Spacious Solidarity Blog: Day 1
Last night my partner and I made the decision to self-isolate for an undetermined length of time. This was one day before the government finally suggested everyone do the same.
I am recovering from cancer treatment and feel particularly vulnerable. And I also don’t want to spread the virus to anyone else in case I am carrying it. They are saying you can be asymptomatic and still spread it to others.
My whole extended family lives in the US. I don’t know when I am going to see them again.
This morning we meditated together for the first time in years. We are both Buddhists, but normally our schedules are so different that we gave up finding time to sit together years ago. In meditation, awareness is drawn to the sensations where the body meets the earth. I feel the pull of gravity. The earth weighing me down. She seems to be saying, stay here and stay still. Let stillness nourish you. Now is the time to stop all you’ve been doing and rest deeply. For your own benefit and that of everyone else.
We are all in a perpetual dance with the earth as she holds us in place. We pull away, she pulls us back.
Other sensations while meditating: the warmth of the sun on my face, bird song (they are as happy as ever, it’s the start of spring after all), energy rising in the body. All this is deeply pleasant and I dwell in it. The body softens. Then back to the ground and the stillness there.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the earth. How we’ve thrown her out of balance with all our designs on living a better, happier life. We’ve been sucking her dry for centuries now. Over-farming, over-fishing, extracting all we can to meet an endless demand for more and more energy.
We’ve also been treating animals like objects to be bought and sold. Raised to be killed and eaten. No wonder it’s come to this. No wonder.
Perhaps this is her way of asking us to slow the fuck down and consider the consequences.
We spent most of the day making arrangements. For working and teaching and eating. Everything’s going online but we can’t eat our broadband so we await our last food order. There are now no more slots for future deliveries.
How long until the corner shop runs out of essentials?
At dusk we decide to take a walk. There isn’t a ban on that yet. The colour green is just about to burst forth. Dogs are acting like nothing’s changed. The park is empty. A huge football field in the middle of London on a Monday evening in spring, abandoned. A man walks past us wearing doc martin’s, a black, full length trench coat, and a white cowboy hat that is blaring music and pulsing with rainbow colours.
“My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
My Bonnie lies over the sea.
My Bonnie lies over the ocean.
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me.
Bring back, Bring back,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me, to me.
Bring back, Bring back,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me.”
I wonder if that is about 20 seconds worth of hand-washing lyrics.
We head home under fading light and the sound of the food delivery truck door slamming shut. We’ll survive another day.