the blessing of pandemic weariness...

As we approach the start of Covid: Year Three, I confess to being weary. In this, I am no different than the rest of us - and therein lies a humble reality that feels like a blessing. At least among those with whom I correspond regularly - and that small circle of friends who periodically check-in during my Sunday evening "Small is Holy" livestreaming reflections on FB - I have experienced a unique and even holy sense of solidarity. As the pandemic ripens, ebbs, flows, baffles, and morphs into something still unimagined and vexing, our virtual connections have become a God-send to me. Something I never want to ever take for granted. That's why I give thanks to God today that over the weekend I encountered what I think of as one of the pandemic's periodic low points: not despair nor inertia, not deep physical or emotional exhaustion either, just a sense that my soul was aching softly just below the surface. Truth be told, it was a longing for deeper connection and self-care.

Of course the brutal cold and perpetual grey skies haven't helped: parts of this feeling regularly show up inside me about this time of year. That's why, before COVID, we slipped away to Tucson for a breather. Nothing like perpetual sun, warm wind, the smell of creosote in the desert after it rains, good friends, and excellent Mexican food to fix what's broken. We'd actually started making plans to get away from the gloom when Omicron put a halt to this year's adventure. While vaccinated and boostered, we had no desire to risk air travel right now. Just the thought of mixing with those who have chosen NOT to be vaccinated caused me to cancel online arrangements. Add to that the reality of so many flights being both cancelled and/or delayed because of sickness was equally exasperating. What's more, the dear friends who had invited us to rest from the cold in the desert have delicate health issues of their own and we would never do anything to compromise their well being. 

So, making peace with January and February in the Berkshires became our spiritual challenge. One joy is that we will play with our grandchildren this weekend, weather permitting, and visit with the Massachusetts clan the following weekend. We reclaimed and restocked our bird feeders, too and now our wee friends have returned to greet us throughout the day. As today is the Feast Day of St. Brigid of Kildare I will dust the house, scrub the floors, and then make three St. Brigid crosses to grace our thresholds. We began making some kitchen upgrade plans to add another layer of beauty to our monastic solitude. And, as an act of self-care, I've given myself permission to pause my study and writing for Sunday and just chill. It simply felt like too much was needed to rush into my reflection on Mary Lou Williams and Frank Zappa this week. Digital editor, Ayu Sutriasa, at YES Magazine recently wrote that this January has felt particularly daunting:

Pandemic anxiety feels like a whole new ballgame. If you’re anything like me, maybe some of your tried-and-true coping mechanisms just aren’t cutting it right now (which is totally understandable.) When writer and psychologist Gabes Torres told me she wanted to write a piece on navigating pandemic anxiety by centering the body, it was an obvious yes. Just reading her draft, I felt validated in everything I’ve been feeling since the omicron surge. And my biggest takeaway? Remember to trust and tend to my body. I hope you find some peace and comfort in her brilliant, tender words, as I did. (Check out her reflection on trusting your body here: https://www.yesmagazine.org/opinion/2022/01/27/pandemic-anxiety-let-the-body-lead)

Once I let go of my self-imposed Sunday commitment, I felt like dancing. I still wanted to be engaged and connected. That is life-giving and sacred to me. But I needed to do so this week without pressure. Practicing what you've periodically preached doesn't always come easy to any of us. But listening to and then trusting the embodied wisdom within called to me in ways I could feel and hear - that's why I believe my weariness was and is a blessing. I look forward to reflecting on this week's gospel with you, sharing silence and song, too on Sunday's "Small is Holy." And, I trust that you will find it a time of simple contemplation and rest. You may tune in here @ 4 pm on Sunday: https://www.facebook.com/Be-Still-and-Know-913217865701531