From My Perch

‘There she is again, on her perch.” I heard him chuckle under his breath, as he walked into the room. He knows I’m in my zone, when he sees me in this position, pecking away at the keyboard.

Like many of you, I’ve experienced a range of emotions, during this time of quarantine and social distancing.

It’s fascinating to me, how we can spiral up and down Maslow’s hierarchy so quickly, one minute we’re hanging out in love and belonging and the next, we’re fighting over toilet paper when we feel our basic survival needs being threatened.

I’ve ranged from sheer terror, the same rock my world uncertainty I felt on September 11th, 2001. The scene in my head playing from The Ten Commandments movie, you know the one with Charlton Heston, where people are locking themselves in their houses and huddling in fear as this green haze, the plague, rolls through the village taking people away. It gave me night terrors as a child.

The next minute, I’m reassuring myself with the hopeful promise, that this is just an exaggerated precaution we’re taking and we’ll all be fine, if we’re willing to resist some time of inconvenience, this will all blow over sooner, rather than later.

I’m moved to tears the next, sad for my son and his senior class this is not the polaroid moment they were envisioning for the finale of their final year of high school together. This is trivial in comparison I know to the families who’ve lost a loved one, who’ve lost their job, studio, or shop after years of dedication. I’m crying out in the reality of this wake-up call I’ve sensed for years was coming.

This predicament has been a long time in the making, and in many ways, this will present as the real Survivor for the fittest. For the preppers and the introverts that can easily hunker down and make the best of it, they will thrive during this time, and for the ones that detest change, thrive on constant external validation, and can’t slow for fear of their past catching them, this time may prove to be a true testament of will. Like the race between the tortoise and the hare, some of us have been slowly plodding along as the tortoises, using our tools, preparing ourselves for situations like this for years, continuously creeping toward the finish line, while the hares are running in circles around us, panting, scrambling to find a quick fix and they’ll quickly exhaust themselves and burn out and they hastily look for options or adopt unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Quarantine hasn’t been a huge transition for me logistically, thankfully, I have the flexibility of working remotely online. Having the boys and my hubby at home creates less stress for me because they’re pretty much self-sufficient, and school and social activities have come to a halt. I’m embracing the opportunity to align with my more natural rhythms, like waking without an alarm clock, yet surprisingly, still waking at 5 am. I’m gaining 10-15 hours per week of creative/work time that I normally spend in transition shuttling the kids, waiting in the carpool, and grocery shopping, not to mention the gas savings.

It’s easy to focus on what we’ve lost, but what are you gaining back in your life during this time?

This experience is forcing us all to evaluate how we function in our daily lives, in many ways that we may take for granted.

Maybe you’ve felt the overwhelming urge, as I did in the beginning to grab my medic bag, like a first responder, and rush into the scene of the accident, to help, to do, to fix, to find a solution. Or maybe after having your social media and email flooded with others rushing onto the scene, you’ve had a bit of bystander effect, wanting to help but too paralyzed to move. They’ve got this. Honestly, I’ve fluctuated between both. Initially, like a mama bird, I sensed the need to protect myself and my family, making sure we have enough provisions or a way to get necessities when we need them. The weight of the world has left me feeling restless with sleepless nights, thoughts fogging my brain, feeling a frantic need to share the resources I have and know can help, and ironically, at the same time, wanting to be a source of ease and calm for the world. I know this feeling well. I’d experienced it before, years earlier when I was in the throes of orthorexia, so riddled with eco-anxiety that I felt guilty for even using a sheet of toilet paper. I knew I didn’t want to return to that unhealthy place.

When I feel myself in an ungrounded state of fear, worry, guilt, anxiety, lack, dis-ease I retreat.

To the outsider, it may appear as an aloof withdrawal, a carefree self- indulgence. While soberly aware of the deep grief affecting the world right now, this is my way to control what I can control. Like the red-tailed hawk, taking flight, spiraling up the towering wind currents to higher ground, to rise above the chaos of the noise and confusion and gain a better perspective. I’m looking out my bedroom window as I’m writing this and I’m realizing for the first time that I have an almost 360 degree vantage point of our surrounding area, one of the highest elevation points in the county, and that’s probably what unconsciously sold me on this location.

From my roost, I can survey my territory, regain a sense of discernment, and plot a plan of action for obtaining what I need for survival. Who am I showing up for, and why?

Knowing that energy flows where focus goes, I intentionally focus my energy toward wellness and healing instead of fear and illness. For me that means ramping up immune-boosting protocols, strictly outlining my boundaries, cutting out what’s nonessential, and focusing on what is. Knowing that I now have all of my essential bases covered, is it possible to allow myself to surrender into this time for the gift it is instead of feeling responsible for lifting everyone else? Is it okay to simply be present for others in my meditation practice, include them in our family prayers, and reach out when I feel ready?

I feel deep sadness for those struggling during this time not only for those healing physically but for the millions who have been let go or are out of work from their jobs, who are grieving, who have lost.

On the other hand, I’m looking ahead, and I feel an almost guilty sense of excitement for the beauty of the gift of awakening that this time has provided and for our future. From here, I see the silver lining in the clouds. an audible collective sigh of relief that says, this is more like it. This is the pace we need to be living; space, connection, conscious choice, deliberate action.

Why are we in such a freaking hurry anyway?! What is the outcome of the busy epidemic? What do you need right now that you’ve been denying yourself? Is this our ecological effort to establish equilibrium in a society where our technology is quickly outgrowing our collective consciousness? What can we create from this experience? We’re sobering up to the clarity of what’s gotten us here is not going to get us there. Ultimately, we can’t always see what’s not working when we’re in the matrix.

Our lifedance is always changing, this divine intervention may be a great gift in disguise, allowing us to retreat to higher ground and peer into the big picture view of what’s going on in our lives, inviting us to pause, to be still, listen and know. What needs to change? What insight, clarity, and growth do we have to gain as we transition into our collective re-mission, our official initiation into the 21st century? Can I get by on less? Can I have a better quality of life by doing less and being more present? Will I develop greater agility in my ability to accept the things I can’t control and to affect the things I can? Can I be more productive and achieve more by slowing down, and putting my needs first? How will our current beliefs that have been guiding us about the way we work, educate our children, and live out our daily lives shift as a result of this experiential learning? Will we immediately regress into the daily grind assuming business as usual? Or will we begin the slow process of healing and adopting new ways of behaving?

It’s easy for me to support from behind the scenes, donating my support through positive vibes, words of encouragement, or monetary donation, but my heart goes out to those on the front lines of this pandemic, the health care workers, emergency responders, teachers, flight attendants, food providers, and other service providers who, while having the same fears I do, are choosing to show up daily and serve others despite the jeopardy they are knowingly facing. You are the true birds of courage. Every time I see an eagle circling or hawk cry, I am reminded of the ultimate act of strength, bravery, and compassion these humans are giving and have given throughout generations. You are what keep our nation strong during vulnerable times. My deepest appreciation and sincere gratitude radiate out to each one of you.

Thank you for your service.