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Evaporation

I watch evaporation

on the roof shingles

as the sun slowly rises

I watch evaporation

of a single jet contrail

the flight path much quieter

than usual

I watch the evaporation

of what I took for granted

democracy

the free movement of people everywhere

touching my beloveds

I watch the evaporation of illusions

that the earth will always tend to our needs

that the stock market is a tangible thing

that I am a sovereign nation

I watch crocuses opening

I watch daffodil buds unfurling

Drowning in bird song

All of life’s moisture

recycling invisibly

above me and all around me

Wake up

take care

we are still breathing the same air

Diary 4/4/20

“Around the world, seismologists are observing a lot less ambient seismic noise — meaning, the vibrations generated by cars, trains, buses and people going about their daily lives. And in the absence of that noise, Earth’s upper crust is moving just a little less.” Harmeet Kaur CNN reporter

Think about it- only on Christmas Day does the earth get a similar break from all of our noisy activities. How can we deny that the results of our human lives affect the planet? “The earth’s upper crust is moving just a little less.” I had no idea. It makes perfect sense, but it is astounding information to me. I had no idea that our impact on the planet is connected on so many more levels than I even understood.

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Weeping and Laughing

Diary 4/3/20

“When the heart weeps at what it has lost

The soul laughs at what it has found.”

                                    A Sufi proverb

I heard Eckhart Tolle repeat this in a video clip that a friend sent me the other day only he said, “When the ego weeps…”. In either version, it is a truth I understand far better since my husband Richard died two years and almost two months ago. At the time, there was weeping, knee-collapsing howling, and a wish for an entire tribe of ululating women to match the pitch of wailing required to express my loss. What was unexpected, was the subsequent and now simultaneous arising of soulful jubilation.

Having lurched through the portal of such a devastating life-changing loss, there was a profound sense of peace and liberation (inadequate, approximate words) that followed. Flowing into the gaping hole torn by grief was a sweet, equally intense joy. I was so fortunate that Richard and I had little unfinished business left to attend to. I was relatively free of guilt, or many “if only-s”. As both psychotherapists and spiritual partners, we worked hard all of our lives to learn of our own faults and forgive ourselves and one another for our ever-struggling humanity.

When tumors in his brain resulted in surgery, chemotherapy and radiation, his old capacity for processing or comprehending that level of work between us rapidly dwindled. The whole last eighteen months of his life did not allow for such deep endeavors anymore. Other aspects of his being remained- his sense of humor, his dedication to finishing outdoor projects he had begun, his delight in ice cream after his taste for food disappeared, and his love and acknowledgement of love given and received by his friends, family and caregivers.

Having learned that hearing is the last sensory perception to go after the final breath is gasped, I lay on one side of his body, my daughter on the other, for an hour whispering into his ear as his soul departed farther and farther away from this earth plane. I chanted the Heart Sutra mantra *over and over, “Gate, gate, paragate, parasamgate, bodhi svaha”, and many other more intimate sendings that arose spontaneously in my final moments of releasing our attachments to one another. I felt complete when I arose from his bed and saw the stillest version of his pale body left behind.

I also felt the magnetic pull of wherever it is we arrive and depart from so close, vibrating like threads of light and music all around me. The living room with the hospital bed, oxygen, commode, and medications, was only a temple for the sacred human beings left behind after their rituals of death.

In this time of great grief and loss of what we took as normal, I am also making room for the laughter of my soul. I am less preoccupied with having to do as much as I already felt obligated to do in this very busy and dynamic “retirement” community. I am laughing at my zoom dinner with family and friends (please pass the salt?), zoomed Quaker meeting, and have joined a new Buddhist sangha in Oberlin also via zoom, one I could never get to attend in person before this. I am laughing at my grandson Max on daily Face Time check-ins as he discovers his toes and his voice. I am laughing at the precious springtime awakening in the enclosed garden available to me. I laugh at my ego scrambling in dismay as once again it is thwarted in its chartered course to control life. I laugh and cry as I see, as never before, the world swept by sorrow and the joyful opportunity to stay open-hearted together in this crisis.

*I like this short reference and in it there is also a laugh. https://www2.kenyon.edu/Depts/Religion/Fac/Adler/Reln260/Heartmantra.htm

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The Marketplace

4/1/20 The Marketplace

                        By Judi Bachrach

If you are selling Fear

I am not buying

You shout to me,” Are you crazy?

Look around you, are you blind?”

The worst could happen

though I am careful, proactive

but it is not happening to me

Now

I am not dwelling

in the future

I will face whatever I must

as I must

and trust

that I will not shut down

that I am more loving than Fear

Love is safer, sometimes sadder

but I am more connected

open-hearted

to you

my dear ones

you know

Death always walks beside us in the marketplace

The following is a quote from my friend Bonnie Gintis’ latest blog, and you can click the link below to read the entire piece. She has been an osteopathic healer to my family, is my friend, and an inspiration to follow as she gracefully dances her life with cancer. I highly recommend her blog.

“The fundamental basis of health is not the absence of disease, but the ability to adapt, and find ways to respond and adjust to whatever challenges we experience. Whether it is cancer, a paper cut, or disappointment, the body finds ways to repair itself as best it can, and then adapt to the new state of things. Health is not an object or a destination we will get to someday when the pandemic ends and things calm down. Being healthy is a work-in-progress, an on-going innovative, creative, adaptive process.”

Radical Embodiment In The Time of Covid-19
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Root Gratitude

Diary 3/29/20

Yesterday’s rolling thunderstorms resulted in a real clap bang flashing storm last night. It woke me up and I was relieved to hear the same weather patterns spawning tornadoes resulted only in a could-have-been-worse event in Arkansas. The wind is still blowing, clearing out the sky and shaking budding daffodils with their almost flowers. The verbena spice bush outside my window is fattening with buds, and the newly planted oak hydrangea survived the late fall planting to show branches that hint of green life beneath the still bare skin.

This morning I zoomed a Quaker meeting which was nourishing and sweet for all. Tonight, I am zooming a shared dinner with family and friends which I am greatly looking forward to. We all know how grateful we are that cyber space affords us these connections. How much harder it would be to feel helpless and wonder how loved ones are faring without this great gift of technology. Many people in the world are in just that position and it makes me sad to contemplate how difficult life must be for them as we share this pandemic.

I just came back in from an outing in the enclosed south facing courtyard garden and sat down on a bench in front of the big wind chimes. They ring in some Asian temple bell harmonics and as the wind was strong and gusty, the strikes and reverberations were constant. Familiar patterns arranged themselves into a known melody and were quickly dispersed by the next breeze. I like the idea of my thoughts assembling and then scattering on the whims of wind. Silence beneath the coalescing and evaporation of the busy mind began to arise just before a massive cloud covered the sun and sitting still became too cold.

After staying inside during the last dark and rainy days, how can I not be amazed at the greening of a lawn, a leaf, a spray of last year’s lavender- more than that, the color of different crocuses or daffodils glowing against the suddenly darkening sky. In the cactus section of the garden someone placed the white skull and legbone of, perhaps, a canine? The master planner of the garden, a biologist, I believe, explained the garden layout to us last year in terms of the interconnection of the variety of species he chose. His was long term planning, including the tending of newly planted trees that will become much bigger in ten years’ time. This has been meticulously noted for future gardeners to keep his initial vision in proper balance.

I hope that, wherever you are, you can also view the out of doors, or better yet, take a carefully spaced outing whether you walk or roll out as many do around here. The earth continues its own unfolding even as we grapple with hunkering down. We are lucky to live, to connect, to sing, to dance, to laugh, and cry- to be human, calling on the best we can be for the long-term future of all.  May the trees long outlast us and may we co-join with their roots in deep gratitude to keep on growing.

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Endless Well

Diary 3/28/20 Pandemical Neighborhood Series

Endless Well

No wonder we need guns.

We’ve got to fight

for our toilet paper.

No wonder we need lies.

We just rediscovered

that life is suffering.

Buddha told us that

Over two thousand years ago.

He and many others

also told us

there are ways to live in joy.

Compassion is an endless well.

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A Pandemical Day in the Neighborhood

Diary 3/23/20  A Pandemical Day in the Neighborhood Series

by Judi Bachrach

                       For Mr. Rogers

It all comes down to fear

of the Ultimate fear

along the way

no food

no shelter

no rank in the herd

no breath

loss of any or all of the above

action based survival

nobody can fix

that Life is the way it is

for you

or anybody you love or not

believe it or not

compassion is all we can be

won’t you be my neighbor?

Dairy 3/24/20

It’s a Pandemical Day in the Neighborhood

            By Judi Bachrach

  (for Mr. Rogers)

Standing 6 feet away

I think of you all

near and far

my neighbors

at home

working or playing

Perhaps now there is time

more time than we remembered

to be

a neighbor

won’t you be mine?

Diary 3/25/20

Pandemical Day in the Neighborhood

            By Judi Bachrach        

            (for Mr. Rogers)

The line at the dispensary

Respectful 6 feet apart

Allowing 5 people inside at a time

“Yeah, my left arm is numb

Inoperable cyst on my spinal cord…”

“PTSD.” Mumbled reply, “thank you for your service…”

“My son just got laid off yesterday

I guess liquor stores are now non-essential.”

Chuckles all around

“At least the governor was proactive.”

Silence. This is conservative Ohio

Nobody mentions the president.

My turn  

I am delighted I could get enough tincture

to last me until September

Back in the Care Center

I shed my mask and gloves

wipe down my rollator

put that coat and those shoes away

My home neighborhood serenades me

through my open window

Singing my own newly minted words to me

Guess the tune to this one….

I’ve been working in my own room

all the live long day.

I’ve been working in my own room

just to pass the time away.

Keeping Kendal well protected

Rise up so early in the morn

Keeping Kendal well protected

Let’s all blow our horn.

Keeping Kendal safe

Keeping Kendal safe 

Blowing our own hoooorn—

Keeping Kendal safe

Keeping Kendal safe

Blowing our own horn.      

Someone’s in the kitchen at Kendal      

Staff is still working I knoooow –

People who are working at Kendal    

Keep the new status quo.

And we thank you

Fee fi fiddly i-o         

fee fi fiddly i-o-o-o-oo

fee fi fiddly i-o

Keeping the new status quo.

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Spring Anyway

Diary 3/21/20

Spring arrived with a morning dusting of snow. From a high in the sixties yesterday it dropped to the thirties today. Along with that came the first Covid-19 case in our country last night. Now nobody except vetted staff and service people can come onto our campus at all. If I decided to go to my daughter’s house in her neighborhood near Cleveland, I wouldn’t be able to return to Kendal. My daughter and I already presumed it would come to this.

She and her husband and their son are driving back from Austin, Texas as I write. Two weeks ago, they had taken the chance to go see Max’s grandmother who was staying at her daughter’s house in Austin before she returned to Bosnia. Now, because she is a new American citizen, his grandmother has chosen to stay here with her daughter and avoid being alone in her apartment in Sarajevo. Besides, if you think the American healthcare system has issues, try Bosnia’s.

 Likely, I will choose to remain here at Kendal. Just like everybody else, I can’t hug or hold my beloveds for some unknown period of time. We do have the option to be together if things change, but right now it seems easier and safer all around if I stay here. The rapidity with which we have all been adjusting to the new normal is astounding.

I have been busy staying in contact with everyone near and far. Friends from Kendalites living in cottages and apartments, friends from afar and of old, and my extended family are all touching in. Thank goodness this crisis has come about in the era of cyberspace. I feel very cared for and not at all forgotten. I started to read from The Overstory (see former blog) to my blind friend down the hall, listened to a radio program with a friend who lives down the other way, and am clerking Quaker meeting tomorrow morning (even though I not a formal Quaker member) because I am able and more than willing to focus for the seven of us here who will gather in the Care Center.

Yesterday I was serenaded by two friends. Room numbers were posted next to our windows from the outside so that other residents could stop by and window chat. I wrote a song to add to their repertoire. Our version of “Let it Be” could have used some help. Happy spring to you and yours no matter what else is going on around you.

Covid-19 Song: We Must Build a New Way
(to the tune of Sweet Betsy from Pike.
Oh do you remember Sweet Betsky from Pike?
Who crossed the wide prairie with her lover, Ike,
With two yoke of oxen, a big yeller dog,
an old Shaghai rooster and an old spotted hog.
Chorus:
Singin’ Oorally, oorally, oorally ay, Singin’ oorally, oorally, oorally ay.)

In two thousand and twenty comes Covid-19
Across the whole planet on droplets unseen.
Many thousands have sickened, and thousands have died,
The infection has quickened, a pandemic worldwide.

Chorus: Let us rally together, let us rally today,
For a healthier world, we must build a new way.

Long before humans the virus was here
A model for change not a model for fear
Adapting forever as a way to survive
We can all do the same, so we all learn to thrive.

Chorus: Let us rally together, let us rally today,
For a healthier world we must build a new way.

We can’t gather for work we can’t gather for play.
We are learning to live staying six feet away.
If you just lost your job, with no money to pay
How will you manage to go on day to day?

Some leaders are clueless, and some have been strong
Each country is struggling to fix what is wrong.
The life we just lost while denial held sway
It is time that we rally to build a new way.

Chorus: Let us rally together, let us rally today,
For a healthier world we must build a new way.

This song has no ending, it is just the start.
We still have our heads and our hands and our hearts.
We all are connected, now that much is clear,
Let’s work hard together, let’s overcome fear.

Chorus: Let us rally together, let us rally today,
For a healthier world we must build a new way.

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Two Points of View

My nephew from New York, who teaches at a private school in New York ,reached out to me as we are both navigating the dramatic changes in our lives. He asked if I would like to do a shared writing project together. This is our first effort and we are glad to share it with you.

                                 The Horrible Limitations of Being a Seagull

 You’re not dying, and you feel horrible about it.

            The sun is shining, the food is plentiful, and the wifi isn’t even password protected. You turn on the news to see the world all but burning, yet you look out the window at the waves gently lapping against the manicured beach, a seagull lazily skimming the surface for an afternoon snack. A gentle breeze—did you leave a window open or was that the air conditioning kicking back in?—raises the smallest of goosebumps on your forearm. The dull thwacks of a ping pong rally penetrate your subconscious; you decide that the seagull had the right idea and head for the mini-fridge.

            There’s privilege, and there’s guilt, and there’s the combination of the two that you’ve felt your whole life. This is something more, though. A chest-constricting, palpitation-inducing darkness that makes your old uneasiness look like the preadolescent bad dream that it was. You’re in the big leagues now, kid. And it’s time to stop thinking of yourself as a kid.

            Actually, as long as you’re going to be mature and take this whole thing on directly, you should probably drop the transparent distancing technique of the second person and own up to that aforementioned privilege. Stop hiding behind the “you”. When the world’s problems can be likened to tiny ripples in the not-yet-boiling water in the pot on the stove that will soon house the pasta that your children will eat for dinner yet again because they can not be bothered to try anything new this month, the second person is appropriate. When that pot of water has been forgotten about for over forty minutes despite the pressing red coils of the spiral beneath it, and the lid is rattling as the air bubbles gurgle, push, throb, higher and harder than anyone in their right mind would allow them to, the second person is unseemly.

            There is a virus snaking its way around the globe; it is killing people, destroying economies, generally wreaking havoc and destruction everywhere it goes and against everyone it touches. The people who are theoretically in positions to stop it are ineffectual at best. The person holding the most levers that could maybe, possibly, hopefully slow the damn thing down is a selfish, disgusting lout whose most pressing instincts leave him consumed by the twin evils of profiteering and blame abdication.

            Some of the chapters in the history books seem to be as bad as this; one or two were probably worse. But make no mistake about it: this is no time for cowards to hide behind the second person.

            I’m not dying, and I feel horrible about it.

Surthrival*

I am thriving over and above and in addition to, survival itself. Living in the Care Center of a continuing care retirement facility called Kendal at Oberlin (Oberlin, Ohio) I am safely ensconced in a lock down due to Covid-19. At 68 years old with degenerative disc disease and a past history of MS, I live in the Assisted Living area. I am younger, more mobile, and mentally alert than many of my neighbors. P is 102, Q is turning 100 next month, while others are between their mid 80’s to 9O’s. In one direction my hallway is filled with the most independent of us, and down the other side and turn left at the T intersection, some are nearly blind, totally deaf, in early stages of dementia, post stroke, socially disinterested, and/or owning a host of other ailments. Powered wheelchairs, scooters, and walkers are the norm.

Ohio has a governor who was proactive in establishing restrictive guidelines early on. He was determined to do his best slowing down the transmission of the virus giving hospitals a chance to accommodate what is potentially becoming an overwhelming crisis. Nobody goes in or out of here unless vetted daily (staff and service vendors) and visitors are only allowed for loved ones in a terminal situation. The first two days of fluid protocols were tough. Initially we couldn’t eat together anymore, (trays delivered to our rooms) then we couldn’t leave at all for our usual groups or committees or walks outside, and then the no visitor edict came down from above, applying even to spouses who live just on the other side of the closed doors. Keep your six foot distance at all times and wash, sanitize, and wash your hands again.

After adjusting to my lack of freedoms, I discovered I am simply grateful. Grateful to be cared for and very grateful for cyberspace through which I am able to contact my family and friends. This gratitude is amplified by knowing there are millions affected by this virus for whom the pandemic is already both a health and an economic disaster. The ripple effect of lost jobs as more venues are shut down, as students of all ages are staying home with their families, as lost plans of future expansion are rendered null in this new world- is staggering. The financial effects may last even longer than the rising and falling statistics of contagion we are daily stunned by.

How protected I am. How newly aware we all are that the potential for death and radical change is always present. Now this awareness has a new name in the package of a small virus, insisting that we are all interconnected, and that draconian changes in our lifestyles in major ways can possibly save, not just you and yours, but eventually, all planetary creatures.

May more of us find ways to support surthrival for everyone, everywhere.

* The prefix “Sur” means: over, above, in addition.

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Messenger

Diary 3/14/20

Who knew it could be a virus that carried the powerful message of “we are all connected and that yes, you can and will need to change your behaviors on behalf of everyone’s wellbeing?” It wasn’t the messenger we were looking for. We’d rather have some strong, charismatic, aware person to lead us forward into the future with benign and realistic authority, but it is the one we have before us. The organism carries a heavy burden. It doesn’t promise safety or false hope. It is a force to be reckoned with and may help denial to take a big step back. It brings fear front and center to face person by person, state by state, and country by country as we go. Hate and false blame apparently does not work to stop the advance of the illness. Lives will continue to be lost. The ripple effect of lost income may last even longer than the peak of infection rates, as massive disruptions continue.

I think many of you have already received this poem. I have gotten it from several sources today, but I will pass it on here. Blessings to all.

Pandemic
–Lynn Ungar 3/11/20

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.

And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.

Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.

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Reaching Out

Diary 3/12/20  

            Kendal’s watchwords are: calm, proactive preparation. At our regular health forum for the entire community yesterday afternoon, Covid 19 was the only topic of discussion. The doctor who is our medical director, the head of our nursing staff, the staff infectious disease specialist, and the chief health services officer were all on hand to inform us of the changes we have established for this month though things may change daily if necessary. As they did overnight. That turned out to be our last large community gathering for a while.

The Care Center area where I live is the most affected as we house the most elderly and health compromised residents at Kendal. The breakfast venue directly across the hall from me has closed, as will the nearest dining area. Meals will be brought to our rooms. Eating together is one of the most likely ways to spread the virus- a warm open mouth is an irresistible invitation for infection. Singing together is likewise not a good idea. The rest of the Kendal community can no longer come through our halls on their way to elsewhere in the sprawling facility. Entrances to the outdoors from our end of the world are locked and the inside hallways leading to the larger facility have been closed with unlocked doors. Many nearby cottage dwellers now have a much longer way to go around to get to the main entrance of the building.

Vendors and service people will be checked at all entrances for a fever, dry cough, and shortness of breath before they receive the all clear sticker to deliver their goods and services. Staff and families coming from the outside must do the same. Our Oberlin Quaker meeting is held in another building on our campus and no one from town can now attend, nor can folks from town use the pool or use Kendal to meet for other ongoing projects. The children’s Early Learning Center down the hall is closed after tomorrow, as are all Ohio schools for early spring break or longer. In Ohio, gatherings of more than 100 people are banned, so there will be no more all community events in our own auditorium until further notice.

lf the number of cases escalate locally, which I fear is likely, we are doing our best with more intense personal handwashing hygiene entering and leaving any room-I haven’t forgotten to wipe down my cell phone and rollater handlebars. Perhaps our efforts will at least make it easier for local medical establishments to deal with a potential influx of ill people if we can slow down the spread of Covid19 on our end.

Today in the Care Center, it is very quiet. Because I have friends from the larger community who often dropped in to see me, I will now have to stay in touch via cyberspace and phone. This situation is nudging me to do more reaching out than I am used to, and since I am a little stronger, I can do this. For some of my Care Center neighbors in their 90’s and the woman down the hall who is 102, the change of routine is anxiety producing and very disorienting. They don’t have computers to Skype with and a couple of them are largely blind. Visitations and resident volunteer support will drop off and we worry about isolation for those who depended on them for contact. I will reach out to my elder neighbors more often than I have done in the past as I can no longer attend my usual meetings or lead my meditation groups.

The entire staff is on high alert and well educated as to their new duties which will undoubtedly increase as time goes on. I am slowly dealing with these adjustments. We will wait and see. The whole world is adjusting, and waiting, not just my tiny corner of Kendal in Ohio with our calm, proactive preparation. Making more of an effort to safely reach out to others is now incumbent upon all of us wherever we live.