I hate reminding myself that life is unfair and that this knowledge doesn’t offer me the comfort I want. I hate that I’m trying to use this time productively, but can’t help feeling like a thief; taking the time from the others that are losing theirs. I hate that I feel like shit about everything that is going on and I can’t escape my feelings.
My head has been in a thorny thicket of tangled barbed wire the past week; week 4 of lockdown for those keeping track (cause it’s hard). An escape route pops into my mind occasionally, offering moments of stillness and slack in my tightened chest. But, if I took that out, it would mean I’m not helping myself or my community. Running away from discomfort and not dealing with the suffering that sits with me personally or my community will not digest well. So, again, another day I’m working to sit with this suffering in my community. I assure you it is work. Helping and seeing those in need and not feeling like you can do enough.
To be clear, I’m not saying that this world pandemic is a means to a joyful end. I’m not tying this disaster into a pretty bow or attempting to tease with a reward when this is all over. There won’t be. The devastation it is causing is full of heartbreak and suffering and it is terrible. But I believe there is the other side to this. We are far from it and we have more suffering to endure. Perspective will one day offer us the clues we need, but until then I will continue to work in my community and sit with the suffering… and cry as needed.
roadside yogi 