care, in a time of panic
i left my home city and moved to this mountainous state on the fall equinox in 2017. so this spring equinox 2020 - marked here by a sudden half foot of snow, already melting quickly into my garden - means it’s been two and a half years of this migration, this relocation, this reckoning with what “home” means anyway.
like so many others, i have spent much of the last two weeks watching the coronavirus spread across the globe. all of a sudden so many of us are in need of care and community, as we are being told to deny ourselves connection in the name of community.
turns out, this just means that we get to be creative about connection and community. we have text chains checking in on each other, offering meals or extra cough syrup. an herbalist friend dropped two bottles of homebrewed tinctures off their balcony for me to catch. tomorrow, i’ll leave some freshly fed sourdough starter on a friend’s b&b porch in exchange for his mother’s yogurt starter. facetime dates with friends and family near and far.
more importantly, all of us staying home, as much as possible, is an act of global community - for the health care providers in hospitals and clinics, for our elders and loved ones at risk, for the epidemiologists who are furiously testing and counting and mapping.
i’m finding that my displacement prepared me for this kind of creativity. i’ve made friends with my anxiety and loneliness, just as i have with my joy and groundedness. i’m leaning back into the patterns of care and nourishment that i’ve been learning and practicing over the last two and a half years, the idea that home and community can be global.
this kind of global movement brings out the best and the worst in us as humans, i believe. our fear can make us xenophobic, hoarding, reactive, yes. but we also become more empathetic, more caring, more collective. and we can keep choosing to care for ourselves and each other.
a few medicines for this spring equinox, for antiviral care, for ourselves and our community:
stay home. keep at least 6 feet of distance between you and others.
breathe. move your body. laugh. cry. walk outside. drink water. have orgasms. rest. wash your hands. cook and freeze a pantry soup.
be gentle with yourself.
try a dance meditation, or a seated meditation
find and make moments of comfort and joy.