The Moment of Truth

Day 40 April 29, 2020 -12:40 am

Wes fills the day

I have not turned on the radio all day.  The only media I watch are reruns of long dead series.  I can bear Twitter for about 5 minutes this morning.  Facebook even less.

I slog through work but feel demoralized by the effort of making plans when the future is all but obscured.

Even my fallback fill-up-the-day and occupy-my-mind-and-hands activities like cooking complicated dishes, organizing my drawers, or scraping paint off the basement wall have lost their savor.  

I have gone for walks. I have gone for drives.  I have donned my protective gear to go recreation shop at the grocery store, where I buy something I have never tried just to stimulate a conversation and make the day pass.

I have pulled out my first level piano books.  I clump through these pieces, then force myself to play the same easy piece in another key.  It is ugly but necessary work as I try to make up for gaps in my musical education.  I screech away on my penny whistle, where I specialize in loud, a-rhythmic playing.

I’m reading— man, am I reading.   I have at least five or six books going right now.  And boatloads of New Yorkers, and Atlantics—and daily dives into the New York Times, Washington Post, The Guardian, and Free Press.

And yet…

The days are long and silent.

I’m sick of reading about coronavirus.  I’m sick to death of hearing about the drug-addled conman and his crew of corrupt sycophants masquerading as our government.  I’ve had it with all the preaching, yelling, chastising, shaming blather which passes for discourse on social media.

Virtual church is a simulacrum.  We note the excellence of the music, nod to the sermon, and scroll the sidebar to see who else is watching.  It is not a spiritual practice. There's no transubstantiation from afar.

My husband retreats to his office and I to mine.  We're tired of talking. When he starts, again, about how we used to joke about getting ready for the “The Big One” and here we are, right in one,  I cut him off at “used to joke.” I’ve heard it all before.

But...

I can’t keep some thoughts at bay…

We can’t keep doing what we have been doing.  I can’t keep doing what I have been doing.

The virus, if nothing else, strips away our illusions.  I face some ugly truths:

·      Our culture is willing to let people die—especially the old, poor, brown/black ones—as long as the money keeps flowing. 

·       Our addiction to petroleum will kill us and the earth because we love sloth and convenience even more.

·       My husband is facing neurological challenges and it ain’t gonna get better

·       I am a chicken and a great runner-away—to books, busyness, claptrap and distractions

We, collectively and individually, are about 70% of the way to overwhelmed. 

What happens when we have even less capacity and even more need?

Questions loom.

How can we know?  How is there to know?

The virus makes clear: there are no promises.  Not for this day, not for this minute. 

But...

I don’t want pour the water of consciousness into one glass, then pour it into another, then back again.  

Surely, surely, there is a better choice.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

May 1, 2020  7:04pm

	Cases	Deaths
Global	3,303,296	235,290
National	1,128,118	65,416
Michigan	42,356	3,866
Detroit	9,192	1,045

*US deaths are up 90% since April 18.

MayDay

Maybe it’s the buds on the trees.  

Maybe it's my worries-

       Whether to play: vita brevis

       Or to make more art: ars longa

Or prepare for the winter that is surely coming--

So within

So without

The tsunami has struck

      And the truth is

The tsunami is going to roll right on

      To the next neighborhood

And they are going to hate it.  Hate it.

Get ready for the tide that’s coming.  To your town.

For those of us left in the wake

      There’s been a lot of damage

It’s going to take a while

        To get it working again--

             For the first time

 To get us working again

              You know-

                    Look good

                    Feel good

                    Be good.

It’s gon’ take a while to have faith

              In our systems

              In our government

It'll take some time 'til we trust

         Each other

         Ourselves

Like I said—

It’s gonna be a minute.

So I guess we best get started.