a temporary fix. Without inputs, the savings account will only get smaller. Every day a new email… “we have decided to postpone our event due to Coronavirus”. Yes of course. I support the decision whole-heartedly. My income and my bank account will wait. I am not alone. None of this is easy.
Patience.
I applied for the PPP. I may or may not get money. It may or may not be forgiven. I am a sole proprietor. I am a gig worker. I am an artist. I don’t fit into any of the boxes.
Patience.
I have not touched another human being in over seven weeks. I live alone. I ache to be held. Leant on. Kissed. A hand in mine, on mine. Hugs. One hug. Touch. Is like breathing.
Patience.
We are in this together. Apart. Together. Should we open. Should we not. What is safe. What is worth it. Will the second wave be worse than the first. How many will die. Will it be me. Will it be someone I love. What happens to our economy. How will we help ourselves. How will we help each other. Is our food supply chain breaking. What was already broken. When can I hug my friends again. When will the kids be back in school. How will I pay rent. What day is it. Will my parents be okay. Will I have a job. Clients. Income. When will this all be over. Will life ever look normal again. What is normal anyway. And do we even want to go back to it.
I hear you. LOUD. There is angst in the collective.
I have my truths. We all do. They may be different. But our truths, all together, different or the same, are outweighed by the vast unknown. By this strange, terrible, wonderful, unsolicited gift, that we don’t yet understand.
We are not in control. And we humans don’t tend to like the way that feels.
Patience.
Gratitude.
For a few days last week I had no running water. Welcome to off grid living. Things get weird.
Wash your hands now, ya hear? No running water.
No running water is no way to live.
And yet.
Two million people. Two million people right here in the good ol’ US of A live that way every day. While we’re asking all the other questions, let’s ask the bigger ones. Why do we let this happen. Why do two million of our brothers and sisters here in the United States NOT have running water. And why are most of those people Native Americans living in Navajo Nation. Who do we think we are. Who do we want to be. What kind of a world do we want to be a part of. What changes can we make, as we rebuild an already broken world, to create a new world, more equitable. More kind.
Humility.
Patience.
Tonight my ducklings will sleep outside, again.
Tonight the barn owls will dance their mating dance and sing to the night sky.
The hills will go dark, the coyotes will howl, and our dreams will speak to us, if only we will listen.
And tomorrow the sun will rise, and bring with it an opportunity, each day anew, each day melting into the next, to learn patience. To chew on it, swallow it, spit it up, and chew on it some more.
Breathe deeply, my friends.
Practice patience.
Practice not knowing.
And know that not knowing is much of what all of this is all about.
We’re in it now. A marathon of marathons. We’ll not be through this quickly. And we’ll not recognize ourselves on the other side. Let’s make that unrecognizable self the biggest, brightest, softest, kindest self we’ve ever dreamt we could possibly be.
We can do this.
We can do hard things.
And we can do them with grace and kindness and patience, together, six feet apart.
Much love, y’all.
I created a resource page for all things Coronavirus, and I continue to update it weekly. Please feel free to utilize this resource, and to share it widely. With Love & Gratitude, Brittany