Life Never Gets Easier . . .

Twenty Twenty-Won?

2021 Couldn’t come fast enough for me.

Seriously.

I generally have a pretty positive attitude, but this year has sucked the life out of me.

Pandemic raging. Government in Shambles. Furloughed from my job. Isolated from most of the people I love. And the death of my dearest friend.

Then to add insult to injury I got a parting gift from 2020. On December 28th I was officially laid off from my furloughed position. It was a job I was sure I was going back to.

%$#%T^Y&%#@(&%!!!!!!

My thoughts lingered in sadness and anger. I considered all the other people also in my boat and became even more upset. So many are suffering because of the virus and the ensuing economic chaos.

Then I remembered I had a letter to read, a letter from myself. I know that sounds weird but periodically I write a letter to future me. It might commemorate an important event or be a sober reminder of tough times in the past. I actually have a letter to myself in 2038 from 2015 – and I have no idea why I wrote it.

This letter was from December 2019, written on the brink of a new decade. I was full of optimism, even as I mulled over the trials of the previous decade. The “teens” had been complicated, lots of blessings but lots of pain too.

2019 Lisa saw the 2020s as a new start and urged 2020 Lisa to look for all the possibilities for joy and creativity in the year ahead.

Wow. 2019 Lisa had no idea how much creativity it would take to maintain even a modicum of joy. 2019 Lisa knew nothing of Covid-19, masks, and social distancing. But she knew one thing for sure. She had survived all the tribulations of 54 years and had the confidence to face any new ones.

The advice was sound and still is.

I don’t know when I will find a job. I don’t know when I will be vaccinated and the threat of the virus will recede. Frankly, I don’t know anything about the future.

Whatever happens, however, I will seek joy and employ creativity. Happy New Year.

Quote Wednesday: Beautiful Things in Humble Places

“Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing. ” -Painter Camille Pissarro

My Answer for Question Tuesday

So I posted a question earlier today. I asked people to pay attention today and share a small detail they’d never noticed before.

Here is my detail: sound.

Seaside Heights, New Jersey

I was lucky enough to spend this Tuesday at the Jersey shore with my daughter Emma. Forget about social distancing, on the cool weekday, we had a hundred feet between us and anyone else. There was just us, a few seagulls, and the waves.

I have always been at the beach with lots of other noisy people. Or I’ve been on the Long Island Sound which only has the tiniest waves, quiet waves, barely lapping at the sand.

Nothing like today. The waves were whipped up by the wind. They had to be ten feet high at least. And they crashed. It was a wonderful sound like giant bass drum. But there was another sound beneath that.

Something was roaring. At first I kept looking up for a jet flying over. But there was none. And it kept going, never stopping. Maybe it was more like a locomotive.

And then I realized the ongoing bellowing roar, was another sound of the ocean itself. It was its actual watery engine, caused by the waves and the general turbulence near the surface. The stronger the winds, the louder. Yet I’d never noticed it before.

I was mesmerized. How could I have missed something this loud? Easy. I just wasn’t paying attention. 

I made a point of really trying to pay attention today, to uncover an overlooked detail. I thought I would see something in the sand, or sky, or water. And I did see various sized gulls and minute dried up crabs. But I’d see. These before.

I never thought my ears would pick something up. But they did, thank goodness. Something like the deep heart of the world.

I will end with a quote from the poet Longfellow.  “My soul is full of longing
for the secret of the sea,
and the heart of the great ocean
sends a thrilling pulse through me.”

Question Tuesday: Pay Attention to Your Life

Question Tuesday.

Today: pay attention to your life. Whatbisnone small detail you never noticed before.

Poetry Friday: Of What Surrounds Me

On this 19th anniversary of 9-11, amid a pandemic, and at the end of a week I have been contemplating the comfort of nature, I give you this poem by the late Mary Oliver. The inspiration of the her natural surroundings is what allows her to write. May nature’s beauty also inspire us

Of What Surrounds Me

Whatever it is I am saying, I always

need a leaf or a flower, if not an

entire field. As for sky, I am so wildly

in love with each days inventions, so blue

or cat gray or full

of the ships of clouds, I simply can’t

say whatever it is I am saying without

at least one skyful. That leaves water, a

creek or a well, river or ocean, it has to be

there. For the heart to be there. For the pen

to be poised. For the idea to come.

The Slow, the Still, and the Centered

Yesterday morning I spent a wonderful hour sitting on the back deck with a cup of coffee.

Honey bees and bumble bees lazily drank nectar out of cup-shaped potato vine flowers. The ants were a little more ambitious marching up and down the wooden slats. There are way too many of them so we’ve sprinkled cinnamon to slow their advance into the house. A monarch caterpillar inched his way along a milkweed stem. A dragonfly landed and for an instant her iridescent blue body was illuminated by the sun.

The birds came and went. A pair of goldfinches grabbed seeds from the feeder. A downy woodpecker searched for bugs in a woody branch. The mourning doves cood. Briefly a hummingbird hovered nearby.

Everyone was doing their thing. No one was in a rush.

Ever so often a sycamore tree dropped a long golden leaf. They fluttered slowly to the ground. I looked up and saw so many different greens, cool grayish ones, deep emeralds, and others infused with yellow. Beyond them was the bluest sky.

And watching it all while sipping coffee brought me a deep peacefulness.

Yes, this was a paradise in suburbia, not a pristine lakeside far from civilization. But are my creatures any less lovely for their suburban setting? I think not. And, right now while the whole world seems to be out of kilter and holding it’s collective breath, my paradise has the benefit of being right outside the back door.

I’m beginning to think that a good way to exist within this pandemic, is to be as present as possible in the peaceful moments – especially when those moments involve nature.

Forest Bathing, called Shinrin-Yoku where it originated in Japan in the 1990s, just means walking in the woods. Even an urban park that has lots of greenery will do. It has been shown to reduce blood pressure. A small study found that breathing in the phytoncides – compounds emitted by trees – reduces stress hormones and helps activate white blood cells.

Why are we all not doing this?

People seem fixated on recreating the rhythms and activities of their previous “normality.” There are Instagram concerts, Zoom work meetings and cocktail parties, and, of course, virtual school. I know we are making these things work and some of them are enjoyable. But to be honest, a lot of it feels stressful to me.

To be clear, I do not believe in fate. I do not believe travails are “sent” to test us, or make us better people. Covid19 just happened. That’s it – no inherent meaning.

But that doesn’t mean we cannot assign it some meaning. And maybe one way is to re-examine how we live each day through the lens of the present and not try to force it into the frames that existed before March 2020.

I think that is why I keep turning again and again to the quiet and green. Whether that is on the back deck or walking with my dog along the creek. Through it, I am finding a meaning for this moment. It is very much in keeping with the words of naturalist John Burroughs (1837 – 1921), “I go to nature to be soothed, and to be healed, and to have my senses put in order.”

Instead of trying to rebuild the freneticism of our former lives, we can seek out the slow, the still, and the centered. Maybe that will be a better way to mourn what we have lost and create a better future.

All this doesn’t mean I hate going to parties, or restaurants, or concerts. I will enjoy them again when I feel they are safe.

But for now I am content to hang with the bees.

Quote Wednesday: Carl Sagan

Because I love trees and science, I offer today’s quote from writer Carl Sagan:

“Deep down at the molecular heart of life, the trees and we are essentially identical.”

While meditating this week on the slow, the still, and the centered, it is comforting to also understand our connectedness – on the molecular level – with the trees. And to also remember that we and the trees literally breathe in and out for each other.

Question Tuesday: Magic Doors

Naturalist John Muir wrote that “between every two pines, there is a doorway to a new world.” What is the most magical “door” in nature that you have stepped through?

Quote Wednesday: “One Single Tribe”

At the very end of Black Panther, after the credits have rolled we have a scene of King T’Challa speaking at the United Nation about how countries, communities, and people should treat each other. This was from a 2018 movie, but it seems like it was written for today.

“Now, more than ever, the illusions of division threaten our very existence. We all know the truth: more connects us than separates us. But in times of crisis the wise build bridges, while the foolish build barriers. We must find a way to look after one another, as if we were one single tribe.”

The listed screenplay writers on IMDB.com are Ryan Coogler, John Robert Cole, Stan Lee, who was the original writer of the comic book, and Jack Kirby, who was deceased but was the original artist.