"NO MAN IS AN ISLAND"

It's one of those days again, one of those uniquely American days when a death has been caused by unjustified violence.  ("Another Week of Shootings," 8/4/19)  Just when we were feeling like maybe our emotions could handle the pandemic better than we had hoped.  Just when we had our new routines down and were finding our balance.  

Not a shooter this time, but a police officer pressing his knee into the back of the neck of a man in handcuffs lying face-down on the ground.  Pressing with his full weight while the man pleaded: "Please.  I can't breath." Over and over.  Pressing for at least 5 minutes until there was no pulse.  Then 3 minutes more. Inexplicable. The whole world by now has seen the videos.  The man who was killed was black, the officer white.  This happened on Monday, Memorial Day.

While the rest of us were improvising our holiday, Derek Chauvin had George Floyd pinned to the asphalt, crushed under the weight of this officer who had a history of conduct complaints.  Mr. Floyd was being arrested for suspicion of spending a counterfeit $20 bill at a deli, a misdemeanor.  Minneapolis is angry.  So are other communities.  The Third Precinct where Chauvin worked was burned last night.  Tonight the protestors kneel with hands raised and chant "George Floyd, George Floyd."  But the CNN building in Atlanta is being defaced as I write.  Protest is our right.  Property damage is not.  Everything is complicated.  Nothing is simple. The protestors are all colors but more young than old.  Many wear homemade masks in lieu of social distancing.  More of the strangeness of the times. 

Only a few of us can remember the 5 days of riots in Watts, Los Angeles in 1965; a few more the beating of Rodney King by police in 1992.  Today Chauvin was charged with murder.   

Why talk about this?  Or about the milestone of 100,000 people in the United States dead from the coronavirus? (We reached that grim number yesterday at 3:40 pm with a death in Illinois.)  After all, as long as we don't live in Minneapolis, as long as we aren't sick with the virus, I'm not impacted very much.  My granddaughter's  school team won 1st place in "Battle of the Books" today; I did Zoom Yoga; my husband got some work done.  We carried on. 

Of course we know why.  "No man is an island," as John Donne said way back in 1624. He was right.  We don't want a racial divide.  We don't want police brutality.  We don't want our buildings burning.  We don't want to pass a virus to our neighbors.  We don't want hungry children.  We want safe neighborhoods, full stomachs and good health.  And we want it for all of us.  I remember an old song sung by Helen Reddy,  You and Me Against the World.  But that's not really what our lives are like. Let's look instead at the meditation by John Donne:

"No Man is an Island" 
No man is an island entire of itself; 
every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, 
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were,
as well as any manner of thy friends or of thine own were; 
any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
it tolls for thee.   
MEDITATION XVII
John Donne

                                      From Nina Naomi

WHAT CONSOLES US?

2020 "Anything but Ordinary"

I've been tracking the coronavirus in my collage art.  It's a way of coping.  Everyone I hear from seems to share a way of coping or two.  Most include a little binge watching of something.  Baking, which I'm not good at, could win a contest.  My family plans to social distance with two other families, three cars and several canoes today.  But for me, collage art helps me both be creative and mourn.  

We're at such poles, aren't we?  Yesterday in a message thread I responded that the peace we're sharing would be so lovely if it weren't for the threat of a deadly virus.  We're, most of us, working hard at our resilience.  Maybe, like I wrote in "Life at a Deeper Level," 11/22/19, rather than return to where we were, post-traumatic growth will take hold.  Do you see some of that?  Changed priorities, a greater sense of personal strength, spiritual growth.

"Still Home but OK"

Most days I feel like this:  Still home but OK.  But sometimes I wonder why we have no national mourning.  Finally the New York Times, as we approach a death-toll of 100,000 in the US, listed their names.  Finally--but only because it's Memorial Day weekend--the flags are at half-staff.  As we cheer the hospital workers, I wish we would also collectively honor the dead.   

On those days when maybe we don't feel so much like we're OK, it may be because we identify with those who have lost someone. It isn't you; it isn't me; but it is someone.  Someone who couldn't take one more breath. That makes us the lucky ones.  I do feel that every day I'm not sick, don't you?  Lucky.

May 1 "Mapping Your World" 63,535 confirmed dead

In May I started to incorporate the number who have died in the US into my collage art.  Sort of to allow pause to pay my respects.  
 

May 14 "Light the Candles" 86,599 confirmed dead

May 23  98,182 confirmed dead

We go on.  I'm (thankfully) not in charge of anything. My neighbor is an internationally known leader in vaccine development.  God bless his team.  Other people are planning for safe schooling in the fall.  Many are trying to make ends meet at half-capacity . . . .  The people I know aren't the ones mingling in crowded pools with no thought for tomorrow. 

My job is among the easiest.  Stay home or wear a mask when out, safe-distance, wash my hands and take every precaution I can not to catch or spread this disease.  Be kind and show love at every opportunity. In that way can I respect and honor the dead and the living.  This consoles me.  I hope your role consoles you too.  Peace, Nina Naomi

THREE PRAYERS FOR THE PANDEMIC

Abbey of Gethsemani, Trappist, KY

This gate to a private part of the Abbey where Trappist Monk Thomas Merton (1915-1968) lived reminds us to rely upon God alone.  To God alone be the Glory.  But what it makes me think of is that God may be alone, but we are not.  You may have seen these prayers, but like many good things, they bear repeating.  The first one was chosen by a member of my church for the daily parishioner devotions that we began when gathering became unsafe.  See if these don't resonate with you.

May we who are merely inconvenienced
Remember those whose lives are at stake.

May we who have no risk factors
Remember those most vulnerable.

May we who have the luxury of working from home
Remember those who must choose between preserving their health or making their rent. 

May we who have the flexibility to care for our children when their schools close
Remember those who have no options.

May we who have to cancel our trips
Remember those who have no safe place to go.

May we who are losing our margin money in the tumult of the economic market
Remember those who have no margin at all.

May we who settle in for a quarantine at home
Remember those who have no home.

As fear grips our country, let us choose love.

During this time when we cannot physically wrap our arms around each other,
Let us yet find ways to be the loving embrace of God to our neighbors.

AMEN

This prayer is by Cameron Bellm, a Seattle mother of two and a member of her local Catholic parish.  The next one is more traditional and is from the Anglican New Zealand Prayer Book (1988).


For People Facing Great Uncertainty
God of the present moment,
God who in Jesus stills the storm and soothes the frantic heart;
bring hope and courage to your people as we wait in uncertainty.
Bring hope that you will make us the equal of whatever lies ahead.
Bring us courage to endure what cannot be avoided,
for your will is health and wholeness;
you are God, and we need you.

AMEN

I love the direct address to God as "God of the present moment."  That is where I want God to be.  The prayer is a pastoral liturgy to be prayed in crisis situations.  Another, for people watching at a death, begins "God of the Dark Night . . . ."  

One more prayer [with some editing], by the Right Rev. Richard Bott, Moderator (most senior elected official) of the United Church of Canada.  

A Prayer during times of COVID-19
In this time of COVID-19 we pray:
When we aren't sure God, help us be calm;
when information comes from all sides, correct and not, help us discern;
when fear makes it hard to breathe and anxiety seems to be the order of the day God, slow us down;
help us reach out with our hearts when we can't touch with our hands; 
help us be socially connected when we have to be socially distant;
help us love as perfectly as we can, knowing that "perfect love casts out all fear."

For the doctors we pray.
For the nurses we pray.
For the technicians and the janitors and the aides and the caregivers, we pray.
For the researchers and theorists, the epidemiologists and investigators,
for those who are sick and those who are grieving we pray.
For all who are affected all around the world . . .
we pray for safety, for health, for wholeness.

May we feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty,
clothe the naked and house those without homes;
may we walk with those who feel they are alone,
and may we do all we can to heal the sick--
in spite of the epidemic, in spite of the fear.

Help us O God that we might help each other.
In the love of the Creator, in the name of the Healer,
in the life of the Holy Spirit that is in all and with all, we pray.
May it be so.
AMEN

Yes, may it be so.  With care for us all, Nina Naomi

Andrea Del Sarto, Madonna and Child with St. John the Baptist, 1512

 









 

REVERSE BUCKET LIST

Photo by Pia Tryde

I've mentioned that I don't like the term "Bucket List" ("About Awe," 10/18/19), because it refers to "when I kick the bucket," i.e. when I drop dead.  There are some things I'd love to do in the future, wonderful things--trips to take, virtues to acquire, goals to reach, mementos to leave--but every time I make progress toward one of these I don't want to be thinking about the brevity of life.  Ugh!   

Some people, however, make a Reverse Bucket List and that's an idea I like.  A kind of way to gain perspective.  When we're feeling like we're not where we want to be, or haven't achieved enough; when our "bucket list" is becoming intense and making us feel overwhelmed (make partner in my firm; safari in Zambia; write a best-seller; have an HGTV kitchen. . .) the reverse bucket list might be just the thing.  It's an encouragement.  It reminds us what we have accomplished, what we're proud of.  It's a  kind of grateful recounting of what we're thankful for. Obviously a very positive thing to do.  

My first few entries have to do with education.  I'm a bit over-educated (BA, MA, PhD, JD)  My mother was a teacher and that's what she wanted for her children.  My father didn't start college until I did, but he had the same respect for learning.  He became a librarian.  So I have a "Hey-that-course-sounds-great" gene.  As an inheritance goes I can't complain. I made partner in my law firm.  No complaints there either. My other entries have to do with travel.  We did do the safari.  We've started visiting our National Parks (and plan to continue when it's safe). Then there are the more important entries. Raising two children, grandparenting, preserving a loving marriage, being a good daughter. .  . .  Then the psychological entries:  surviving traumas, serious ones; being brave when I needed to be; recognizing wrongs.  

I've sort of listed big things here, at least big to me.  But how we rank things differs by person.  I also love that I began this blog over 3 years ago, do collage art and practice meditation.  Isn't this nicer than feeling bad because I probably (definitely) will never see the Pyramids or Machu Picchu?  Or feeling bad for some other unmet goal?  Zero books published.  Zero any number of things.  Especially these days, who needs feeling bad?  

So I'm recommending the Reverse Bucket List.  Give it any name you want. 
What I've accomplished so far. . .
Things I'm proud of. . .
What I like best about my life. . .
Little things I've done. . .
or just Reverse Bucket List. . .


Little things, big things, any amount of detail or specificity.  Hey, I even feel good for giving myself a haircut and a mani-pedi.  Especially the haircut.  

I haven't been bored during this pandemic and I haven't been lonely.  But I've certainly been anxious.  Are all the people I love protecting themselves?  Some people seem meaner rather than kinder; what can we do about that?  Why aren't we remembering the dead with national days of prayer and mourning?  Shouldn't we scroll their names like we did after 9/11? 

Psychologists say that revisiting positive memories and experiences is good for us.  We become more generous when we're satisfied with our own lives.  We can see the progress we've made.  Our greatest hits, so to speak.  Ten, fifty, any number.  If my mom were alive I'd ask her.  "Mom what do you think are some things I've accomplished?"  She was the best for boosting confidence. 

So take a few minutes to travel down your lane of good memories and see what you encounter.  Whether big milestones or meaningful moments, I bet something good.                       
                                          Nina Naomi

A Good Memory:  Arches National Park, Utah (10/19)

    

# I LIKE . . . #I'D MISS . . .

My Box of Ideas

Writing prompts:  I've written about them before ("The Best List Ever," 9/7/18; When Do you Feel Best about Yourself," 2/8/19; "Investing in Yourself," 7/23/19).  Out of my box of ideas that I keep I found a prompt that I had responded to well before the coronavirus.  Before you read on, you may want to follow this prompt yourself.  Here it is.  "I like . . . ," then make a quick list.  Just jot down what you like. 

I can tell that I wrote my list quickly.  After all, what I put first was "colored glass."  Not my family, not my job (by the way, almost no one ever lists their job first, no matter how important it is to them.  Maybe having a job, but not the job itself.)  Not even my hair, which I've always liked because that's how my mother raised me.  She was a huge giver of praise.  

Here's the rest of my list, a real hodge-podge:
colored glass
soft sweaters
cedar trees
warm PJs
dragonflies

hummingbirds
my rain-filled creek
waking up in the morning
good books
being snowed in
an open fire
feeling loved
biking at the beach
shutting down for the night
shoes  
going to the theater

What surprised me today, the beginning of Week 9,  is that out of that whole crazy-quilt of choices [bit embarrassed about the "shoes" entry], the only thing not available to me now is "going to the theater." 

How did your list come out?  If you're not front-line, are most of the things you like still available to you even during shut-down, wearing a mask, or social distancing?  We had a brief Mother's Day cook-out for our local family--one grandchild, mom and dad.  We stayed outdoors 6 feet apart and shared nothing but conversation and laughter.  I hope your day was good too.


Here's another prompt I found in my box:  "Take a moment to think about what your partner is doing and what you might have started taking for granted over the years.  Imagine what it would be like if your partner were gone, or if you had never met.  What would you miss?"  A good prompt, yes?  It wouldn't have to be confined to a partner, but I wrote my response as if I were saying it to my husband.

Your humor
Your kindness
The care you show for me
Your love
Your intelligence
Your special words
Sharing our days, our nights, our home, our past, our present, our future, our faith, our hopes, our griefs, our grandchildren . . . 

All these are still available too.  And if one of us should die, as each of us will some day, these things would still have been true.  They would have made up our life together.   

So we're each continuing to live our lives aren't we?  We hold on when we need to, we let go when we need to, we work on keeping our balance in these days.  Thank you for reading.           
                                           Nina Naomi

THE FEARSOME POWER OF WORDS

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  John 1:1 

It's possible that nothing is more important that words. For good or for ill.  Words can affirm, encourage, heal and restore.  Or they can break, destroy, humiliate and hurt.  Feelings change and pass; thoughts meander and disappear.  Anyone who's tried meditation knows this; try to focus on the breath and thoughts wander in and out.  Let them go; come back to the breath.


But words stick.  They remain. They're not ephemeral.  They don't dissipate like clouds.  Once said is always said.  Many of our traumas are based upon words.  "I remember when you said . . . ."  Out of a thousand kind words we will remember the ones that wound.  They are so powerful that one sentence can awaken our deepest insecurities, insecurities we didn't even know we had. 

"Kind words are like honey, sweet to the soul and healthy to the body"  Proverbs 16:24  What would love be without words?  Whispered words that stroke like hands, words that we need and seek from the moment of our birth until our death. A soft voice, a touch, tender words.  That's why one of the tragedies of this virus is that those who succumb have to die alone, without words of love or blessing. Years ago my husband's father died alone working in his allotment, shovel in hand.  How much better for my husband and his mother when they could pray together before she died.
   

The power of words is so strong that we don't have to use many to cause deep happiness or profound sadness.  Words can reveal a misplacing of love, a promise broken or a duty ignored.  They don't even have to be spoken to you.  You can overhear them, read them, find them. . . .  Some words, found or spoken, can root you to the spot:  "How will I live now?"  "The earth is opening and I'm falling in."


We say that actions speak louder than words but I don't think so.  I think they go hand-in-hand.  After all, speaking is an action.  Remaining silent when words are needed is an action too. First the words, then the deeds that support them. Apologize with words that admit having done wrong.  Show remorse by doing whatever is possible to heal the hurt caused by the wrong.  And when the hurt is slow to fade, continue to find words and deeds to assuage it.  

Why think of this today?  Well, for one thing, today there is more time to think. This post has been waiting half-formed for weeks.  For another, we are all isolated with someone.  Isolation fatigue has set in; self-discipline is not a virtue that comes easily.  Unkind words may be hovering, or have been said.  

So let us find the right words.  Strangers on the phone have said to me, "I hope you're OK."  I've said the same.  We're not just saying, "Have a good one,"  the phrase that's come to mean, "Keep the line moving."  I think we actually mean it.  

 





 

WEEK 8. ARE YOU OK?

We woke up to tornado warnings the other week.  There was a touchdown just west of the neighboring historic Town of Hillsborough  but no loss of life.  The coronavirus death toll in the US however is over 68,957 souls, highest among the world's nations.  We have over 1,192,906 confirmed cases.  In our nuclear family alone two adults and a teen have survived it.  They aren't among the counted.  

I spent one morning drafting a letter to a person I care about who suffers from mental illness (I seldom hit SEND). Donald Trump wondered aloud in a press briefing whether an IV (intravenous) drip of cleaning fluid might be the way to go.  

We're starting to open so that people who aren't being paid have a chance at solvency.  But science says it's too soon and lives will continue to be lost.  In the increased-risk-zone due to age, I can't imagine when we and our friends will sit together to order a meal; or hug each other.  If school resumes in the fall we won't be able to attend the band concerts or football games (if there are any).  It's the same for all of us.  Balancing risks.  When will we really feel safe?

So here's what is puzzling.  Why aren't we all depressed?  Why aren't we all curled up in fetal position with unwashed hair and empty bags of chips?  I know there's despair, but what's amazing is that it isn't more wide-spread.  Lines of people passing out food or receiving it; parents helping with school work; a grandma babysitting via Zoom while mom works from home (now that's tricky!).  Almost every entertainment you can think of now available online for free:  music, art, yoga, book clubs, guided meditations, even a hair-cutting tutorial.  Fees waived, grading relaxed, deadlines extended. . . .  My doctor gave me my annual over the phone.  "Can you check your vitals for me?" she asked.  She queried my mood in ways that weren't routine.  A new Covid protocol I suppose.  I appreciate it.  

I think that's the answer as to why we aren't all depressed basically all the time:  because there's so much to appreciate.  Right now we're sheltering in eastern North Carolina where not as many people wear protective masks.  But not out of invincibility or unconcern.  People were disappointed for many reasons to see Vice President Pence refuse to wear a mask when he visited the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota, a high risk zone to be sure. But Carteret County is rural.  Nothing is open except for necessaries.  Beach access is closed to visitors.  There's plenty of space.  There have been only 27 confirmed Covid-19 cases and 3 deaths.  

So although I wake up worried, I also wake up grateful.  I bet you do too.  The skies are clear, the birds are singing, I've picked up my groceries from the drive-through (and tipped well; the least I can do) and don't have to go in to work.  We Zoomed with other family yesterday and they're all OK.  Things we might not have noticed before the pandemic, we now do.  Like being alive for one.  Not being sick, the children well, having a safe place to isolate, having friends to call (yes, the media has noticed that people are actually talking on the phone, not just texting).  I never feel bored.  I wonder if you feel the same.  I'd love to know.  For some reason, these limitations have re-calibrated our expectations and we've become more appreciative of what we have and who we are.  The employed in our family appreciate working--mostly from home but not all.  The stay-at-homes appreciate not working. The young people seem to cope the best.  What we couldn't all learn from them!

So whatever we're doing let's keep it up.  If we're doing less, let's stick with that.  If we're paying more attention to each other, let's keep that up.  Whatever it is that is helping us persevere and even have good days, let's do more of that.  And if you want to share, please do.            Nina Naomi