Before I get into it, I wanted to share something that has been in the works for months. I’ve been working with The New Moon, a wellness platform based in Hong Kong, to create a new meditation series called Everyday Transcendence. The New Moon team is so wonderful and I feel so lucky that they asked me to create this project.
You can listen on their Spotify.
As you may have noticed, I’ve been a bit MIA in the Now is Good universe.
I’m not entirely sure how to contain all that the past month has been— first I took my dad to the hospital, crossed town everyday to visit, waited through his surgery, visited him some more, brought him home and jumped on a plane to Paris the next day. Saw the famously enchanted city through my own eyes, met work deadlines from a hotel room perched above the neighborhood’s corner store. Walked around streets drenched in sunlight at 9:00 pm, leaned into conversations with those willing to engage with North American Scum. Boarded a flight home 5 days later, experienced chills halfway through the 12 hour journey, got a positive covid test the moment Chris and I got home. I’ve been quarantined ever since, it’s been me and my dog spending 90% of our time in bed.
Everyone says rest is the key to keeping the covid dance quick. I want to submit to relaxation but concentrated rest really does a number on my mind. I feel entirely blank from start to finish. I’ve always had a knack for letting things go: after my high school boyfriend broke things off it took only one week to wipe memories of him from my mind. We got back together, but things never felt the same. It was as if the root of our relationship had been poured into a tiny glass bottle and launched into the sea. Staring at his face was like looking at a next door neighbor I knew long ago.
Usually in these times when I lose hold on some facet of reality, I delve into creative work. Just now I don’t have the stamina. Instead I’m watching old rom-coms and catching up on moderately recent TV, feeling a bit forgotten by the world that has managed to stay in motion.
Because I’m so late to this covid game, I know none of this is a novel experience. It feels like wearing out of style clothes from a sale rack. You can’t help but wonder if the dress looks good on you, all the while feeling foolish for jumping on a trend.
Today I finally felt well enough to read and I found an article about a group of people climbing into one of the world’s deepest caves. Some of the explorers describe their desire to walk through these underworlds as compulsive. Unexplainably pulled into the earth in search of depth. In my current state, all I feel is a hunger for the passion that would drive anyone to those lengths. To witness what lies below any surface is transcendent. Some people explore caves and here I am untying the bedsheet I have hung across the bedroom window, to diffuse the midday light. Comparison really is the thief of joy. I actually love the bedsheet ritual.
This departure from regularly scheduled programming has felt slightly unnerving, but I’m doing my best to reserve any invested judgements. It can feel funny, but sometimes a period of time goes away and the only thing you have to prove is a fresh round of antibodies. I guess that’s actually pretty impressive. My body was able to put up a fight, get through the worst of it and now I have this revitalized immunity.
The body has had to work on a whole other level, but my inner critic feels disappointment that I couldn’t muster up anything “productive” during this time?
I’ve always been hard on myself, but I’ve actively tried to check that impulse over the years. It is in these moments when so much is stripped away that unkind voices are revealed as surprise guests. You didn’t think that management had renewed their contract in your consciousness, perhaps they just waltzed into the venue because the doorman has been out of sorts. It’s an insidious thought process, to believe if you’re not constantly in the pocket (whatever that imagined place is) that nothing will ever come again.
When my mom got sick, it happened basically overnight. She woke up with vertigo, which led to chronic pain, which led to opioid dependence. (Where are the awards for condensing a decade into a sentence?) It’s no wonder that every time I get sick I have to convince myself that it will not be forever. That’s part of why I have leaned so hard into the truth of the temporary nature of everything. Temporary is a relative term, but it is the essence of this life experience.
Who knows where I’ll be next week, next month, next year. Sometimes I’d really like to know a little more. I’m working on having plans that extend into the future, but for now I’ll take comfort in knowing that whatever arises, it will also subside. Whether it’s a baby wave melting on the sand or a dynasty that rules for generations.
Right now I’m thanking my body every morning and taking all the breaks. This morning I took Joey for a walk that was a little longer than I’ve been up for. Suddenly I began to feel worn out, weighed down by the late morning sun. I took refuge on a hidden flight of stairs set between two houses, shaded by overgrown trees. As I caught my breath, I felt the distinct peace of being.
Nothing to prove, just a small part of a wild world. In light of recent events, I think we all deserve some space to just be. Here’s to hoping we can all find it.
I’ll be back in the swing of things soon, thank you for being here for the ride.
xx
James