Day 662…
With Joan Didion’s passing, I’ve been thinking about her quote about simply living in the world, accepting what it is, rather than what it could be, and living recklessly in it. How many times have we done something because it was expected of us rather than something we wanted to do ourselves? How many times have we not done something that we wanted to do because of the fear of how it would look or what others might think?
We find ourselves at a moment where the whole world is freaking out at the same time. The latest variant of the now familiar new pathogen spreading among us has figured out yet another way to replicate and disperse. We all spent this past year getting vaccinated or not getting vaccinated, masking or not masking, distancing or not distancing and this new version doesn’t seem to care about any of it. It’s going where it chooses. We thought we had a handle on it all, and it turns out we don’t.
This morning, Michael and I are on our own. We are together, warm, (although Michael would like to set the thermostat a degree or two higher and I won’t let him) healthy, and we have a meal ahead of us to look forward to. Just that alone puts us decidedly in the minority.
All we can do, I think, in light of everything that is going on, is decide to live our lives according to what is truly in our hearts. Living recklessly does not mean living dangerously even though at any given moment we risk making a mistake. It also shouldn’t mean doing whatever we want at someone else’s expense. Living recklessly should mean deciding what to do without the fear and anxiety that all too often guides us into actions and ways of thinking that aren’t what we want or need. We only have so much time allotted to us in this lifetime. If there is an afterlife, why would we want to spend a second of it regretting what we didn’t do in this one?
There are consequences to every single action that we take. We create ripples and eddies as we move forward. Even so, that’s not a reason to stay still.
All along, I’ve thought that this coming spring would be the time that we would start building up again. The only reason I’ve thought that is because so far, this virus has mirrored the one that proliferated almost exactly a hundred years ago. This winter, like the one they experienced back then, always looked as though it was going to be difficult. Will we see our strain subside in the spring the way that theirs did then? I don’t know, nobody KNOWS, but it seems as if it might. We have the advantage of having a vaccine for our version but given the massive reluctance to use it by so many, we are probably destined to follow the Spanish flu’s unvaccinated path to the bitter end. It looks like everything is going to get a bit worse before it starts getting better. But there is no reason to think that it won’t get better.
Michael and I made the decision to travel this holiday season after an endless series of back-and-forth conversations. The two guys we were going to travel with made the decision not to come. I THINK that all our reasonings on both sides were sound. I understand why they didn’t come and I, at least in this moment, stand by our decision to come. Where we are, we are basically isolated. There are far fewer people around us here than there would have been back home in New York City. Was it the right decision? It was the right decision at the moment we made it because I feel as if we did it thoughtfully and calmly. We looked at where the ripples and eddies of our deciding to come here might go and felt that we wouldn’t do any more harm here than we might do at home.
Slack water is the moment when the water is completely unstressed because the tide is changing directions - it’s when the surface is usually at its most serene and flat. Slack water is the breath between actions.
Despite the little flurry of work that I had this summer, this time all feels like a slack tide in my career path. I’m changing direction, but I don’t yet have a sense of which way it’s going to go. The only thing that I know is that it won’t be what it was, and I am more than fine with that. I took as full advantage as I could of everything that was open to me over the course of the last couple of decades. I will try to do the same with whatever comes my way in the new world ahead.
For now, though, this holiday season finds me floating around in circles on a flat, unbroken surface of water without any currents to guide me. As lost as I sometimes feel. I am also grateful for this moment of serenity because I know that it’s not going to last.
The tide is relentless. We can’t change it, so why not just dive in and swim?
It’s pouring down rain outside here where we are, but church bells have been heralding the day all morning. Michael snuck the thermostat up a degree when I wasn’t looking but then he admitted it. I’m grateful - for that and for all of it. And for him.
May the coming year unfold with grace. May we all be able to see a path forward without the brambles and thorns of anxiety and fear. May we all stay healthy and safe. May we all be able to celebrate what we have and not regret and mourn what we don’t. For those we've lost, may the joy of their existence outweigh the pain of their passing.
A very happy holiday to each and every one of you out there.
This was fantastic! In knowing where you and Michael are, I could visualize your narrative. Loved it!
Love this one. Really visual. Funny.