April…. So unstable.
Spring snow showers visit again.
Mourning doves puff up as they sit on the white-blanketed ground.
Hunkered down, they seem to know this is not a time to search.
The sun and warmth will return. Most likely, sooner rather than later.
Another friend hospitalized with the virus.
Some continue to wonder why this is such a big deal.
Like the doves, I am hunkered down. I, too, have stopped searching.
I follow my breath in daily yoga. My teacher, friend, colleague buried her husband in January. Still the snow falls.
Song lyrics, “Why do the birds go on singing? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?”
But it is not.
Spring snow showers are evidence it is spring.
What will I remember most about this time? I will remember the precious moments of connection.
Pimpled-faced youth, watching my masked face from behind the storm door. Setting the pizza boxes down, taking the dollars I had left in the plastic container that my favorite gum comes in. “Stay safe,” he says, walking back down the porch steps and heading to his car. I hope people are generous to him.
We have been pizza hungry. Usually our last meal on Pine Island is a good-bye dinner at Ragged Ass with friend Nancy, who stays behind, returning to Michigan sometime around Mother’s Day.
I carefully wrapped the left-overs in two separate packages and place them in the freezer.
Likely, we will be hungry for pizza again before this is over.
I hope I will remember how grateful I feel about so many things. Grateful the dishwasher now both fills and empties. Grateful the washing machine does not leak. Grateful water is no longer dripping from the bottom of the water heater.
Soon, I hope, I will be grateful the toilet in the guest bath can be flushed without having to turn the water off down at the floor to prevent it from continuing to run.
Already grateful for the precious commodities that get delivered to my porch. Easter dinner, daffodils, tea ordered from Target, and a sewing machine (with fabric and elastic). I will begin sewing masks.
I may remember those who survived the virus, and individuals who did not. Both contribute to our well-being. Each is helping this virus find the sweet spot, where parasite and host co-exist.
Meditation and prayer, yoga, chanting, writing, and ZOOMING — witnessing it all — everything helping us to find the sweet spot, where fear and frustration co-exist with hope and trust.
Spring snow showers are short-lived….
Many of you will find the Easter Message with Jeshua (channeled by Barbara Brodsky) uplifting, so I am sharing it with all.
