I had just come back from town and the market where I “stocked up,” upon recommendation of a friend from my village. I’d run into her in the zócalo and she told me the sobering news that on Monday our tiendas are going to be closed. I have felt quite fortunate to live where I do during this time. If the local stores close, that brings the Coronavirus scare even closer to home than it already is.
I returned home and sprayed my keys, coins, backpack and shopping bag with the lavender disinfectant I’d made. Next order of business: I took off the clothes that had perhaps touched someone on the combi or brushed against a shopper or vender in the market – and hung them on the line in the sun. Then I set to disinfecting the produce I’d purchased. This time, not just to kill any bacteria from water the fruits and vegetable might have been sprayed with. At the top of my mind was that surely the venders had touched the fruit or greens and who knows if they might have it? In batches, I let the produce soak in the tub I use for that. Fortunately, the mountain spring water that comes via garden hose was trickling sufficiently today to at least disinfect my food. Washing clothes would have to wait.
I felt humble joy and grief that even at this rough time, I could engage with such beauty and goodness.
Such is the grief I feel today. Confronting my inner tyrant and the fear and estrangement happening in the world around, I wonder how the inner reflects the outer and vice versa. How hurt and lonely is the earth, and are we as humans? How have we left ourselves, left one another, been left?
How hurt and lonely is the earth,
and are we as humans?
How have we left ourselves,
left one another, been left?
Within. Without. Between.
And you, do you dare? Do you dare say no? I invite you to share about your journey and experience at this time in the comments below.
What do we do to care for the earth, one another, ourselves now that we’ve arrived where we are, at this break, this crevasse that has opened up on the very ground we walk on?