Lessons from a Virus

 

Photo from the March 2020 newsletter of https://www.rightuseofpower.org/

 Like everyone else, I am trying to adjust to a new life back home here in Portland, Oregon, with orders from the governor to stay at home.  On the one hand it isn’t so different from the way I was living before since I work from home, live alone, am an introvert and love solitude.  Still, there are things that I love that I can’t do right now:  group walks and hikes, meeting friends for coffee/meals, attending worship and coffee hour, going to arts events, shopping at Macys, etc. etc.  Luckily we have technology that lets us see each other and keep in touch, and though it isn’t the same as being face to face, we can still stay connected and keep our work going.  Most painful for me is that all my trips to events that I was so looking forward to have been cancelled or postponed.  I may not get to see my adopted daughter, green sea turtle "coota" Glitter Mittens, get released back into the ocean in Georgia.  And it will be interesting to see how we do a massive national digital rally for the Poor People’s Campaign on June 20.

I have learned through my own life experience that even in a dark time, there are still gifts that are being offered to us.  One of the real benefits of this time for me has been all the spiritual teachers and healers and writers stepping forward to offer their podcasts and webinars and resources for free.  Now instead of walking with my group of friends, I walk alone listening to a podcast.  A friend sent me the newsletter of The Right Use of Power Institute, which I had never heard of, and found their articles on wrestling with this time of fear and not knowing very helpful.  (See the end of this post) 

Although my activism hasn’t slowed down at all with all the petitions being circulated now and the (even greater) needs of the farm and low-wage workers I advocate for, I feel a new spaciousness and commitment to nurturing my own spirit through daily spiritual practices such as walking, gardening, writing, gratitude, compassion, and making personal phone calls.  I urge you to do the same and offer this 7 Day Guide to Gratitude by Diana Butler Bass as a good antidote to everything that is happening.  (I as write this, a crow is gathering small branches off my neighbor's tree and a pair of mallard ducks have shown up in my yard (no body of water nearby!), reminding me that it is nesting time and life goes on.)

I am cautiously optimistic that we will come out of this stronger as a nation, that more people will embrace compassion as a way of acting in the world, and that we will enact policies on a permanent basis that support the well-being of people, especially poor people, and the planet over profit.  Check out this new video from author and activist Naomi Klein who explains that this time of “shock” can result in the impossible suddenly becoming possible.

As cocooning is forced on me, I take time to think of the ways in which I was living in a self-imposed exile.  A lovely song by Claude McKenzie “Assikuman-Tetapuakan” (The Metal Chair) is sung in Innu, and tells the story of a man who assesses his life.  He sits on a metal chair that represents his troubled memories.  He thinks of lost loved ones and understands that he must stop waiting for the return of his love.  He then looks out the window and perceives that the ice is melting.  He wants to run away and hide but he decides to continue to fight the opposing forces that confine him.  He will never sit down on this metal chair again.[1]

My prayer is that when this time of crisis is over, we will come out of our cocoons, throw out our metal chairs, and commit ourselves anew to the practice of love, compassion and nonviolence for all beings and the planet. 

Today

By Beah Richards  

Today is ours, let’s live it.

And love is strong, let’s give it.

A song can help, let’s sing it.

And peace is dear, let’s bring it.

The past is gone, don’t rue it.

Our work is here, let’s do it.

Our world is wrong, let’s right it.

The battle hard, let’s fight it.

The road is rough, let’s clear it.

The future vast, don’t fear it.

Is faith asleep? Let’s wake it.

Today is ours. Let’s take it!

---

[1] From Putumayo Presents, Native America, CD liner notes

 

Happy New Year 2020

Love from me, hanging with the sea turtles on Jekyll Island, Georgia

December 31, 2019
updated January 5, 2020

I told everyone I was leaving Portland to spend the winter in Mexico.  That’s mostly true, but what I failed to say is that first, I am spending 2 weeks on Jekyll Island, Georgia.

I guess I didn’t disclose that part because 1) I love the quiet here and I don’t want everyone in the world to come here and ruin it for me; and 2) West coast people are blissfully unaware of the South, it seems.  The few times I mentioned it, people looked at me blankly, as if I were talking about Soviet Georgia.  No, Georgia, USA, you know?   Jekyll Island, formerly the haunt of the rich, is now thankfully accessible to us ordinary people, and much much more down to earth than say, Hilton Head.  And home to the Georgia Sea Turtle Center which provides medical care and rehabilitation for sea turtles whom they name and display their story of catastrophe and salvation on each of their individual rehabilitation pools.  Who can resist donating or just loving them up?*

I have new turtle earrings, a turtle necklace and a greeting card of turtles from around the world.  I guess turtles are my thing, come to think of it.  I had a tragedy early in life involving a turtle, which I won’t go into here.  Maybe they are my totem; I did see a quite large turtle on the side of the road last June in Wyoming while I was on my way from Custer, SD to Devils Tower National Monument.  What in the world was he doing there?  Although there weren’t many cars on that particular stretch of highway, I worried that he just wouldn’t make it across, if that was where he was headed.  (Later, someone said I should have picked him up and escorted him across the road.  Really?)  Actually, I would have liked to have taken him home, but I don’t really have the means to care for him properly.  But he blessed my life, for sure, and I pray that he is all right.

So, 2019.  My god, what a year!  I guess every year is momentous in its way; but this year was sheer grace and miracle.  It started in 2018 when a Man at Church asked me to house a Speaker he had invited to our church.  Sure, I said.  I have space.  Happy to help out.  A week before the event, Man at Church said, “I hope you’ll be all right, Connie,” alluding to the Speaker being in my house overnight.  Massive PTSD ensued for me; what was he implying?  That I would be raped and murdered in my own bed, and by a highly educated white man and national figure in the progressive camp, someone YOU asked me to house?  What the, what the f---?  

2013 Holiday Blessings

 

Me at Disibodenberg, Germany in November 2013

2013 Holiday Blessings

There are years that ask the questions, and years that answer.    – Zora Neale Hurston

I have often reflected in my annual holiday letter that the year has been the usual mix of blessings and curses.  But for me, 2013 has been nothing short of miraculous blessings.  The impossible just takes a little time!

Some of the blessings came out of the blue – grace many people would call it – and some were the result of very hard work on my part.  But even when I knew I was working hard and participating, there still seemed to be an element of grace in the result.  For instance, I scoured Portland for months seeking the right house, and just when I thought I would never find one for the price I wanted to pay, a house more perfect than I thought existed appeared.  And I am very happy in it today.