Showing posts with label COVID-19. Show all posts
Showing posts with label COVID-19. Show all posts

Friday, May 1, 2020

Finding the beauty in the time of Covid-19 . . . around us, and in us

As a 5-year-old, I plucked a flower, delighted by its glowing yellow and white leaves and sweet scent -- it's very life -- and raced inside from the backyard to the kitchen, where I proudly presented it to my mother.

It just seemed right to present that flower, that fragile discovery of beauty, to the most loving and most beautiful person I had known in my then short life. (That an Orb-weaver spider dangled from it's stem was a development Mom handled with aplomb, and a quick shake of mycgft outside the back door).

Throughout my ensuing years as a child, teen and young man, I courted beauty and wonder by playing and later backpacking amid the creeks, brooks and rivers of Eastern Washington and Northern Idaho's mountain meadows, forests, and wilderness expanses.

The vibrant cycles of life in nature -- its unfathomable (to me, anyway) variety in living art, form, purpose and even the very fact of such intricate existence -- filled me with peace and a sense  of belonging to something inconceivably bigger than me.

Now, six weeks out from my 67th ride on Earth's circuit of Old Sol, I'm finally learning that every day spent in beauty -- where sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste cascade in sum to inform and overwhelms a sixth sense of wonder -- brings contemplation, meditation, prayer and grateful worship of the Creator of it, and us all.

This is my purpose in life. Maybe yours, too?

As an Orthodox Christian, I celebrate finding such observations are many in my faith's two millennia of saintly sages' visionary revelations, hymns and prayers. These works of theirs still echo those sentiments of wonder and gratitude today, with wisdom, awe, and love deeper and purer as both personal, and metaphysical prose and poetry that I cannot approach.

Still, to taste and express even something of the same epiphanies? And to share them? Personally priceless.

This is the time of Covid-19 and self-isolation, but if we will accept it, also the opportunity for stretching perception to discover the universe contained in a flower, bird, insect, or the way water falls over a mountain stream's rocks -- or on the face of a child, parent, a passing stranger, and yes, even in the heart belonging to that person in the mirror.

I know that beauty in nature, the cosmos, and the potential for growing it within as we see it cultivated and present in others, is a Truth that finds expression beyond Orthodox Christianity. Indeed, to varying degrees, it reverberates in myriad other religions and philosophies that seemingly draw on a primordial concept of humankind.

One of many such examples: "Beauty in front of me, Beauty behind me, Beauty above me, Beauty below me, Beauty all around me, I walk in Beauty," the Diné (Navajo) elders have prayed from pre-historic times.

While appreciating and treasuring such universal expression of seminal truths, personally, I find them most fully and clearly conveyed within my own faith.

"In Him we live, and breathe, and have our being," St. Paul wrote (Acts 17:28). "O Heavenly King, the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, Who are everywhere present and fillest all things," Orthodox Christians intone, echoing the apostle in the daily Trisagion prayers.

But wherever you are in matters of faith, refocusing your gaze from our failed, manufactured "reality" of ego, entertainment, work, etc., to what exists independently of all that -- both around us, and within us -- is what our current crisis offers each of us.

And that is too good to pass up.



Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Senior Hour Treasure Hunt at CostCo, or the Quest for Toilet Paper (for your) Booty

Well, some things are just impossible lately to get shopping online for pickup or delivery.
So, I tied on the homemade polyester-blend T-shirt mask Barbara crafted for me (and, Lysoling the sucker inside and out beforehand) -- and donning some plastic janitorial gloves -- drove to CostCo at the b**tcrack of dawn for "senior shopping hour."
I got there at 7:20 a.m., well before the official 8-9 a.m. Golden Years hour . . . and still was eighth in line. Tape marked off 6-foot intervals stretching from the entrance down the side of the building, and into the distance horizons, out of sight.
By 8 a.m., all those social-distancing berths were filled; the queue stretched around the warehouse, behind it, and was nearing a full circumnavigation of CostCo.
There were surgical masks, dust masks, dish towel masks, knee socks masks, and not a few underwear and T-shirt masks; gloves like mind, white dinner/butler gloves, driving gloves, work gloves, and a few folks who had wrapped their hands in sanitizing wipes.
A few people smiled -- I think they smiled, from the crinkled eyes -- but most were silent, and tense. I felt especially sad for some frail, octogenarian women and shuffling elderly (well, more elder than myself) couples who wore near-dispair like a quivering, dark aura.
Fear. This is what we have come to, as Covid-19 and its seemingly increasing isolation, restrictions, shortages -- and uncertain future for our social institutions, civil rights, and economy -- weighs more heavily. The 15-day plan became the 30-day plan and now, some warn, could stretch through summer.

Once inside, the first thing this serpentine procession of seniors saw as a smiling employee parceling out the allowed "one only" 30-roll megapack of Scott toilet paper. Plop, roll the cart 6 feet. Plop. Roll the cart 6 more feet. Plop . . . .
I added a 12-pack of off-brand paper towels next. Then some hand soap. A few grocery items. Oddly enough, couldn't find orange juice -- frozen or liquid -- anywhere.
The pace inside was glacial as it was surreal. The 6-foot rule was a challenge to observe, with people suddenly stopping to gaze at their cellphones, or just standing with confused, tired looks.
Not an experience I would want to repeat anytime soon, but it was nice to be able to find something to . . . well, you know.
Oh, did I mention the on-site security? Two large Pacific Islander guards, each easily 300-pounds and 6-foot-3, 4, watched the crowd outside.
Nary a graybeard in queue challenged them, though they did turn away a few younger types trying to enter the store during the Hour.
I know this experience was traumatic emotionally for some people in line (I passed the period listening to Eikona chant the daily Orthodox Prayers on my iPhone) . . . but compared to the chaotic conditions in other countries due to Covid-19 right now, we have things easy.
We need to remember that, right? And this will end.
As for the aftermath, the impact on future pandemic preparations -- and how much this all has further weakened our freedoms of movement, association, privacy, even, some say, religion -- remains to be seen.

Friday, April 3, 2020

A Lenten Pandemic: No one said it would be easy, but life and faith are hard

No one said (or should have said) this was going to be easy. 

But no one told us, just a month ago when the Covid-19 virus quit being a tragedy "over there," worthy of our "thoughts and prayers," that it would spread so quickly and broadly within America.

As of today, we near a quarter-million confirmed cases. About 10,000 who tested positive for the virus have recovered; some 6,100 have died. (Let's not forget, somber as those figures are, worldwide well over a million confirmed cases, more than 211,000 recoveries, and 53,000 deaths).

We should lament the deaths, remembering that while the fatality rate for this pandemic is "just" 2-3 percent, the loss of a loved one hits those left behind 100 percent. We can worry about the record job losses and long-term economic fallout as businesses sink. We can fret about the increasingly restrictive emergency self-isolation and social distancing and "stay at home," under-penalty-of-law orders. 

And some of us can weave, or readily embrace in our fear, the empty outlets of blame and anger. Conspiracy theories and End Times "prophesies" abound.

And some our morally and ethically devoid fellow citizens will hoard basic supplies, anticipating soaring profits or in just plain selfishness, while their neighbors go without.

We all need a broader perspective. But are you a Christian? Then quaint, even trite as it sounds, What Would Jesus Do? Indeed, what DID Jesus do on repeated occasions when he saw crowds of hungry men, women and children?

A few loaves, a fish or two. Some disciples suggested sending those folks away; after all, the meager food on hand might sate the Twelve, but not all of those others.

No. He fed them all. He acted. He loved. He showed us how to "die daily" to self, to love others. Ultimately, He even chose to accept physical death rather than saving Himself, to reopen the gateway of eternity.

Well, we might counter, He was, after all, the Son of God. Miracles, you know -- the kind they recorded for history and faith. And we are just mortal, broken human beings!

But we can work miracles, too. We are His hands, to touch (albeit figuratively, for now), to heal, to feed, to comfort . . . to love.

Perspective, then. For Lenten believers, this has truly become a time of introspection and withdrawal from the distractions of life as we knew it. We pray for inner peace and victory over the passions -- those uncontrolled desires of the body that enslave our egos, our souls, in self will and self-centeredness.

But while this uniquely mild, short-termed monasticism we face leaves us alone with ourselves and Our God, it also crystalizes our concern and love (or it should) for our fellow human beings -- next door, in our communities, or cities, our states, nations, and the world.

For Lent, part of the Orthodox Christian prayer rule is the Prayer of St. Ephrem. It is a plea, and practice of the intellectual and bodily prostration, seeking humility and union with the spirit -- and example -- of that Nazarene rabbi who fed, healed and loved 2,000 years ago, and continues to do so today . . . if we make our hearts full of His love, and willing to be his miraculous exceptions to the fear, greed and rage of our times.

"O Lord and Master of my life, take from me the spirit of sloth, despair, lust of power, and idle talk.
But give rather the spirit of chastity, humility, patience, and love to Thy servant.
Yea, O Lord and King, grant me to see my own transgressions, and not to judge my brother, for blessed art Thou, unto ages of ages. Amen."
It looks like we will not have Pascha (Easter) together in the material setting later this month, not with our churches closed by Covid-19 bans on gatherings. We may not hear the echoing of "He is Risen!" during parish processions, or share smiles and hugs and Communion with our fellows of the Faith.
But if we truly believe the Body of Christ spans time and space, matter and energy, our Pascha this year will find our hearts open doors to the Divine, and each other.
And when this pandemic is over -- and it will end -- let's never forget our precious are those gifts of life and of worship that we have taken for granted, and for so long.



Tuesday, March 17, 2020

In the time of COVID-19: Community compassion ultimately is a personal, not governmental act

Watching what is becoming the daily White House briefing on COVID-19 (a.k.a. the Corona Virus), I am impressed with the all-out assault on slowing and defeating the spread of this 21st century pestilence.

Nearly a trillion dollars committed today, overall. More to the point personally, people over age 60, like me, are strongly advised to just stay home, and if outside, avoid close contact.

I joked with my cousin, who lives in the United Kingdom (where even more stringent self-isolation has been ordered) that pretty soon we old folks will be required to ring hand bells and shout, if not "unclean!" like lepers of old, then perhaps, "Hey, seniors here, steer clear! (followed by a muttered, "Some people's kids . . . ")

We need a slogan, a catchy jingle. Imagine, gray-haired grandparent types with canes, doing a "Puttin' On the Ritz" type dance while singing:

"If you're gray and you don't know where to go to
Make sure to not go where youngsters sit,

When you cough or spit

Different types of wear all kinds of masks

Some just paper, some rags and some with filters fit

For when you cough or spit
Dressed head-to-toe like limpin' hazmat troopers

Trying not to look like a feverish Gary Cooper

Super-duper . . . ."

Now I know, this is serious stuff. We need to take care, for ourselves -- and on behalf of others as well. Then again, it's NOT the Black Plague (up to 200 million dead in the 14th century, roughly a third to half the population of Europe included). 
It's also not the Spanish Flu (20-50 million dead worldwide in 1918-19, 675,000 Americans), Swine Flu (1 million dead globally in the late 1960s, 70,000 in the U.S.), SARS (some 775 deaths from 2002-2003, about 10 percent of those who were infected), or even more recent Ebola (an estimated 1,200 worldwide 2014-2015, but very few here). 
In the U.S., so far, about 5,000 people have tested positive for COVID-19, and about 90 have died; globally about 170,000 have been infected and more than 6,600 have died. The mortality rate is about 2-3 percent, and most of those victims are elderly people, many of them with pre-existing immune or cardiopulmonary weaknesses.
What makes COVID-19 unique is that is seems to spread much quicker and more easily than its more deadly SARS  viral cousin. That's why it is a pandemic, and that also is why it is not the End of Days ( i.e. the Pale Horse of pestilence running amok).

Still, this is certainly a time, a noted above, for a wartime footing, as it were, to fight the pandemic. But ultimately, it will come down to how we react as communities, and individuals, with compassion for each other. That can take the form of calling a self-quarantined neighbor offering to shop for groceries, or to share what we ourselves have stocked up; staying in contact with loved ones from afar; and personally, taking these suddenly empty hours as opportunities to read, reflect, contemplate and appreciate the good times, and pray for their return -- along with a deeper gratitude and determination to never take them, or our friends and loved ones, for granted.

For me -- my heart "upgraded" in the past decade with first an artificial aortic valve and then a pacemaker, as well as two previous bouts of pneumonia -- this crisis has meant reluctant compliance with the various COVID-19 restrictions. So, that's "social distancing" while out talking daily walks, entirely avoiding markets and theaters and gyms, etc.

The worst part for me? Suspending attendance at Sunday services at my beloved Sts. Peter & Paul Orthodox Church.
Instead, late last week, I attended Communion Thursday morning with less than a dozen others. It's the sort of "off-off Broadway" approach for Orthodoxy, I suppose; early weekday services are lightly attended (compared to the hundreds on Sundays). It was eerie, standing so far apart from other parishioners, but the liturgy and Eucharist were spiritual anchors in a troubling time.
It will be interesting to see, once this pandemic eases, to see how hungry believers are for gathering for the prayers, chants and communion we have so taken for granted in the past.
Wouldn't it be great if that time of reunion, and perhaps renewed Lenten devotion, comes by Pascha (Easter?)