It’s snowing today in Portland.
Pi day and I’m at the pie shop. Random order Pie Bar. I’m not sick, but most people are staying home from work next week and I’m worried because I’m not because I don’t have a computer. Mine just broke. Hard drive death.
Whew.
Corona flurry.
I find myself returning to headlines and articles. I get saturated. Something new closed. There’s an argument for why it should close sooner or stay open longer. There’s another event being hosted online instead of in person. Cancelled in person. Stay connected. Isolate. The market crashes. The country is breaking open its piggy bank. Where would that money have gone otherwise? Where will we be in months from now? My eyes hurt, the speculating gives me a headache. Right here and now I am good, we are good, the people I hold most dearly are raising up prayers and visions of peace. I have love in my heart. The response to this new unknown starts in me. The unknown becomes a playground of possibility. I am sober and alive.
I’m putting stuff off. Attached to doing this work I keep putting off. Car needs repair. Computer needs replacing. I know I’ve been putting off my taxes, but now I don’t have a computer. I keep meaning to go mattress shopping. I have resources but I fear I am mismanaging them. Where will they be in a few weeks? Am I fulfilling needs or inflating my lifestyle? I am ashamed of decadence. Self discipline is so much self inflicted hurting. Negative reinforcement. Stay warm stay fed. Wash your hands.
The thoughts come in cycles. The worries take turns. I’m thinking about my car now. The ignition has been ruined for weeks and I took apart the console to try and fix it and now it won’t go back in. Also the front tire is low. Maybe flat.
I’m thinking about escapism. Having drinks or eating sugar, snacks, playing old video games, drinking coffee just for the weekend buzz. Visions are tantalizing, and cycles of shame wave in and out. I consider that the pleasure of purchasing is within me, so I put my wallet down. I turn to writing. This feels like safe escapism which is record keeping which is also a safe form of expression. Which is free, which is healthy and productive and creatively nourishing for myself and for others. Writing is resonant with my heart and my hands. Here I am, writing.
I also haven’t done my taxes. Telling myself I will when I get my new laptop. There’s one in the mail, but it’s refurbished and 5 years old. I thought a lot about this. I fear being swindled or mistaken. I also fear purchasing a new machine out of fear. My pride fears advice. I like to believe money can build a repair economy where it can. I believe money represents energy (and so also time) more than it represents gold. Every dollar is a vote. Every vote is energy bringing ideas into life. I believe I can encourage quality over quantity with my dollar.
So I am home. So it is Saturday. The house is quiet and there is a gentle camaraderie. We are baking cookies and watching Frozen 2.
Another friend says she is flying back from Colorado soon. She says we can watch the world fall apart with instruments in our hands. I am learning Pink Floyd’s “Time” today. It resonates with the quiet recreational moments framed by the fleeting nature of mortality. Today I reckon with the dread and the joy of being alive and at least one kind of temporary. I believe that in this mindspace there is fertility for reverence.
Stay warm, Beloved. Keep your lanterns lit. Maybe watch Frozen 2 if you like. Disney released it 3 months early just for this pandemic. Historic gesture, if you ask me.
Peace,
Riley
No comments:
Post a Comment