Coronavirus Days--Week 29

When I skip several weeks, I have to return to the previous blog to capture the number and continue my count. When I started this blog series, way back in late March, I figured I would chronicle my experiences, weekly, for awhile, but not for an undetermined number of weeks, months, and perhaps years. And some weeks, I don't have the psychic space to reflect, don't have the energy, or a Sunday evening arrives, and (gasp) I have a social plan, as occurred one week. 

Since I last blogged, Ruth Bader Ginsburg died and within that span of night to day, my reaction moved from a series of fuck texts with friends to a mindset more akin with her spirit, one of fight, one of what would RBG do. I took a two week intensive fast flash course which consisted of writing a flash fiction piece daily for ten days (I confess I ran out of steam/inspiration for the final piece), and while that had me writing several hours most nights, after a day of focusing on my classes, I felt energized and connected to myself in ways I have missed, so much so, that I signed up for an eight week experimental/hybrid Lighthouse Writers Workshop with one of my fave teachers, on Zoom, synchronous for two hours a week, starting in late October, something I swore I wouldn't do since I hated so much computer time. Some things change, and some things don't. Innocent black men and women are still being shot by the police, often, such as Jonathan Price yesterday, showing constantly the crisis of racism that has existed for centuries in this country. So much horror, so much heartbreak, so many things daily that make 2020 a year that feels more difficult than any year I've encountered.

And of course, that guy who pretends to be the leader of our country contracted the coronavirus, and 2020 continues to tilt topsy turvy as the media spins in all directions, and trust is clearly eroded as we get tweets of wellness and photo ops continuing to endanger people, as if this is one big joke. Which it is not. Numbers of cases climb over 7 million for the United States, and deaths climb over 1 million for the world. People continue to get sick. People continue to die. I am not surprised, but I am still horrified. There is no room for numbness. There is no room to fall asleep, even if winter is coming and a cave looks like a fine place to escape, for awhile, a long while.


But like you, I can't escape, at least not for long periods that erase the present. So, for my sanity, I still walk Whitman. I still stare at the sky from my hammock. Food and playing in the kitchen still help me stay rooted in a present that isn't all pandemic. But what truly soothes is when I get out, away to a different vista, as I did yesterday with a hiking pal. Waterton Canyon, a 12 mile round trip hike within an hour of Denver, can be brutal in the heat, but yesterday, it was cool wind to start with a needed fleece and layers, and by the end, a t shirt was enough. In these moments the world doesn't feel so dismal when I have the privilege to gaze upon beauty.





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