March, I had a feeling about you. I felt it coming. At work, I spent the second half February doubled down, preparing things long before they were due. At home, I began to pull away from habits. I avoided long term commitments and that which I did commit to, I had the sense that they were beyond reach. I don’t think this was a psychic premonition, and I don’t think I was the only one. We all watched for weeks as the rest of the world experienced this peculiar virus. It played out like a netflix series right up until it showed up on our front door and invited itself in.
Now we’ve tumbled through the bizarre pace of March. We cycle through this piece of history, that which is framed by the four walls of our homes, but also one that is expanding, like breath as we reach out in empathy through the abandoned streets of the world. In my frantic effort to figure things out I’ve clung to the written word tighter and tighter, letting them lead the way like a flashlight in the dark. I sit ferociously each morning, writing jumbled words by hand.
All of that is to say this will not be my first or last blog on this topic. Nor will any of it likely make sense… because none of it… makes any sense.
March has taught me a bit about faith and a lot of surrender. I have had to put faith in my government, faith in my employer, faith in humanity and faith in myself. And I have to say: it is humanity that has not let me down. We all have to do the right thing at the right time and for everyone everywhere this looks a bit different.
I have had to separate from a lot of the things that brought me joy, some I miss sometimes, but most I don’t. I’ve had to walk away from an online argument with anignorant “influencer” promoting her corona-cation to others. I’ve had to surrender my constant need to help others to retreat into my own sanctuary, something I feel guilty about. All petty sacrifices in the big picture but I have also seen some pretty inspirational acts of sacrifice and surrender. There are first responders and minimum wage earners who surrender their own safety so we can have what we need. Then there are seamstresses who have suspended careers to sew masks for those who serve us. I have watched a prison warden disinfecting a small room from bottom to top before I could enter it, and honestly, it wasn’t for my sake but for the hundreds of vulnerable inmates within. I have watched us stand 6 feet apart in a loving and orderly fashion, standing outside the store just waiting and hoping to get at least half of our grocery list.
And that is just within my small island community.
So dang it, we are doing it. This has been messy to say the least, a lot of spillage from one cup to another as work becomes home, as fear becomes faith, as friends become FaceTime, as life turns to loss, as we surrender to whatever this is and lift each other up as much as we can.
Ahead we have April, a tightrope stretched to the unknown where we have no choice but to put one foot ahead of the other, one straight line to the other side. And I hope and I pray that it leads us to the end of this. We all have a place. We all have an experience and soul worth marking these walls with so thank you for reading to the end of these words.
PS: shout out to Taryn of Bitty Bambu, one of the generous seamstresses putting her heart and hands into healing the world. You can read about what she is doing here. Proud to say I’ve done work for her and already knew what a badass she was.