Spacious Solidarity Blog: Day 4
For this first time this week I sleep in, which is good because last night it took me ages to knock off after talking with my father. I lay in bed feeling my heart racing and surges of energy pulsing through the body.
I know what this is.
My threat system has now been fully activated and adrenaline and cortisol are pumping through me. I breath deeply and bring my awareness to the sensations of my body on the mattress, imagining the earth below me. I feel into the stillness there, a welcome alternative to the waves washing through me. Eventually I fall asleep.
I wake to my partner bringing me coffee in bed. A daily routine, made more precious by the loss of so many other daily routines. I take my time over it, resisting the urge to pick up the phone and start scrolling through the morning headlines. I know what will be there. Last night they announced schools will be closed by Friday, except for children of key workers.
In meditation we chant seed syllables associated with the chakras and elements. I sense into the feeling of each syllable in my body as I chant. They come as a welcome counterbalance to what is unfolding in different parts of mind and body.
Earth, stability, meets and stills restless thoughts.
Water, flow, meets and clears murky, stuck parts.
Fire, heat and energy, meets and melts cold denial and numbness.
Air, movement, meets and blows through inertia.
Space, spaciousness, meets and softens contraction.
Consciousness, openness, clarity and sensitivity, meets and resolves narrowing.
I start working and my sister calls. She works as an ICU nurse at a hospital in downtown Boston. She can sleep in an extra 20 mins now because there is no traffic on her morning commute. No traffic in Boston on a weekday morning!? It really is the end of times.
But how wonderful that at least one healthcare worker can sleep in an extra 20 mins. Then she tells me she still has to ride a crowded shuttle from her parking garage to the hospital. I ask her why she can’t park at the hospital. Because they charge $40 a day. This is where we’ve got to.
She tells me she no longer recognises her male colleagues who have shaved their beards so the face masks can fit firmly. She tells me they look like little boys now. I imagine she can see more clearly their vulnerability, no longer hidden behind facial hair. The beard - a universal symbol for male strength and wisdom. Now they are stripped clean, revealing the man behind the curtain.
Later I talk to a friend in Manchester. Her neighbours have put a flyer through her mail slot offering any help she may need, with their contact details.
When we get off the phone I notice my partner has left the flat. I vaguely remember them telling me they would be going out to mail their mum a mother’s day card and pick up some provisions. Regardless I start to panic. Then I have to remind myself there is no reason to be worried.
They come home 10 mins later with frozen three cheese vegan pizza and other essentials and not-so-essentials from the health food shop like tempeh, tampons, veggie sausages, tooth-paste, Tony’s Chocolonely, beer, chili powder, and air freshener.
I tell them they need to text me if they are going out and I am on the phone. They need to tell me where they are going with an estimated time of return. I have become a dictator in my own home. I am an ENTJ in the Myer’s Briggs personality scheme. I was born for this.
They tell me the store was a crowded mess, the workers struggling to keep the aisles stocked. Meanwhile, the pubs, restaurants and cafes are still full of people. Old men in Weatherspoon’s. I imagine their conversations; part comic relief, part cynicism, part conspiracy therorising, part willful ignorance, part unapologetic, brazen rebellion. But when they say goodnight, they think to themselves this may be the last time. How will they keep from getting lonely?
The vegan pizza is disgusting. A sad, oily mess of an attempt at the real thing. I eat as much as I can and guiltily toss the rest.
Later we hang out together on our laptops reading the news and catching up on Facebook. Boris is saying this will all be done and dusted in 12 weeks with no details of how, while at the same time we are getting reports of a possible lockdown in London.
Back in bed it’s happening again, the fast beating heart, the energy rising. But this time it’s mixed with anger, and I can feel it, and it feels good to feel it, even if it’s almost unbearable. I am holding myself in this and reminding myself of the grief cycle, which I have been aware of and talking about for days. I’m cycling through it again and I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I remember what a friend on the phone said recently about being ok with things not being ok.
Can I be ok with things not being ok? I realise the question isn’t about whether I can. The question is how. Before figuring that one out, I’m fast asleep.