Tonight, I ventured out alone, on foot, with a mask, to pray by my ocean and talk to Jon there on the sand.
It’s my first full day back in California after more than two months in quarantine and grief in Massachusetts.
Grieving happened in the blurry insane days before I left (sound familiar, quarantiners? Bienvenue. I’m sorry too.) and continues here now, but returning is bringing up enormities— worlds— that are breaking all my dams and where will I put all of this water? I don’t yet know.
Anyway today is inexplicably my SEVENTH CALIVERSARY
and I don’t know how it happened either, something about seasons grumble grumble it is true too anyway
So
There are a lot of powerful forces competing for the loudest shouter within my mind.
Ocean. Ocean.
It was 10pm and I started walking down to the beach.
At the light at Pico and Main, the crosswalk sign lights up and I realize I’m about to encounter a human and his small son. My frenzied overtaxed jet-lagged quarantine-confused brain is like, send signal to do something important right now! And I blacked out for a second and my mind zapped and I picked up my mask and put it back over my nose
And then in the same instant as I’m traversing the street, about to pass them, I feel suddenly so sad and sorry and rude and unfriendly, inhuman, something that I don’t ever want to be in the world, and I panicked, and, mask on, I smiled, quickly realized smiles don’t show through masks, keep smiling anyway, and throw up a big thumbs up as I pass the father and son. He smiled with his eyes that felt like his whole soul had really received the warmth I was feeling and awkwardly real-time fumbling determining how to communicate, (I cannot recall the last or ever time I gave anybody anywhere a “thumbs-up”🤪) and we both laughed a little, and I felt so warm and comforted and connected to this whole human family, this big huge one that is all of us, everywhere, through this ONE SECOND INTERACTION WITH A STRANGER IN A CROSSWALK, I felt absurdly filled with understanding and gratitude and respect and empathy and love for all of us sticking it out, clumsily finding a way to give a socially distanced safe smile to a stranger, knowing that we are not strangers. And more than ever, we have a baseline current common among us all and the thing is that we always have had so much in common, all of us, everywhere, by virtue of being human and alive here now—
But it’s taken a pandemic to break down certain walls and reveal what is true. We’ve all been going through life on earth each moment surrounded by other humans who are also going through life in each moment. We can trust that a little more now, I think. I’d be grateful if what falls away is the foolishness of hate and uninformed judgment and any idea that we are or can be separate from each other. We are one. We all know this somewhere within and I think all the world’s flurry of so much everything all the time everywhere just helps to obscure that. All of those scheduled everythings now and foreseeably cancelled, there’s a little silence and a little space to turn within and remember and consider. Please God let us come out of this kinder to each other.
We are going to have a mass excavation of our minds and a search for meaning after this. Through this. Already. I think it’s happening.
We need each other. Say an awkward fumbling thumbs-up hello as you pass by them in the most confusing fucked up time for literally everybody. There are many who are suffering more or less, but no one is immune: not to the virus, and not to the fear. Not to the confusion and frustration and grief and the lack of touch. And the lack of ritual. Not just of alarm-setting and commute-driving and in-person workdays, but other, more tender and more universally recognized necessary human rituals, like burying our dead. Funerals are the worst things ever, and after the pandemic maybe we can take a look at how we might want to fix that, but we lean on the structures of these rituals that we come together to perform in mourning. When we are thrust into grief, we get knocked off balance. The world is suddenly a mean and scary and lonely and uncertain place. (Ring any bells? Yeah.) and however much the whole ritual sucks—and it sucks, hard—we have this template for what’s next, what’s the next step in all the absolute WTF assailing our brains. It gives us a little focus and direction and instructions regarding how your village encircles you to celebrate a life and mourn its end and love you and cry and remember together. It’s not at. All. Perfect. And yeah I just made a note to check in on that later. Will report back. Let’s definitely make funerals better, more of what we need, less of what just hurts, more of what the whole thing means. I’ll see what I can find. Good ideas are everywhere. I have too much experience. My grief résumé kicks your job résumé’s ass. Cooler if it didn’t.
Anyway try an awkward thumbs up to a stranger today, the more awkward and honest the better. Maybe we’ll be able to hear the smiles behind the masks. Laugh at the insanity outside and inside our brains. Let’s keep us together. We need each other. These tiny connections can bring a moment’s levity from a dark and mean and lonely world. Did for me tonight. 11/10 would recommend. Report back! Let’s share some awkward stories of kindness! Let’s all get insanely human with each other. Ease up on the mean. That’s all covered.
And I’m serious, I really would love to know how you’re staying human and avoiding becoming unfeeling robots in the masks. There are gentle souls behind each one. We can be six feet apart and still create a tiny moment of connection.
Also, bonus: Enjoy @yorkshiresillywalks on Instagram. Try to have a bad time.
Humans are actually awesome, if we are challenged and trusted to be awesome. I think it also helps that we have a big hollow where once speeding million things life all day every day constantly crowded our minds and bodies and freeways. Let’s fill this new eerie stillness with solidarity and empathy and silly walks and fumbling thumbs-ups in crosswalks. We can acknowledge each other without injuring anyone. Share a tiny kind moment with a fellow human. I love us. Let’s see us. Let’s be us.
theme and variations 