COVID Calm

Yesterday I was taking a walk on the lake. It was a cloudy, misty day and there weren’t many of us out there. I was trying to cram a power walk in before a meeting so I was speeding along the lake. I passed a woman who was moseying, seemingly without a care in the world in the middle of the day on a rainy Wednesday.

As I passed the woman I instinctively turned to see who it was. She was wearing a mask and a hoodie. She looked a little bit like she was gearing up to rob a bank. But I knew her. “Hi!” I said, surprised to see her in the middle of a workday. 

“Hi,” she said, from behind her mask.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“I have COVID,” she said. “It’s not bad,” she explained, “the vaccine really works! I’m tired but I just needed to get outside and get some fresh air.”

When she first told me she had COVID, I instinctively stepped away from her. But then, registering that she had a mask and we were outside, I righted my reaction and stepped forward again. 

We talked a little bit, normal chit-chat, not really about COVID. We didn’t talk about where she got it or who she might have exposed. We didn’t spend a lot of time on her symptoms. We talked mostly about her dog who’d recently died; about which neighborhood vet we liked the best.

We’ve turned a corner. There was a time when we all wore masks outside. We stepped away from each other all the time, assuming that COVID was everywhere. We talked about it constantly.

We’ve entered the era of COVID calm. The virus is out there. Some people get it. And, for the most part, those who are vaccinated seem to weather the virus well. But we’re not collectively freaking out anymore.

Ahhhh. Such a relief. Last week I went to a concert at a huge venue — thousands of people. Most were wearing masks, but many were not. They were drinking beer or eating snacks or just not wearing their masks.

For a moment, while at the concert, I thought to myself, “Holy shit, what the hell am I doing? This is crazy!” And then I calmed down. COVID is out there. I was certainly putting myself at greater risk by going to the concert. But it was a calculated risk. I am vaccinated. We have a vaccination requirement for public spaces in my state. I was aware, I am aware, that if I get COVID, I will likely be okay.

It is only in hindsight that I remember how crazy I was before. COVID was all I talked about. The other important things in the world — the climate, racial and economic injustice, sexism, homophobia — all that stuff took a back burner to COVID. 

I made my partner stay in an Air B & B after coming home from a funeral last year because I was convinced she had COVID. I was living in a state of constant fear and anxiety. And now I’m not. I’m calm about COVID. I’m still vigilant. I follow the rules. I weigh my risks. But overall I’m calm.

I’m grateful to be on this side of the COVID anxiety continuum. Yesterday when I saw my friend, my COVID positive friend, walking on the lake, I saw clearly how far I’ve come, how far we’ve come. COVID is not the monster it once was. It’s more like a persistent rodent, hanging around, feeding on loose scraps. If we put away all the food and plug up all the access points in the house, it won’t get in. 

People are getting boosters and the kids are going to be vaccinated soon. Things are only going to get better from here. It looks like maybe we getting to the other side of COVID. I still worry about the spread of COVID — about the many people who won’t get vaccinated. But I think even with those dumdums who leave the door open with old pizza and burgers on the counter, recklessly inviting the vermin in, we’re going to be okay. We’ve reached the era of COVID calm. 

COVID took us to the depths of fear and despair. It took us to a place none of us could have imagined. But we’re not there anymore. Maybe now we can focus on other things. We can put some energy into police reform and global warming, our education system, women’s reproductive freedom, and the insidious nature of social media. Maybe we can use this COVID calm, put it to good use and start to repair what is broken in the world. 

Big Feelings

I met Carol in a writing class. She was close to 70 and had a head full of shock-white hair. During each class we had to read our pieces aloud. When Carol read, she always sounded like Meryl Streep reading a book on tape. The first time I spoke to Carol was a break. I wanted to ask her about the commune she wrote about in an essay about her early life. I squatted down next to her and interrupted her as she flipped through her notebook. She nudged her reading classes up, angled her body slightly toward me, put her hand on my shoulder and looked down at me. I asked my question (something insignificant enough to forget already) and she answered me, never taking her hand off of my shoulder and never shifting her gaze from mine. The interaction was so brief yet I walked back to my seat wanting more. It was a couple days later that I realized that I didn't want more from Carol. I wanted more from myself. I wanted to be that grounded and calm and present.

I took the writing class in part to find a way to integrate all of the new feelings I was having as the result of some big life changes (moving, divorce, parenting) I'd experienced in recent years. I am on a road trip through the land of feelings. My emotions are all over the map- happy, melancholy, nostalgic, angry, mountains, hills and plains. At Lucia's preschool, they call all range of emotional expression "big feelings". I love this term to describe the emotional state of kids. We often have no idea what a 4-year-old is thinking. It's all just a morass of sensations they are trying to figure out. As adults, all we can really do is help the kids to name it. "It's okay honey, you've got big feelings about that toy (or that friend or that blanket or that apple)." I use the term "big feelings" for myself too. I even refer to "big feelings" when I am teaching yoga. It makes sense. Most of the time grown-ups can't decipher what's going on in their heads any more than kids can.

I've always been really good at dealing with physical discomfort. Rigorous chores, 42-hours of labor without meds, lack of sleep, hunger. I'm told that I have an incredible pain threshold and good stamina. But with emotional discomfort I am remedial at best. This past week I was having one of many bouts of big feelings. It felt messy, like the junk was seeping all over the sidewalk. While trying to "manage" my big feelings, Carol popped into my head. Her silver hair, her melodic voice, her clear, calm blue eyes. What would Carol do? She'd put her hand on my shoulder, look me in the eyes, and in her Meryl Streep voice remind me, "It's okay Laura. You've got some big feelings right now."

Nobody gives a F$%! about your blog

"Nobody gives a F$%! about your blog" used to be my favorite t-shirt slogan. Then my psychic told me that I should be writing about yoga. "But who the hell am I to be writing about yoga?" I thought to myself as soon as the words left her mouth. Though I remain unsure of this process and this medium for expression, I am pushing through my ambivalence because maybe, in the process of writing about what I don't know, I will learn something about what I do know.

I have two favorite expressions--- "All feelings pass" and "Yoga makes you you."
The first one was used on me by a therapist when I was in the depths of my darkest hour. Deep deep depths. She was a batty, boundary-less cuckoo, and exactly what I needed at that time in my life. She'd call me dear heart and drape big afghans over my whole body and offer me diet Pepsi. AND, she said to me at a moment when every fiber of my being was in crisis, "All feelings pass." And she was right. They do. They pass when we let them pass. They pass because we give them the space to pass.

This brings me to my next favorite expression--- "Yoga makes you you."It took me many years to fully understand that yoga has opened a pathway to seeing my true self. If you have an over-active brain like I do, yoga is not a luxury. It is a necessity. Yoga, while it is the union of mind and body, is also a place to rest the mind and live through the body. For me, getting into postures helps me get out of my head. For me, the experience is almost visceral. As soon as I lie down on my mat, I breathe a sigh of relief because I know what is coming. I know that I am going to get a break. Ironic that I will be working my ass off, sweating myself silly, but it is a break. I get to be still in my head while my body moves. In all of the physical movement, feelings are passing and I am getting clear. In these moments, I am me.