It has taken sixteen days, midway through the third week of sheltering-in-place, to relax into the boredom and let go of the guilt of being non-essential.
To live in the belly of the whale as the tempest rages outside.
It is the first time in almost a decade that all four of our children are living under the same roof for more than a brief holiday pitstop.
When the chemistry is off, I try to remember that it will probably be the last time too.
Each morning I compile a list of things that give shape to the day and then submit to a blur of cooking, dishes, and endless puttering.
There are boxes and boxes of our lives in the downstairs closet to explore. It is grounding to stumble over many forgotten moments of happiness while sorting through the unnecessary and out-dated.
Moments that had evaporated are now reconstituted.
It gives me hope.
Things to Do in the Belly of a Whale by Dan Albergotti
Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days.
Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fires
with the broken hulls of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals.
Call old friends, and listen for echoes of distant voices.
Organize your calendar. Dream of the beach. Look each way
for the dim glow of light. Work on your reports. Review
each of your life’s ten million choices. Endure moments
of self-loathing. Find the evidence of those before you.
Destroy it. Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound
of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart.
Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope,
where you can rest and wait. Be nostalgic. Think of all
the things you did and could have done. Remember
treading water in the center of the still night sea, your toes
pointing again and again down, down into the black depths.
“Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale” by Dan Albergotti from The Boatloads.© BOA Editions, Ltd., 2008.
I took the photo in the atrium of the Children’s Museum in Fort Worth.
Gosh this is lovely
Miss you friend.
YES!!! We need to go within, to the basement of our lives, to the inner balance beam that never allowed us to fly. Your courage and constant attention to those you love is palpable and relieving. I love you, your family, and all of life. May we have this life to inquire into why we are here and what is our purpose. much love, kat
On Wed, Apr 8, 2020 at 5:27 PM Days in the Fifties wrote:
> Daysinthefifties posted: ” It has taken sixteen days, midway through the > third week of sheltering-in-place, to relax into the boredom and let go of > the guilt of being non-essential. To live in the belly of the whale as the > tempest rages outside. It is t” >
We are not here to stay the same! Love to you. I look forward to giving you a hug this summer, or when the world allows.
Thanks. At this moment, Covid-19 does not have a chokehold on Austin making my sheltering-in-place feel voyeuristic. It’s hard for me to put my head around what your area of the country is going through. I hope you are holding steady.
“Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart. Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope where you can rest and wait.”
All steady Elizabeth. Thank you.