Goodbye 2020 Hello 2021

For 10 years I wrote a blog once a month. I haven’t written anything in my blog since last summer. I have had little motivation to do much of anything at times. There has been a lot I could have written about: the pandemic and soaring covid death rates, racial and nationalistic tensions that could snap the country apart, Trump deconstructing democracy before our eyes, insomnia and depression, identity hacking, social media break, losing my mom to Covid without getting to say goodbye, processing old family dysfunction, hurt and grief, painful sciatica, extreme boredom and loneliness. Those are the things that have kept me company throughout 2020. Why bother to write these past months. Nobody wants to hear about it. We are tired of sad stories and the perpetual Ground Hogs Day we are all living. On a conscious level, 2020 brought us down; we all feel it. And as much as I have been open about so much in my life, I just shut down and did my best to cope. 

So far, 2020 has been one of the top 3 worst years of my life. I’m 57. That’s only 5.26% of my life that’s been shitty as a whole, so I can’t complain. I can, but I’ll try not to. There is much to be grateful for in spite of the many different kinds of micro-deaths I’ve experienced this year (such as loss of purpose and identity). I’ve gone through the 5 stages of 2020 grief. Now, I’m in the 6^thstage of grief: Meaning. 

I’ve shared this awful year with the best human being on my planet. I couldn’t have made it without Rich. Maybe I could have; but I don’t think I’d be as emotionally stable. 

We felt like we were on house arrest trying to keep safe from the virus. Each day we’ve tried hard not to let this thing called Covid-life get to us. We took it one-day-at-a-time. To think any farther ahead is too hard for the mind to comprehend. At times we’d just muse at the knowledge that we were living during a time of history that people will read about in 100 years. 

Rich has been fortunate to have something to do everyday. Miraculously, his company, RDR Group, grew towards the end of 2020 as they transitioned to all virtual training. When he wasn’t working, on the weekends, we took scenic drives or walked along the beach, ate lunch at the water’s edge on the causeway in our car looking for dolphins, and watched endless amounts of TV series, movies and documentaries. As our minds expanded, so did our waistlines. It’s not pretty people. Food was the only natural serotonin and dopamine hit we could get without turning to drugs or alcohol. Sitting around all year has wreaked havoc on our metabolism. It was hard to keep our motivation up. What little energy we had left, we gave it to each other. We greeted each day with hugs and smiles—happy to be together was our biggest incentive to not get too down or discouraged. 

I have desperately missed those I love. I’ve seen a few friends in passing outside on the front porch 10-feet apart. I saw Kevin masked up for 5 hours in July. I wanted so bad to hug him that I taped two clear plastic shower curtains together with duct tape then threw it over my head. I let him hug me long and hard. I didn’t even care if I would have passed out. I miss hugging. But we’ve made choices not to see friends and family during the holidays and other special events (like April's wedding to Drew). And I don't think I'd risk having Kev in the house again without him doing a 14 day quarantine; and that's not going to happen. So we will see him when the pandemic is over or we're all vaccinated. I purposely stayed off social media so I wouldn’t give into the social temptation to gather with others. Even though others are out there traveling and going to restaurants, we feared getting this awful disease; I also couldn’t live with myself if I gave it to someone else. It’s been my own pandemic moral dilemma; a choice I had to personally live with throughout 2020. 

I learned to play the Ukulele. I’m pretty good; I think in a few years I could play at children’s birthday parties. The only problem is I have to learn how to sing on key. Since I’m by myself Monday-Friday, nobody cares that I’m singing. My goal was to learn to play well enough that once the pandemic was over, I could accompany Peter Grace at an open mic Ukulele night at the Honu. Peter never knew this, but that was my goal. 

I’ve also taught myself watercolor painting. YouTube has been an invaluable resource (pay for premium without commercials…so worth it). I won’t be hanging paintings in a gallery any time soon, but you may get a handmade painted birthday card since I haven’t been to the Hallmark store in a long time. Sometimes I don’t know what to paint; I have no imagination with Shelter-In-Place brain. I’ve told Kevin to text me some of his favorite landscapes while he’s been out on the road in his truck. Sometimes painting for others is easier than doing it for myself. Painting and playing the Ukulele have been my creative outlets. 

I could cry when I think back over this year, because I’m amazed that I had the ability to do anything at all. So what if I’ve lived in my pajamas for 95% of 2020? It’s been that hard to be (mostly) all by myself this past year. Friends have checked in and buoyed my spirits; thank you for walking along side of me via phone, texts, Marco Polo, and Zoom. 

Which brings us to 2021—A New Year. I’ve always loved New Years. It’s a mental fresh start. Even if I don’t accomplish my resolution goals or desires, I like trying. 

The most obvious thing that that happened while Sheltering In Place is our life came to a screeching halt: No more getting together with new and old friends. No more enjoying the perks of our amazing seaside town. No more visitors. No more festivals, art shows, concerts in the park. You take that all away, and it made us think about what’s really important (on a soul level). And though we missed a lot of things in our active Florida life, we missed our adult kids and grandkiddos the most. 

This mandatory PAUSE in our lives inspired us to MOVE TO COLORADO. Sarah is in Colorado. Adam is in Arizona. April is in California. And Kevin is still on the road (someday he’ll be back in Florida. Unless he meets a nice girl from Nebraska—then who knows where he’ll settle down). Being out West puts us in proximity to family. Even if we wanted to go back home to see our brothers in Chicago, it’s only a day drive. 

Two of our granddaughters in Colorado, Autumn and Annika, are (4 & 2 years old). I’m pretty excited to do giggle girly things in my future. We look forward to being more intentional with our family. Hopefully, since we will be closer, they can come to see us too.  

2021 offers us new adventures. We’ll be moving to Loveland CO January 24^th; in the middle of a pandemic; in the middle of winter. (No anxiety here at all, nope). LOL! Once we finally adapt to a new altitude, we'll look forward to all the glorious views Colorado has to offer. And when we are tired of looking at mountains and valleys and rivers, we’ll cozy up in front of the fireplace with Buddha. 

Rich and I have been on a five year semi-retired vacation. We hate to leave Florida. But you can’t have it all. Sometimes life invites you to choose the better. When Kevin settles back down in Florida, we’ll become snowbirds. If he never does, I plan on coming back to Dunedin every February. The weather in Florida will be a nice interlude from Colorado winters. And when I come back after the pandemic is over, I’ll bring my Ukulele; hopefully, Peter Grace will ask me to play with him at the Honu Tiki Patio.

 Ps-I have NO idea why the font changes in different random paragraphs. I don't do that on purpose. :-D 

10 Years-Life Is Life

I have been writing a personal blog once a month for 10 years.  It seems surreal that so much time has passed and so many blogs have been written. At my age, 56, it went by quickly. 

This is a picture of my first blog, "I Want My Old Job Back." Kevin will be 35 years old in a few days. 

I was motivated to write Life Is Life to remember my full life experiences with Rich and the world we lived in the early 21^st century. I wanted to leave behind a digital footprint for our kids or grandkids that may want to look back on this, years after we are gone.

In our family, I was the curious one. I searched long and hard to learn about my grandparents and great grandparents. Rich and I spent hours and hours learning about our family’s stories. I have a few copies of letters from Asa Reyburn, my great great grandfather (my Grandma passed them on to us). He was a Mormon who lived in Idaho. He wrote articulate, long newsy letters to my grandmother’s mother.

It can be discussed if what I’ve written has been meaningful or useful for future generations. I have been bold in my opinions (especially on politics, religion, and social justice). I have only shared how I have evolved and expanded outside my conditioned thinking—which is personal and not up for debate anymore. It took me a long time to find my voice. I have had to risk ruffling the sensibilities of friends or family who were not as outspoken or ready for our new thoughts. Rich and I have always felt a little outside the box of our spiritual family. People were uncomfortable knowing what we ‘really’ think. Like when I wrote, 'The Gospel According To The NRA.' https://lifeislifebykimb.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-gospel-according-to-nra.html Or #FeelTheBurn https://lifeislifebykimb.blogspot.com/2016/03/feelthebern.html

Over time, some of those friends dropped off as our spiritual and religious identities were expanded; to some friends, that was a bridge to far. To us, it was just the beginning of a whole new life to explore outside of our bubble. It made all the difference to question everything. We were grateful along the way to meet new like-minded friends.

Generations from now, nobody will be upset. They will read these random blogs like an old document. They may want to mine them to see if there are any sociological nuggets. They may be curious how much did human behavior change due to our modern-day events, politics or pandemics. They may be curious about what eclipsed the collective soul of our times in individuals. They will learn themes of love and loss, consciousness and consequences, healing and hope, mental health issues like suicide, depression, and addiction, relationship struggles, and worst of all, apathy and arrogance. Since energy never dies, they may sense a kind of morphic resonance, like we felt with our ancestors; I am wordy just like Asa. Our grandkids or great-grand kids may want to look back on it to see if they recognize anything within themselves which they also see in us. There are even a few funny blogs that got a lot of attention, such as Poop Happens https://lifeislifebykimb.blogspot.com/2018/01/poop-happens.html 

When I was hacked the end of May 2020 and my identity stolen, I was devastated. I lost 13 years of photos and content and memories from Facebook and Instagram (since they were linked)---the best 13 years of my life. If anything happened to anyone I loved during that time--Rich, Kevin, the Kids or grandkids, even my siblings, friends, or parents--I’ll never be able to relive those memories through the photos and comments that would have showed up on the Facebook posts. Even my beloved memories of Fred are gone; as well as all the pictures and silly posts of Being Buddha. All my heartfelt written ‘celebrations of life’ of dear friends that have journeyed on are gone too. Poof it was all gone. Who am I kidding; life is more of a mandala than a memento.

I have been off social media for a month. I was too exhausted to go back on Facebook; thinking about starting over (especially my business profiles on Facebook and Instagram) made me sad. So I didn’t. I had to spend hours on the phone for weeks to make identity theft reports with the Federal Trade Commission and police because money was involved; I had to track down anyone I could think of who might still be using my old hacked email account and old debit cards.

It felt daunting to start over. I was grieving so much of my life.

This was happening during the first three months of the worldwide pandemic of Covid19. Over a hundred thousand people had died in our country (those death statistics are still climbing). I had been sheltering in place for 3 months. Life was kind of boring and dull. I gained 20-lbs from eating bread and baked goods—which would give me a Serotonin hit so as not to lose my mind. Social media was a nice escape while we all went inside. Collectively, I could hold space with the rest of the country and my friends who were all struggling not to be fearful or isolated and alone. I would spend hours watching TV to learn the latest updates and input from top infectious disease doctors from all over the world. I watched about 80% of Andrew Cuomo’s lunchtime Covid19 news briefs. And watching Trump epically fail at leading our nation, creating a partisan pandemic narrative, and put our lives at stake. People were not going to wear their masks when lockdown ended; I realized we were not going to all be like Japan and wear our masks to protect one another. No, for 1/3 of the country, the mask was an issue of freedom and rights: “Don’t tread on me and tell me I have to wear a mask in public!” People actually died asking people not to come into places of business without a mask on—literally shot dead because they were told to wear a mask! This intense negative energy was palpable as lines were drawn in politics and in communities. Business owners were scared and often relaxed mask requirements. That meant I wasn’t going to be able to come out of my house for another year or more until herd immunity or a vaccine was available. I was deeply depressed for the entire month of May over the lack of civil consideration during a pandemic. Then George Floyd was murdered.

I have watched plenty of killings in my life on TV or in the movies. But I have never watched a man be murdered before our eyes for nearly 9-minutes. The inhumanity was more than I could bear. Collectively, the entire world said that is enough; police brutality and race inequality had to be addressed if we are going to move forward. Protests happened all over the country (and I couldn’t even participate because of the pandemic). All I could do was watch and cry and bear witness to it all.

Division and disagreements unnerved friends and family members who didn’t know how to talk about their differences of opinions with each other. I was even told by one family member that I was now ‘dead to them’ for my liberal views. (Another crushing loss.) We were all trying to find words to share how we feel. We don’t have the language yet to understand one another. I feel we have put too much stock in our leaders to bring about change. We have been trained by systems that are failing. We know we need to change things but it’s daunting. And it’s taking too long to do the right thing. Martin Luther King Jr. said, ‘The arc of moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.’ He forgot to mention that it might cost us something in our communities and relationships to stand up for our convictions. 

I needed a break. I thought that my input was important; if I didn’t speak up in my circles, who would? I always felt I would be that drop in the bucket.  Emotionally it seemed in vain, but logically and spiritually it’s not futile. Eccl 3:1-8 “For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die, a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted, a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a dime to dance; a time to cast stones, and a time to gather stones; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.”

These verses have actually summarized the last 10 years of my blogs. And while I have lost a lot of memories due to the hacking, miraculously, they didn’t get to my online blog. I retain these past 10 yeas of our story.

In the meantime, I’m off social media and have even turned off the news; if you knew me, you would understand how astounding that is for a political junkie. It was necessary to create some distance and discipline from the mental noise of resistance to transformation. I’m enjoying the stillness and spaciousness of just being. I trust that this time will serve my soul well.

I also trust that right now good people, hundreds of thousands of good people, are publicly expressing the call for change and helping to bend that arc of justice. I am so in awe of you. 

I will spend my time praying and meditating and sending out good energy of love and light and heavenly entreaties of healing for us all. And if moved by the spirit to write, I will continue to be a witness and write some of it down. 

Ps-I would like to thank Rich who has edited hundreds of his dyslexic wife's blogs over the last 10 years. He truly has been my biggest fan--supports everything I do. I love him MORE than words. But here are a few. https://lifeislifebykimb.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-best-is-yet-to-come.html

100,000

                     

100,000

Americans Dead

Coronavirus

5/27/20

😪

Happy 50th Earth Day

Dear Earth, thank you for inspiring me wherever I go. There so much beauty that I live in perpetual awe. I know that we have not always taken good care of you; in fact, we have managed to hurt you in ways that are incalculable. But now you are getting a break from us all because of Covid19. You deserve it. The sky is clearer. The canals and rivers are resting and repopulating. The whole eco system (macro and micro) is deciding what to do with us. Between climate disruption and pandemics, that should give us pause. Coronavirus living is a big time out for humans. We've all been grounded and sent to our rooms to think about what we have done. Hopefully, we will someday come out of this learning our lessons. You only wish for us to be in harmony with nature. You don't expect a lot from us. It's obvious that all you require is to be homeostasis as well as interdependent and interconnected. I hope we find our way back to that original state of being with you. I hope we all evolve. I don't have any tangible gifts to offer you on this 50th Earth Day Anniversary (next year I will plant a tree in your honor). I can only offer my personal commitment to be an good steward of Earth and continue to advocate for you all of my remaining days; it's the least I can do to say thank you for all the glorious opportunities you have given my soul. 

Forever yours, Kim 

Coronavirus Pandemic 2020

The only thing I can write about this month is the Coronavirus. Covid 19 is here. 

As I write, this is the beginning. Not the middle. It’s certainly not the end. As of March 29th, there are 2,112 deaths (according to the CDC website).

I saw this coming. Back in January, I remember telling Rich over the phone while he was out of town, “Something is happening in Wuhan China. They just shut down and quarantined 23 million people because of a virus. They are building two hospitals in 10 days.” My Spidey senses were on alert. I was going to watch this story.

The Chinese doctor who was the whistle blower, the man who told the world about the Covid19 story, sent a warning over the WeChat messaging app advising fellow med school grads to wear protective clothing to avoid infection because several patients from a local seafood market exhibited symptoms similar to SARS.  Li Wenliang was 34 years old; he succumbed to this horrific respiratory disease on Feb 7^th.

I have a friend from my Tibetan Terrier group who works for a Chinese airline. They were making dramatic changes in staff and cancelations. She was vacationing in the area. All of China shut down. Soon it spread to North Korea and Japan. Michelle wrote about it. We watched and worried if she’d get home or would they be delayed and quarantined.

Then the virus hopped over to Italy. That’s when I knew the gig was up. There was no denying this virus was not contained. Life as we knew it was going to change. Just like it changed Italy overnight.

Our country was slow to respond with testing and quarantine. We are Americans; we value our freedom and rights (sometimes at our own peril). The leadership in our government was minimizing Covid 19 and contradicting lead infectious disease scientists with an alternative narrative. Soon, Covid 19 was in Washington State. We were seeing a cruise liner with thousands of passengers stranded off CA circling out at sea. They had 21 confirmed coronavirus cases on the ship; but it was out to sea, right?

Then, the first Covid 19 death happened in our country at a nursing home in Washington State. The government told us all not to worry; soon it will be all over-in April when it gets warmer out; only seniors and people with compromised immune systems could contract the virus and die . But that has proven false and misleading. Over time, the coronavirus spread all over America. 

There is no vaccine or cure if you contract the virus and your immune system doesn’t have the strength to fight it. This Covid19 isn’t your normal flu. It’s a new virus. Our bodies have not been exposed to it before. It kicks grown men's asses. We don't have the antibodies yet to fight it. 

There are not enough ventilators to meet the respiratory demand if this spreads throughout our nation’s hospitals. The only upside is that children are spared; however, they can be carriers.  It’s spreading like wild fire because you can unknowingly contract the virus before symptoms appear. That’s’ why they ask people to self-quarantine for two weeks. 

The first few months when it was happening outside America, I don’t think most people were even paying attention. Certainly, nobody expected that our economy or the sports world would shut down overnight. People took notice when Tom and Rita Hanks tested positive for Coronavirus in Australia. All of a sudden we knew someone we cared about who had the Coronavirus. This all happened on the same day.

Trump got Dr. Anthony Fauci, the head of the NIH, who advised 6 other presidents on HIV/AIDS, and other pathogenesis and treatments, to head up the Vice President’s Coronavirus Team. He picked the right person. I could write a whole blog about Trump’s actions during this time and my reactions to it. But, I’ll let history lay it out for all to see, Trump’s own words, Tweets, and actions. Future generation can decide for themselves. Personally, we’ve been through the Mueller Report, Impeachment Trial, and now this; those things were a walk-in-the-park. His leadership is frightening to me. I don't like the games he plays with America’s governors who are critical of the the administrations free enterprise response when they are in desperate need of help. People have died and will die. It's unforgiveable.

Thankfully, we have Dr. Fauci (he contradicts Trump often with the scientific facts). Fauci is at least giving us the factual representation of the coming pandemic; he’s not concerned with the Stock Market; he’s concerned with saving lives, bracing hospitals, and informing Americans of the seriousness of this pandemic. Even while Trump minimized the threat early on, Fauci got the administration to enact a country wide voluntary 15 day Shelter-In-Place to flatten the curve of the spread of the virus.  And as of tonight, March 29th, the President said that the National advisory to Shelter-At-Home has been "extended to April 30th. And that if we don't do mitigation, there will be millions of deaths. And WITH mitigation, it could be 100,000 to 200,000 deaths." That is beyond anything our hearts can comprehend. But it's coming and it's grim news. 

Social distancing was put in place; stand 6 feet apart. People were told to wash their hands (which boggles the mind that people were not already doing that). There was a run on toilet paper (as some feared that they would have to stay inside in quarantine with their families. 

I’ve never loved Kevin so much for buying me a toilet seat attachment bidet for Christmas! 

Now the Covid 19 virus is in NYC; it’s truly a war zone. I watch the confirmed cases go up daily, along with the number of deaths. But those numbers are not even accurate. They are two weeks behind. And we are months behind in testing to know the true scope of where the virus is in our country, and how many Americans are infected.

New York, once again is, in effect, a viral ground zero. The Governors of America are pleading daily with the Trump administration for help (financial relief, ventilators, PPE-personal protection equipment, and government oversight with the Defense Production Act). Nurses and doctors are posting moving pleas on social media for equipment daily. They are reporting what is happening since no reporters are allowed inside.

I am grateful to Gov. Cuomo for his daily pandemic briefings; they are concise and thorough and full of empathy and boldness. I appreciate his leadership for ‘such a time as this.’ He is America’s governor right now. Chicago, Detroit, NJ, and soon Florida will be in dire need as new hot spots. Florida Governor, Ron DeSantis, has refused to shut down Florida and didn’t close beaches until after spring break. Florida has an enormous senior population. In two or three weeks of this blog post, here in Paradise, there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. The death toll will be hard to comprehend in the months to come. The hospitals will bear a great burden it’s never seen before (even through past hurricanes). 

Something that is not being talked about right now, is additional disasters are looming with hurricane, tornado, and fire season coming; we have no plans for displaced infected people. And then there are the people who are in need of medical assistance such as diabetes, cancer, heart attack or stroke, and car accidents. There is not enough medical supplies, medicine, staff, or beds to help all those in compromising medical distress. People are going to die-lots of them. Over the next year, people we may know or people we care about are going to die. I’m already seeing people I know whose friends have died. It’s already heart wrenching watching the news and I don’t know these people; just their stories.

My dear friend, Roo, is in the hospital right now. He is a double transplant (heart and lung recipient). At first they thought he may have Covid19 because of his sudden pneumonia. He’s hanging on with a prayer and ventilator intervention. The part that is distressing for us all is to witness Erika, his sweet heart and wife, unable to be there with him because they can’t visit the hospital. She can’t hold his hand, pray over him, kiss his cheek, or keep him warm and comfortable. Their girls are missing their daddy and wish they could visit. This is a painful reality that none of us want to experience. People we love and adore will be left alone in a hospital during the pandemic; many will die alone.

I have a host of feelings that range from shock, sadness, rage, and personal fears that keep me vigilant and processing my feelings in the moment; it’s all I can do. There is no controlling this virus.

There is no blood sacrifice that I can paint over my door. Like the 10 Plagues brought on by Pharaoh’s resistance to bow to God and free the Israelites; I wonder if the Coronavirus will come to my door or pass on by? Will it take anyone in our family? Will it take me? Will this be my last year on earth? Will I be able to survive it with my lung struggles?

I’ve got respiratory issues from past bouts of pneumonia and bronchitis. For weeks, my lungs have felt heavy when I take a deep breath; and a dry cough comes out of nowhere. Are my lungs dealing with something? Or am I just feeling the weight and concern of humanity as we wait and watch together?

My biggest frustration is that we are not learning from history. People are still not taking seriously the importance of social distancing. They are putting themselves and others in harms way. At this point, it’s basic math and science, people. The sooner we all stop complaining and follow the rules, the sooner this will all go away and we can get back to a new normal.  

Besides death and suffering with this disease, we have all been leveled economically.  As of March 16^th, consumerism stopped. My yoga therapy and coaching practice came to a stop. Everything Rich had in the hopper for RDR came to a halt. Like so many companies, universities, and schools are all trying to get on line to connect and continue business virtually. Zoom, Skype, and Google are really making out right now. Many smaller businesses or retail stores are out of luck until the virus goes away due to herd immunity or a vaccination (that’s a year or 18 months away). My brother and sister-in-law lost their jobs within days of each other. Over 3 million people became unemployed within one week.  

Kevin drives a truck all over America. All the restaurants at the truck stops are closed. He was planning to get off the road after 3 long years. But, now this will keep him busy. America needs our truck drivers to keep food and medical supply lines open. I worry that he’s not getting a hot meal each night; eating Spaghetti O's or tuna in a can and crackers off the shelf. That's not very healthy. The good news, he’s an expert at social distancing; so being a truck driver may be to his advantage. (If I can just get him to stop vaping, I wouldn’t worry as much.)  I feel so much gratitude to Kevin and other truck drivers. As well as others who are on the front lines making sure our country survives. They are heroes. 

I’m wondering how much this virus has put us all in a reactive response state of fight, flight, freeze, or faint? Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs are physiological(food, water, warmth, sleep, sex, rest), safety(security, employment, healthy, property, protection), belonging(friends, lovers, family), esteem(respect, confidence, achievement), and self-actualization(morality, creativity, problem solving, lack of prejudice, acceptance of facts). 

I have moments of going up and down the Hierarchy list--from feeling emotional and scared to problem solving and having a weird acceptance of it all. I’ve talked over worst-case scenarios with Rich. If we get the virus, die, or someone we love gets the virus, that is the worst case scenario. Period. Everything else after that is just the regular old impermanence of life; we all avoid that reality. When we get close to it, we feel pretty scared deep down. Will I experience PTSD from this? Or will I experience PTG (Post Traumatic Growth)?

My grandmother, Margaret Melley, was born in 1912. She lived to be 96 years old. I had dozens of conversations over the years about what it was like to grow up losing a father as a little girl, living though the Great Depression, WWII, and then losing her husband as a single mother if three. She told me stories: how she stood in bread and coffee lines, how they sewed and mended socks, how they only got an orange for Christmas and it was the best gift ever. She had an appreciation for all she had come through, and all her mother had to go through alone without a husband too. I would ask her how she dealt with all the hardships. She would always tell me without any drama in her words and a shrug of her shoulders, “It was all we knew. We just accepted it. What are you going to do?”

During this very difficult time, with many unknowns in our future, I hear my grandma in my head. She is keeping me balanced and brave. I realize that I come from a long line of strong women who have endured heartbreak and loss. WE all come from a long line of survivors; our ancestors have sustained awful trials and passed on their strong DNA. They are all inside of us right now. We are here because of them.

I am doing a lot of breath work each day to increase my lung strength. I’m eating healthy and not eating out-not even delivery. I may just become a skinny vegan after all. Rich and I are taking gratitude walks daily; sharing what we are thankful for all along our 3-mile walk-social distancing from everyone. Our friend Bruce has a mantra that we are adopting: "All I have is this moment. All I need is this moment. I am wrapped in God's love in this  moment. May I be a refuge to those in need in this moment." 

When 9/11 happened, initially it was localized in NYC, DC and PA. We were in shock and scared. We all immediately grieved as a country; we shared stories and hugged one another. Soon, we knew who killed Americans and our soldiers went off to war, thousands of miles away to defeat a known enemy in Afghanistan and then Iraq. 

This time we can’t come together; we have to stay away from each other or risk infecting or killing someone with Covid19. This isn’t a national holiday; it’s an emergency of epic proportions. But we are all in this together as we stay away from each other.

My day in the sun as a “germaphobe” has finally arrived. Let the light shine bright and disinfect the hell out of everything. My new mantra is “Give me bleach or give me death.” You could eat off my floors now.  I’m finding time to settle into my introverted self without feeling guilty or the responsibility to be anywhere. I can be at home in my PJ’s all day. C’mon, that’s pretty cool, isn’t it?

I’ve been getting up and meditating every day for about 10-20 minutes (sometimes Buddha joins us). I’ve been making every meal (since Rich is working non-stop to try to resurrect his 20 year training business and transition to virtual training). Even though we have financial concerns along with others, I’m oddly content and happy. 

Buddha joins me for meditation

Life has slowed down. I realize the only thing that is truly important: LOVE. I can’t control anything that is happening to us personally or to those I love or care about, or to my country. My only job right now is to reach out and stay connected to family and friends. I’m making time to call people. I'm using Zoom conversations or technology like Marco Polo (which is so fun). I put off so many conversations. Now, I have the time.  We are doing our best to listen and comfort one another; laughing at the absurdity and pausing for the seriousness of it all. How does it get any better than that? I don’t know. But I look forward to how God and the Universe shows up and expresses itself fully-just as it’s supposed to be.  

Talking to my friend on Marco Polo

In the meantime, I’ll do my best to realize that what is happening is “all we know.” I’ll do my best to not fantasize and indulge about life as it should be-that will only keep me stuck in mental anguish and deplete my spiritual, emotional, and physical reserves.  

We all want to feel connected during this forced global separation. We all want to belong. Let’s make sure everyone knows that they matter. Don’t let anyone feel alone during this time. Don’t wait for people to call you. Life is fragile and enduring. What we may realize now is that we are all truly interconnected. What affects one person affects us all.  

A gift left on my doorstep from Lyric and Holly as we social distance.

The world is on a massive time out. The smog is clearing up in cities. There is less pollution. We are using less plastic and coal. I’m curious if we’ve actually procured a little more time to save our planet. I’m hoping we’ll learn some things; and a new generation of innovators will step up. People will be forced to eat less-certainly different. Maybe we’ll realize that we don’t need all those latte’s or shoes or clothes or cars. Maybe we’ll do with less when we get on the other side of this? And for the love of soapsuds, people will wash their damn hands more.

I know The Greatest Generation was altered after the depression and WWII. They lived with a different appreciation and set of values. Maybe our values for ‘things’ will diminish? Hopefully, we won’t come out of solitude, like gluttons, and eat and buy everything in sight because we were a spoiled generation that never wants to go without again? The Greatest Generation was frugal and lived simply. We shall see. Personally, I’m hoping it’s a global reset of greater consciousness. We all need to save our plant, our relationships, and our hungry, exhausted souls.

PS-People of earth, stop eating bats too. Thank you on behalf of everyone.

“And the people stayed home. And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently.
"And the people healed. And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless, and heartless ways, the earth began to heal.
"And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed." ~Kitty O'Meara  (Kathleen O Meara, a writer from the late Victorian period during a pandemic (1839-1888) 

Sweet Truth

True confession: the last month, with the move, I have been on a sugar kick that would match any person with serious alcohol or drug addiction. Binge eating on Jelly Beans, Skittles, cookies, anything that gave me that huge artificial hit of pleasure (activating the reward system in the brain causing the release of dopamine). This affects serotonin levels, messing with our neurotransmitters that help keep our mood stable. I know when I'm in trouble: I hide my sugary drugs. Plumbers were over and I hid my jelly beans in silverware drawer. I stop eating nutritional foods. I gained weight. I feel shame and out of control. Many of us have been here in one way or another. 

I find reestablishing healthy boundaries and patterns get me back on track. My friend and I are committed for Lent to eat only what is good for us. I'm two days off sugar. I'm making sure to meditate more than normal (adding extra few minutes throughout the day here and there). Taking long walks and reconnecting with nature (even though I have a ton of things to do). I created a chart to check off each day that I accomplished my priorities for wellbeing  (that gives you a natural dopamine hit). Movement, breathwork, nutritional food, laughter, and love). I took a whole day to unwind and settle my frustration and disappointments and fears. I may need one more day. Rest is good. There is always a way out of our bad choices and ways to reset our brain and body. Structure, accountability, grace move me forward. How about you? 🙏💚🌱

You Can't Take It With You

I’ve been purging a lot to prepare for an upcoming move across town. 

ALL BOOKS

 It’s the 4^th move in 5 years.  I thought I got rid of a lot of stuff with each prior move.

As we’ve gotten older, The kids (Adam, Sarah, April, Kevin) have moved away and moved on; there has been no need to keep things around hoping they will come back—hoping that we can pass things on to them or the grandkids. They have their own lives; they too are now in the process of accumulating: memories, items from their travels, things passed down, piles of papers, their own children’s drawings and cards, tiny teeth, buttons, and love notes. It all means something in the moment.

Past moves across country, across state, and across town didn’t impact me as much; maybe because I still had so much stuff; it just seemed like I was skimming off the top of all my stuff. “I don’t need 2 sets of Christmas dishes.”

This move came with a set intention that seemed to drop out of nowhere in my mind—become a minimalist. What the hell did that even mean? I had to go look it up.

I found minimalism fascinating, frightening, frustrating, and freeing. I’m on the front end of this minimalist exploration. Rich is all on board; he’s naturally always been a minimalist. If he died, there would be nothing to give away. He gave Adam his bowling ball. Sarah and April his bibles, Kevin probably has something too; I just don’t remember what it is?

Deciding to free myself from so much ‘stuff’ has produced a duel sense of sadness and acceptance.

I am getting older and I know time is limited. Life is short. I had two friends die in one year. I feel increasingly lonely—more than I have ever felt in my life. Friends and family are spread out all over the country. We are all busy. We live in a world where people just text and nobody really connects or calls. You can be sitting with people and they always have a phone in their hand. Or they are off to their next scheduled event; not really making time for you when you show up; you have to fit into their lives. We cheer each other on social media instead of supporting each other in person, in real life. But what is real life in 2020?

We have gotten away from harmony with nature and each other. If we can’t connect with nature and the nature of ourselves, how can we connect with each other? I need to bring more awareness of that to my life; I feel it to the core of my being. I seriously want to go back to a 1975 mindset; we turned in our glass pop bottles for coins to go to the movies because we didn’t have much plastic; mood rings and PEZ candy; we could recall from memory, all our friend’s and families’ phone numbers; we called and talked for hours; we’d spend the day together instead of a quick lunch or dinner; we took long walks together to the ice cream store; we wrote letters; we planned to make special visits and reunions because we missed each other. We made sure people felt cared for and connected. We nurtured relationships over needing to zone or chill out with Netflix. 

We need to learn how to re-humanize; I need to learn how to re-humanize my life. I seriously want to take off a year on social media. But I’m not sure I can do that? Because, how will I know what you are all doing otherwise? Social media (while imperfect) is a kind of necessary 21^st century community. We don’t walk down the street to our neighbor’s house to chat anymore. We don’t drop in. We drop in on social media to see what’s up with everyone we care about. If I went off social media, who will ever talk to me? It makes me so profoundly sad; it takes my breath away. I would practically disappear into the void of non-existence. Because, truth-be-told, in a pathetic way, social media validates my existence for now. All those I previously knew and loved, would stop commenting or liking or relating. It would be entirely upon my shoulders to maintain any kind of real relationship apart from social media. And that burden is too much to bear all by myself. At least on social media it feels kind of reciprocal. Off social media, it takes work to maintain friendships. People don’t want you to drop over or call. In 1975, it didn’t take that much work. It didn’t take to much work in 1985, 1995. 2005.

With all the stuff in bins and boxes, I’m carrying extra weight emotionally, spiritually, and yeah, probably physically too. I didn’t realize how much I was carrying around until I had to decide to go through it and get rid of it.

Some of those ‘things’ I have collected over the years I took on responsibility for being the keeper of the memories—my grandmother’s memories.

About 15 years ago, she was downsizing; moving from a studio apartment to an even smaller room on the assisted living floor. I came over to help her purge. My grandmother’s apartment was eclectic—filled with classic artwork and inexpensive sentimental treasures from all her travels from all over the world. She loved ALL her things; I loved all her things. But she loved her books most of all.

She sat in a chair and I pulled each book off the shelf one by one. She decided which book would go to me and which book she would keep. She’d tell me, “You have to read this book. It’s a wonderful story. One of my favorites.” I’d smile and tell her I’d read it some day. This went on for about 20 minutes. “You have to read this book. It’s my favorite. It means so much to me. Promise me you’ll read it.” After about the tenth time, I made the mistake of saying, “I can’t promise you that I’ll read this, Gram.” She huffed about how her books mean the world to her and that nobody understands. She was really mad at me. She was mad at my Aunt (her daughter) who wasn’t even in the room. She said something mean and I told her to stop being unfair to my Aunt. She got up and went over to her bed, lay down, and turned her back away from me and cried. Just because I couldn’t promise I’d read all her books? I’m so damn literal. Why couldn’t I just lie to her? I should have.

I had no idea until this move what was going on in her heart; she had to let go of all the things that brought her joy; she couldn’t fit all these special things into her next stage of life. It hurt her deeply. She was mad at me and mad that my Aunt was making her move (she wasn’t). She knew what moving into assisted living meant, and feared this would be her last move.

My Gram had passed on so many of her possessions because she couldn’t carry them with her. I knew how much they meant to her. And because I knew the story behind each book, each statue, each jar, each dish, each framed picture, I carried them. I treasured them for her.

If I had to guess why I’m leaning towards minimalism it’s probably a few things:
I can’t maintain space for it all (kid stuff, grandma stuff, my stuff).
I want to try to consume fewer things that impact the planet (plastic, clothing, food). Wouldn’t you agree we are out of control with consumption of stuff?
The world is on fire or drowning in natural disasters. It affects me. I realize every day people are losing everything they own. I donate money so they can rebuild. I tell myself each time I see it, “Travel light, Kim. That could be you; it’s just stuff.” 

I see the world burdened all around me with clutter; we have no room anymore for each other. We’re so busy building castles in the sand. We spend all our time working to pay for stuff. I’m kind tired of all the stuff and how it drives me to indulge or squirrel away things that devalue (just like a car when you drive it off the lot).

While purging, I came across things that embarrassed me that I purchased: clothes with tags on them; I found a brand new professionally fitted $178 French bra. I wore it once because the underwire was so painful after 30 minutes. I didn’t care how much it lifted and separated. It hurt like hell. That was the last time I wore a underwire bra. The truth is, only surgery can fix boobs once you’re in your 40s; that nugget of truth is free. Accept that sooner and all of life gets better!

I was sad that I had nobody to really give away some of my sentimental or valuable things. Who wants a Toot-a-Loop Radio from the 70s that held a story about the first miracle I ever experienced? What about all my political protest buttons and t-shirts? I’ve got jewelry and art (even my own art). Because we don’t live in community or close proximity, or have years of history with friends, I couldn’t say to friends or family, “Come over this Sunday and go through my things. Take whatever you want. I’ll make you dinner.”

I declared to Rich that we we’re gonna be more minimalist. He watched in awe as I tackled each closet and shelf with Maria Kondo commitment. It was painful. I felt so sad as I read old letters from friends and then tossed them. I saved every cork from every bottle of wine I shared with my girl friends. When it came time to purge the books I felt an ache in my soul. Now I know how my Grandmother felt. I wanted to call up Kevin and say, “Hey, I know you don’t meditate right now. But someday you may want to. I’ve got 20 meditation books here for you that really meant a lot to me. I mean, they are really important to me. Promise me someday you’ll read them. Will you take them?” He wouldn’t have wanted them; I never read all the books that my grandmother passed on to me. So I donated them all—twenty-three bags of books between Rich and me. 

My grandmother has been gone for 11 years. She would be mortified to know that I gave some of her stuff away to the local Buy Nothing Group (you gift things to people for free). To deal with the guilt, I asked my brothers if they wanted a few things. They did; thank God. I told Rich I felt so responsible carrying all her stuff; even though I loved each thing I had. But it all sent me into an unexpected, inconsolable anguish. I felt like Steve Martin in The Jerk, “All I need is this lamp, this remote control, this chair.” Then I realized I had to get rid of my grandmother’s chair too.  I was in a puddle of tears, in a fetal position, crying, mourning all over again. I was seeing her life slowly dissolve. All her stories were attached to her things. If her cherished possessions were gone, would I remember them? Would she cease to exist? And not too far behind her is me; all my things and stories will soon be gone. 

With that realization, I still held on to the most special items Gram passed on to me: a candy box, a crystal candy nut dish, a framed Chagall print, a small vase with plastic violets, and all her travel Christmas ornaments from around the world, her Charles Lamb Tales From Shakespeare and Emily Post’s 1922 book on Etiquette, Copenhagen’s Little Mermaid statue, and my great grandmother’s cross stitch linen; they bring me joy.

Geez, what crazy madness did I sign up for choosing to live more minimalist? This sucks! When do I feel a free mind and more spaciousness in my soul? When is that feeling going to kick in? Obviously, I must still be pretty emotionally attached to my stuff. Again, it’s like in the movie The Jerk, when Bernadette Peter’s cries after losing her fortune, “It’s not the money, it’s the stuff.” 

Tick tock; life is impermanent. It just is. I’m only now beginning to understand that truth. Now I see why we unconsciously collect so many things; it makes some of this life seem real.  

Minimalism is the art of letting go. This next stage is what I’m calling my ‘essential stage.’ I’m not sure what that’s going to look or feel like? I hope it’s less cluttered and only what’s needed. I hope it’s calm and Zen like.  I hope it’s more communal. I’m making space for that right now. Come on over, we’ll have some tea and catch up.