.....covid Christmas

Yogis,
It’s Monday morning and the final car has pulled away. The house is once again quiet as I reflect on the past 4 days…..

Thursday evening. Cookies baked, refrigerator overflowing, wood stacked neatly by the fireplace, covid rapid tests done.  Christmas songs were playing in the background and all that was left to do was wait for the family to begin descending in an hour. The phone rings and it is my youngest son saying that although his test read negative, he is a bit achy. Sigh…… We all agree he should drink plenty of fluids, get a good night’s sleep and retest in the morning.

Morning arrives, and with it his test now reads positive. Covid has joined our holiday celebration without an invitation.

We all whip into action. Hollandaise sauce made and put in a bag with eggs, muffins and ham. Christmas stocking stuffed. Cookies, bagels and presents loaded into the cars and the nine of us head over the river and through the woods to his house, with a quick stop at CVS for a new thermometer (since nothing says Christmas like a thermometer!) Everything is artfully placed on his front stoop as he waves from the window.

He steps out as we mask up and sing carols from afar. Our traveling cooler is opened and beverages are passed around.

Christmas morning as we gather round the tree we add a seat for my computer and although many complain of zoom fatigue, I was once again so grateful for its ability to bring us together. One at a time we opened and oohed and aahed over gifts. The hat we bought him went right on and the slippers from his grandparents quickly replaced the ones on his feet which had holes he could show us.

That night as the tenderloin cooked on the grill and the men donned their caps and scarves for the annual manly men cigar smoking tradition, James was brought in via facetime….. hat and all. He moved through the house with us, heard the jokes and got to see his niece and nephew. If he couldn’t come, Christmas was being brought to him.

Covid was ever present this holiday season. Calls from relatives, my nephews basketball coach and friends that now have it in their home. We masked up when my pregnant daughter-in-law and grandkids were here and popped champagne bottles with others on the front yard as the sun set. Instead of lunch out I built a fire in the firepit and smudged everyone with sage. We hiked, we laughed until our sides hurt and ate way too much.

In early covid days, some of the kids on our street made signs and hung them on poles. Words about kindness and looking for the good. They have been there so long I had stopped noticing them until I kept passing one that had fallen off and was now laying on a lawn. ‘It is what it is’

It is what it is.

Covid came to many of us unannounced this week and doesn’t appear to be going anywhere anytime soon. It is what it is, and like with everything, our response to it is what determines our state of mind. Like the Grinch, covid may have put a halt to certain traditions, rearranged the day and caused gifts to arrive late, but we certainly didn’t allow it to take away the joy of Christmas.

Time to start the six loads of laundry,
SARAH

.....I wasn't going to

Yogis,
Last week I told myself I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t going to allow myself to get caught up in it. This year I was going to take Christmas preparation slow and easy. Let good enough be good enough. Relax……

But I couldn’t help myself.

It began when I noticed for the twentieth time that the chandelier hanging in the foyer was down to one working bulb. The other nineteen times I walked away and thought ‘who needs more than one bulb anyway.’ This time was different.

I went upstairs to the end of the hall which overlooks the foyer. I leaned over and grabbed the end of the chandelier, swung it toward me, held on for dear life and figured out how to get a bulb out so I could see what kind it needed. While holding it I couldn’t help but see the inch of dust in each bowl staring back at me. Shoot.

Once the new bulbs arrived the big ladder had to make its way out of the garage. Between the two of us we managed to remove the bowls, clean it all and get the lights working. Phew! But while up there I see the layer of dirt on the ledge beneath the windows which are yet another two feet up. I find myself texting a neighbor for one of those long handled dusters and as I wait for it I decide to clean the oven, of course.

The sweater comes off as I work up a sweat.

Walking down the upstairs hall I now see how filthy the tops of the beams are over the great room. Step ladder, rags and pan of water. Ready. Up and down….scoot the ladder….up and down….scoot the ladder. Run upstairs to see how it looks from above. An hour later they are now clean, Did I mention the pantry?

You get the idea.

My whole family is coming for Christmas and they haven’t been in the house for two years! With their impending arrival I once again begin to see my house through different eyes. The clutter that has accumulated since we have been virtually alone here throughout covid. Scuffs on the wall. Tired looking arrangements.

Would they care if there was dust in the rafters? No, of course not. But I love my home and owe her the gift of making her shine. Our homes tell a story of who we are. And if not now, when?

The long broom has arrived so time to get back on the ladder…..once we finish using it to change the bulbs in the outdoor deck spotlight.

I have dust bunnies in my hair,
SARAH

.....stillness

Yogis,
Last weekend I took a friend to Glenstone museum, a somewhat unique private contemporary art museum (the largest in the US) located in the middle of a residential area only fifteen minutes from my home. The setting is 230 acres of rolling hills and natural landscape with the largest of the exhibit halls, called the Pavilions, set in the center. This was probably my fifth visit but her first.

When you go there you must be prepared to walk. It begins when you park your car between the lines designated by newly planted red oak trees and round river rocks. From there you walk to the reception center where you are checked in and offered information to guide you on your visit. Then it is about another third of a mile walk on pathways uphill to the Pavilions.

Once inside the 204,000 square foot building made of 6 foot precast concrete blocks, you travel through enormous large glass enclosed walkways to each of the thirteen exhibit rooms. Each exhibit hall has a number and contains wide expanses of space from which to view the art. We saw life sized photographs, sculptures, a room with one painting taking up an entire wall and mixed media depicting both the beauty and pain of Black American life.

By the time we arrived in what I believe was room 10, my legs were beginning to beg for rest, so imagine the delight when you enter and a bench that awaits you.   A beautifully crafted smooth wood bench that runs the length of the room facing a wall sized piece of glass framed by the buildings concrete blocks. Here the art is the landscape beyond.

We sit down and discuss the room and what we see and then become quiet. After a few minutes, that predictable inner voice pipes up with its message of ‘ok we have seen this, let’s get up and move on!’ But we didn’t. We sat. And sat. I could feel that moment where the mind finally realized I wasn’t going anywhere and surrendered to the utter stillness

It was only then that I arrived in the space that I was occupying. And with that, an entire new realm opens up.

The glass we looked through was so incredibly clear and pristine that all of the waving grasses beyond it suddenly had definition and depth. A bird silently floated through the air to land on the lone bare tree in our view. The scattered patches of sky visible through the low clouds now appeared baby blue. Looking became seeing. Hearing turned to listening. We sat some more.

At one point my friend turned to me and shared that her late husband had begun to do just this over the last several years. He would stop to look at something and would keep looking and looking and looking…..to the point where it was driving her crazy. We have already seen it. Let’s go! Until the day she realized what he was doing. He was choosing stillness so that he could really see.

With that we sat still some more.

If you look back over your day today, was there any time in which you were perfectly still? Where you surrendered to what is here? Try it now! Complete stillness. Frozen in time. No toe tapping or hands through the hair. What does it feel like to be held by the arms of stillness?

Whenever we choose stillness, clarity arises. Like the glass in the museum, we begin to see life in 3D.

That afternoon we saw millions upon millions of dollars of art, but what I will remember most is sitting still and seeing the sun lowering herself in the winter sky.

As still as in freeze tag,
SARAH

....not easier

Yogis,
Our county comes around twice in the fall to vacuum up leaves that have been put near the street. Over the last several years the first pickup seems almost inconsequential since the leaves appear to be falling a bit later now. However the second pickup is critical if you don’t want to have to bag all your leaves…..and we have a lot!

Several times over the season I set aside an hour or two with the sole intention of raking. Yes, I actually still rake. In the front yard I rake them across the lawn and to the street. In the back I fill large trashcans or use a tarp for those knee-deep areas, to bring them around to the front.

I usually begin with a sweater, coat and hat, but after twenty minutes I am stripping down as I work up a sweat. My heart rate elevates and I can hear my breath. When I finish an area and look back at the now cleared grass, it is so satisfying. I feel like I have done something.

When people see me out there they comment how I need a leaf blower. Landscape companies will stop and ask if I want to hire them. Neighbors will offer to let me use their blowers, which is very kind, but I decline and get back to raking. It’s quickly becoming a lost art and I think I have excellent technique.

 Would it be easier with a leaf blower? Of course! But I don’t always want easier.

My current car is a 2018 so it has all the new safety features including the backup camera. I do love it. However, when I am backing up I look at the screen but then I also always twist and turn my neck to double check that no one is walking nearby. When someone rides with me they inevitably ask if I don’t trust my backup camera. It may be partly that, but it’s mainly because it is one of the few times in daily life I still get to do a full twist of my torso and neck. Our neck is meant to be turned.

Would it be easier to only use the screen? Of course! But I don’t always want easier.

Why is it that we want everything to be easier?

Automatic vacuums. Snow blowers. Remote controls. Smart toothbrushes. Timers. All designed so we don’t have to move our bodies. Add Alexa in and soon we can lie on the couch in our robe and shout voice commands to ‘live’ our life. And when you sit back and think about it, the more life is supposedly being made easier, the more complicated and harder it seems.

These physical bodies we have been gifted are meant to run and jump. Climb and squat. Twirl, twist and skip. You know the old adage…..use it or lose it.

So for now I will keep raking, shoveling, taking the steps and weeding by hand. They are in a way a moving meditation and they keep the blood flowing. They are good old fashioned doing.

We have a new neighbor two doors down. As I was writing this I looked out and saw her with a rake. I like her already!

Easier is not always better,
SARAH