ready to be ready

My goal was always to work from home, from back when I lived at the opposite side of the world. Living in overcrowded megapolises is no way to live. A city cemented over life brutalizes my provincial bones, leaving me with a constant need to get away and escape. 

From the crush. From the noise. From the rush. From the viciousness. 

When it was finally announced that we needed to shelter in place, the news was no surprise to me who had already chosen to isolate weeks before. Stay home. Don't see anyone. No being out and about. No social obligations. Yay!

Lots of uninterrupted time, finally - all to myself. All the opportunity to do whatever it is I wanted - just I, me, myself. Holed up within the bounds of my own sanctuary. I could. . . . 

that was Zen - this is Tao

crucified between a rock & a hard place

This week's schizoid weather resembles one of Trump's pandemic rhetorical performances. Where he tries in growing desperation and confusion to cover all his bases, shirk responsibility and lay blame elsewhere.

Just like this Fool on the Hill blustery gales have ravaged fragile blooms off trees and grounded sea craft on our shores. One day we are all bright sunshine and clear blue skies and next we are in the midst of heavy rain and wild thunderstorms.

This Good Friday truly feels like crucifixion weather. Damned if you do and damned if you don't.

Do what? Don't what?

Wear a face mask or don't? Stay indoors or don't?

Be patient or don't. Don't complain? Stay silent?

As the corona virus mutates into three distinct strains - our only current world traveler and globe trotter has outpaced us all and is wearing us down with each passing day.

I have been reading books about conservation - nature, humans, how we collide and connect. Recently I realized that I was reading them because I wanted one to tell me how to piece back our world and our lives. Before this brink of extinction.

In my dreams, I journey in other dimensions. I dream that my life is still afloat and undecided, that it is still conceivable we will come out okay.

I don’t dream of a time that has never existed, neither do I dream of our recovery. I dream of soaking in bright sunshine. I dream of floating in warm waters. I dream of clean air and a soft sweet breeze.

I wish our shared time will simply go on.

Then I open my eyes and wake to this pain.

I cling to dream time for as long as I can before I forget.