Tending Life at Home

The office I’ve had to leave unused for now

Over the weekend I made a trip into my office to pick up some books and papers, and to bring home my plants. The eerily quiet world sharpened my attention. Nothing felt ordinary about the familiar drive to downtown Lexington, and the short trip seemed to take a long time. My usual sense of knowing what to expect is gone.

I pulled into the lot for the first time in ten days, pulled a Clorox wipe from its plastic canister, and rolled my folding hand truck to the door. After wiping down the metal plate of the door handle and tugging on it to allow the deadbolt to turn, I waved my fob in front of the electronic lock and opened the door.

The beauty and peace of the office suite was the same as ever. A sense of warmth and serenity permeated the space. I made my way down the hall, moving past other welcoming rooms. One practitioner left a beautiful silk flower on her massage table, holding space for seeing her next client, whenever that may be.

Stepping into the reassuring familiarity of my office, I felt a sense of relief. So much has changed, but I still drew pleasure from the art on the walls and small sculptures on the shelves. I felt embraced by the soft light, the well-fitting curtains I sewed, the books waiting to be consulted, the tea ready to be brewed. The chairs sat at an easy distance for conversation, less than six feet apart.

I felt the safety and support that I’ve worked to provide for others within these walls, yet at the same time a deep sense of sadness that none of these healing spaces can be used for now. Every part of this suite offers a spirit of tranquility and healing—gifts that we desperately need in these days. The absence of people in this beautiful place is heartbreaking.

Those of us working in these spaces didn’t have the chance to say goodbye, and now we bide the time in our separate homes. Along with the rest of the world, none of us knows when we can return or how the world will look when we do. We wait, doing what we can while the world is remade.  

The plants were a little dry, but still green. I put the heaviest one on my rolling cart and carried the others, loading them all in the back of my car.

I’m taking care of my office plants at home for now, where I’m tending most everything else. I’ve moved to Zoom for meeting one-on-one and with groups. I’m grateful for the technology that allows me to work and lets all of us to keep in touch.

As most everyone is doing for now, I’m working at keeping life alive in whatever way I can.

Waiting, pausing, and tending life at home

A Word of Encouragement

Excerpt from a letter to those whom I see in my practice. I offer it here to support and encourage others as well.

A windowsill in my office

This is a time to take especially good care of your inner life, just as you follow recommendations for staying physically healthy. Notice what’s happening inside and hold it with kindness and self-compassion. By supporting ourselves in this way we allow emotions to release, rather than have them set up camp and impede our lives. Listed at the bottom of this note are a few online resources you might find helpful in these times.

These days I’m making an effort to be aware of how I’m resisting the current circumstances of my life, and gently inviting that resistance to ease. I’m trying to cultivate the practices that help me engage with others in a calm and grounded way, and to make time and space for the things that help me feel more resourceful and present. Walking in my neighborhood, meditating, listening to music, talking with friends, digging in the dirt, reading, and writing all make a difference for me. I’m seeing how important it is to take a break from the news and allow times of quiet when I can rest, inviting a sense of the greater Presence.

I’m also holding the question of what I might be able to offer as we make the changes coming in the next few weeks and months. I trust that what we’re going through together can create space for reshaping of our culture in a positive way, and I’m curious about how I might help that happen. I’m open to experiencing this time of withdrawal as a chance to reconnect with what is most important. And at the same time, I’m appreciating my connection with others as a primary value in my life.

It’s important to remember that we are not alone. We are in this together, and I believe we are inseparable from the One for whom there are a thousand names. The sacred ground of being holds us in love and sustains us through everything that happens.

I hope you and your loved ones are well, and wish you peace as you navigate this unsettled time.

With love,

Susan

Here are the online resources I mentioned:

For those able to claim space and time at home, this is about creating a half-day retreat:

This is a beautiful site operated by Irish Jesuits. It takes you through a prayer that changes daily:

https://www.sacredspace.ie/daily-prayer

This is a list of mindfulness and meditation apps:

https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/top-meditation-iphone-android-apps#buddhify

This is a nine-day course called Novena for Times of Unraveling:

https://onlineretreats.abbeyofthearts.com/courses/54/overview

These are practices for cultivating self-compassion from Kristin Neff:

https://self-compassion.org/category/exercises/

These are instructions for meditation not connected with religion:

These are instructions for doing Centering Prayer:

Here’s a list of virtual museum visits:

If you provide your email, you can access this list of virtual gallery tours:

https://www.travelandleisure.com/attractions/museums-galleries/museums-with-virtual-tours

These are online art lessons for kids:

http://wildfreeandcrafty.com/2020/03/15/free-online-art-lessons-for-kids/?fbclid=IwAR1ifWn6WxFdQgnvaXygweQMAciYgWv-SLgF-98qmJ31MCth2TgxBdC83WI

And with your email, a sketchbook revival virtual workshop:

https://www.karenabend.com/sketchbook-revival-2020/

Coronavirus and Clarity

Everyone has moments of feeling alone, as if we’re plodding through our days disconnected from the rest of the world. But as we watch the spread of the coronavirus, evidence of our interconnectedness challenges that perspective. Perhaps in more normal times we question our role, our belonging, our place in the family of things, as the poet says. The spread of the virus says that what happens to some of us affects all of us. We’re all in this together.

To believe we are separate is to be looking at the world through a distorted lens. We are part of a greater whole. Whether hourly workers have paid sick leave affects everyone. The struggles of small businesses to stay afloat ripple through the community. The decision of whether to stay home when we’re sick affects not only those in our immediate circles, but potentially impacts other places around the world. No one is an island.

We respond to this reality, to the world and our circumstances, with either fear or love. Our choice matters. We can’t choose the emotions that arise as we see the spread of COVID-19, but we can choose the ones we live by. We can’t control events, but we decide how to meet them. Our lives and those of others are shaped by whether we act from fear or love.

I see love in how people are taking care not to spread the virus. Careful handwashing protects not only the ones doing the washing, but those with whom they come in contact. As we learn that the virus is spreading undetected among apparently healthy people, those who aren’t particularly worried about their own health do a great service to those more vulnerable when they take precautions. Love also plays a role in discerning whether to gather and how best to look after a community.

I also see love on the part of health care workers, making themselves and their facilities as ready and as safe as possible. We all take reassurance in the fact that they show up to care for those made seriously ill by this virus, as well as the other illnesses they treat every day. They strengthen our society through the courage and generosity of their work.

Certainly fear is driving behavior as well. My local grocery store displays two new signs: “No face masks” and “No hand sanitizer.” Trading in the stock market seems as panicked as the run on cleaning supplies. Fear has shown up in the senseless suspicion of Asian people, and in the desire to place blame for the outbreak. Fear can also drive us to put our heads in the sand, refusing to live in the real world, ignoring or denying the seriousness of a situation that we do not want to face. Anxiety and fear spread more easily than the virus, another reminder of our interconnectedness.

Yet we can also share a sense of calm and love with one another. Peace in the face of challenge is something we can spread through our communities. A loving presence passes easily from one person to the next, and it alleviates all sorts of suffering—our own and that of others.

Choosing love includes taking care. It means seeing as clearly as we can what is happening, and making good responsible choices about what we will do. Depending on our circumstances, love might mean showing up, or it might mean staying home.

We tend to forget, perhaps for long stretches of time, that love exists at the heart of everything. It’s like the water table deep in the ground, supporting our lives and connecting us to one another. That ever-present source of life remains available, and the more of us who can tap into it and share it, the more readily everyone can drink from its life-giving waters.