Sylvia's Journal

There are more cosmic swings on the way, a major drought in California, a grasshopper plaque in East Africa, earthquakes in Utah and Italy, and a snow storm coming our way tomorrow with a predicted 3 inches of snow. I am going to need to talk to the baby leeks and daffodils, to tell them to duck and cover.

The  finches are busy with the thistle seeds, blissfully ignorant of the impending snow storm, as well as our all encompassing corona storm. The gigantic black crows are equally busy with foraging, taking apart the leftovers of either a red Anjou pear or an apple. With no one around we wondered where they found those. I used to throw what was left of my home commute apple into the forsythia bush. But I haven’t been commuting for ages and apple cores now go into the freezer bag with vegetable and fruit remains that I will turn into a broth at some point.

All creatures are preoccupied with food and I must admit we are too, though vastly better prepared than the crows and finches. We are missing some ingredients that would, in the past, led to a quick excursion to the local grocery store where we would buy those as well as more stuff we didn’t need.  Now, going to the grocery store feels like a daunting expedition. Our daughters are discouraging us from such an expedition. We take another  look at our supplies and decide with a slight sigh that we can wait, and cook something different than we had planned. Compared to the finches and crows, we have so many choices.

All the local groceries stores are now so overwhelmed with email orders and requests for delivery to car or home, that the wait time is one week or even more. Longer term planning, something we cannot do regarding any other aspect of our lives, is now required for food. 

On the recommendation of our daughter I subscribed us to Misfit Markets, a company that ships boxes full of surprise vegetables and fruits to anyone who is happy with less than perfectly polished, shaped and colored veggies and fruits. After many delays we got our first box yesterday. It was like a Christmas present. Out came an enormous green mango, a bunch of collard greens with flecks on the leaves that would not have been allowed entry into the supermarket, 3 undersized crispy apples, 3 undersized and not entirely orange oranges, a Euro cuke and its American cousin, a box of perfectly fine cherry tomatoes in a poorly wrapped plastic container, 3 large beets, a gigantic turnip, a perfectly fine butternut squash, and a couple of large potatoes. Such fun, To my great delight I discovered that you can add some non veggie extras to the box, like Taza chocolate, which I promptly included into our next shipment.

Axel started to make bread (in a machine). It was so yummy & warm when done that we ate more than half of it in one sitting. He then prepared to make the dough for chapatis, since we are eating a lot of Indian food. A phone call distracted him and he got the quantities wrong. We added mroe flour and before we knew it we had enough dough to make chapatis for a large extended Indian family. He instructed me to get the chapati station ready and I kneaded and pounded and then rolled countless little balls in the 4 inch circles. Because we had gotten the proportions wrong they did not taste at all like real chapatis but this was easily corrected with butter. The remainder of the little dough balls disappeared into the freezer, next to the garbage soup bag of frozen vegetable debris. We really don’t need to go on a shopping expedition right now.

This morning during my early morning meditation the word ‘Cosmic Swing’ walked into my consciousness. Then, when I looked outside I saw large fluffy snowflakes fall out of the sky. It is mid-April, we should be seeing something other than snow, however lovely and fluffy the snowflakes. Then the cosmic swing lurched up and the sun shone and the buds opened up. Sometimes the swing goes very fast up and down and sometimes it has a more moderate pace, as the seasons are supposed to swing.

Focusing on the breath, and how it moves through the body is like a swing, in and out, up and down, which is probably why the words came to me though I am not sure it’s cosmic. But the pandemic does feel cosmic, with all all 7.8 billion of us sitting on the same swing.

Today I learned from my daily science briefing that babies may well enter the world without any viruses but their guts are invaded within a month. Apparently, these are friendly viruses that infect harmful bacteria. It’s hard to think of viruses as friendly but apparently many are. That’s good to know.

And now, a few hours after the snow squall, spring returned. The daffodils I planted last fall are emerging everywhere. They are my favorite spring bulbs because I like their shape and colors. I also like that the squirrels don’t eat the bulbs during their winter scavenger hunts. 

Unfortunately, the squirrels do seem to be as attracted to the flower buds as I am. Maybe they look appealing to eat, and so they bite them off and then, not liking them, drop them. It’s very sad to see those decapitated daffodils. It reminds me of sharing my precious Dutch licorice with American friends who then spit out these ‘dropjes’ I like so much. Daffodils or dropjes, I can’t undo what’s done. The pandemic sometimes feels like that – we can’t undo it. But then I push the swing back up in my mind and recall all the good things that are already happening and may come out of this, both on a personal level (families coming together, more time for kids to be with their frequent traveler moms and dads, no awful and lengthy commutes), on a planetary level (less pollution) and on a cosmic level (higher consciousness).

The thing with numbers is that you have to keep looking at them and keep collecting them, to see trends. I watched this animated counter about COVID19. It tells you something about leadership.

My personal numbers from two weeks ago have shifted only slightly, some things holding steady, others at rock bottom. They can only go up, like miles driven in our new car, or hugs with our grandkids.

Every morning the Gloucester Times has a little yellow box at the top of the front with the numbers: COVID19 cases confirmed and deaths, in the world, in the US, in Massachusetts and New Hampshire. It’s the first thing I scan after I have washed my hands that may be contaminated from removing its wrapper. All those numbers are trendng up, but some not as fast anymore, except in NH where the realization that this pandemic is for real appears to be finally sinking in.

My volunteer activities are picking up. The demand for my complimentary sessions is increasing. As I prepare for them through interviews and emails, all teams, no matter where they are in the world, appear to be struggling with the same thing: balance. Balance between attending to personal needs (the anxiety, worry, burnout, stress, sense of isolation or overwhelm), and the needs of others, and balance between attending to task (getting the work done) and process (how it is being done).

I see teams struggle to continue to work as if they are still in the office and as if the pre-pandemic team norms, whether implicit or explicit, still hold. Yet everything around them has changed. This is the next frontier I am heading for: understanding how to be of service to teams in times of unspeakable turmoil.

There is a very recalcitrant entry on my Google calendar that I haven’t been able to delete: at 2:30AM this morning (8:30AM in Holland) it reads: pick up car at Enterprise Car Rental at Schiphol airport. That’s now many hours ago. An entry that is petrified in the plans of a world that no longer exists. Even if we go back to whatever can be called ‘normal’ it won’t be quite the same normal as before, and all these petrified entries have to be re-considered.

Today, after Heather Cox Richardson’s daily peek under the hood of our government, I thought I’d call on any and all creative spirits in the world to create an animated version of the American Constitution. Maybe there are other art forms that that can explain to our president, in an attention span of no more than a couple of minutes, what our Constitution says. It may reduce the depth of the hole he is now digging for himself.

On a more personal note, I am going to spend some quality time this week with various teams that have taken me up on my offer for complimentary sessions. I am thinking of how best to help them stay grounded and find some sort of balance as work and home life collide. To my faithful readers, if you know of any team that could use some help, let me know.

Our two daughters managed to organize a surprise party on Zoom. They had found friends from different phases of our 40 years together: my siblings, nieces and nephews in Holland, and Axel’s cousins who are nearly like siblings; two of Axel’s housemates in Beirut, who saw the romance start; friends who saw my first marriage fall apart and helped me through the turbulence; friends from our years in Georgetown after we left Brooklyn,  from West Newbury, then Manchester; Sita and Jim’s family and friends from Tessa. 

People zoomed in from Florida, North Carolina, Colorado, Washington State, Maryland, as well as those nearby in Essex County; Holland of course, but also southern France. Two full computer screens with tiny images of people laughing and talking and toasting, one wriggling mass of friends. We had no idea they would have been able to bring togetehr that many people. I had expected just the people who would have been with us in Holland, two weeks from now.

It was a heartwarming reunion. We forgot all about the sadness of not being able to be physically together. People told tales, memories, and we smiled and drank the entire bottle of champagne while eating the frosted heart cake that we had assembled earlier. At the end of our celebration there was music (‘Happy Together’) and we danced – a dance party on Zoom, who would have thought that possible?

The beautiful weather had made way for another cold front that reminds us it is still winter here, even though the calendar says Spring. The daffodils don’t dare to bloom yet, and they are wise. We draw back inside and count our blessings.

I wrote a letter to the editor of one of our local newspaper which got published the next day under the title ‘US paying the price for foolish government decisions.’ It was inspired by my blogpost a few days ago (Connections).  I hope to get the attention of at least a few Republicans in our area who realize that their party line vote for Trump (or their not voting at all), was a bad idea. I hope that Biden will at least be a more acceptable alternative than their party ticket.

Today we woke up to a beautiful Easter morning. Easter is a special time for us – our love started in the Middle East around Easter time; we got married in Senegal a few years later, again around Easter time (April 12, 1980) and since 1985 we have celebrated Easter’s message of new beginnings with our dearest and nearest. This year the three events would have been at the same time: Easter, our wedding anniversary and our Easter party, and the weather, not always cooperating in the past, is perfect. But this year’s convergence of good things also converged with bad things and so we are celebrating in place.

Tessa sent us an ‘assemble-it-yourself’ cake: a heart shaped cake with a bag of frosting, ready for decorating. She also sent a friend, masked and gloved, to deliver a bottle of champagne which he placed on one of the septic tank covers, before stepping back 6 feet.

The effect was, as planned, very festive.  She is also organizing a Zoomfest for toasts, later today. We are immensely grateful – it will be are most unusual wedding anniversary/Easter/Easter party ever.

Due to a persistent tendinitis in my left shoulder, my (Zoom) violin lessons have been put on hold, just when the book with fiddle tunes from the Portland Collection arrived. I was working hard on two fiddle tunes, a practice now abandoned.  I will exchange one instrument for another, the ukulele, which doesn’t require a working shoulder, but can play fiddle tunes.  The ukulele has been playing second fiddle to the fiddle, and now the roles are reversed, at least for now.

‘At least for now’ is a new qualifier at the end of a phrase. My business had dried up, for now. I am letting my hair grow, for now. My only cardio exercise is on my stationary bike, for now. We don’t go into shops anymore, we don’t travel, for as long as ‘now’ will last. 

As for letting my hair grow, it is not by choice of course. I will have to sit Axel in front of a YouTube video to explain how to do a woman’s haircut. I will do the same for him. We can’t let ourselves go. This is one thing I learned from an British ex submarine commander who told his radio audience how he dealt with lockdowns that could last as long as 90 days – imagine that, under water! His main two lessons for lockdown novices were these: stick to routines (as in ‘get dressed and groom yourself!’) and keep your quarters clean. I am sticking to routines faithfully,  the meditation, the cardio exercise, the writing. House cleaning is not quite a routine yet – partially because we had outsourced house cleaning, and Axel did it in between visits from our cleaning lady. We continue to send her a check, but it’s us doing her cleaning. For now.

Count me the ways in which things are different – a new parlor game.  What was normal or taken for granted is now abnormal, special. What was special is now abnormal or even amoral.  

The new norm(al) is putting a different spin on ideas that were kind of ho-hum before. Like the idea that context matters. It is one of those truisms that someone utters from time to time, and then we continue as if context doesn’t matter. How much context matters is now becoming abundantly clear. As home life and work life merge, context not only matters even more than ever, context is suddenly visible, on our screens. Kids may enter a room where mom or dad is having a serious call. Everyone with a dog and a job is now bringing their pet(s) to work, like it or not. Dogs are probably the only creatures that like the new normal – lots of people home all day long, lots of tail wagging, yeah! Cats probably hate it, all those people underfoot.

Screen time used to be considered bad for kids, now it is imperative for them to have screen time. Not just for continuing their education or letting mom and/or dad work, but also for playdates with friends, and virtual hugs with grandparents who live someplace else.  Our daughter had been able to successfully limit screen time for her 4 and 7 year olds, but that is now out of the window. Who would have thought that screen time is now essential for our sanity, income and staying connected?

And then the devices. It’s no longer a luxury to have at least one per person, and either have a good warranty in case one malfunctions or a tech-savvy person in the house. Without the option of going to an internet café, malfunctions can have serious consequences we could not have imagined even a few months ago. I do wonder how this is going to work in the countries I have worked in where many of the preconditions for quarantine success are absent. Their governments may have been exemplary in their quick response to the threat, but how to implement the social distancing and quarantines is a big question mark – yet our collective success in flattening the curve depends on it, on them, on all of us.

And finally, there is the implication that single people are now on one long, possibly unwanted silent retreat. I had not thought about that until a (single) friend called me and mentioned it. Calling someone who is alone is now good medicine. I am making a list every morning of people to call, to reach out to, so that my call or message can, even if for a brief moment, break their silent retreat. 

I have started to offer complimentary ‘grounding’ sessions for organizations or teams I have worked with in the past. I will expand this shortly and put something on my website for anyone to take advantage of. It will keep me, at least professionally, on my toes.

Yesterday I did such a session with one team from my alma mater, MSH. One of the team members reflected on two things that deeply resonated with me: how we are all connected, across boundaries of any kind, when dealing with a highly contagious disease, and how health and economy are inextricably linked.

Having worked most of my professional life in the global health arena, these two statements are of the ‘duhhhh’ kind, truisms for us global/public health professionals. We know them to be true, and repeated them and over again. We said it in the introductions of books, the first slides of a PowerPoint presentation and opening remarks at conferences and workshops. But, except for the occasional deadly outbreak in a corner of some faraway country or region, for the privilged few (and those with power to act) these statements were just that, words that had been repeated so often that they had no power.

And now, look at us: economies in shambles, people feeling isolated, anxious, and many without any obvious means to support their families now and in the near future.  Employer-based health insurance seemed good enough to all people who had it (except to Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren and their followers) but that idea together with the belief that sick leave is a luxury, now lie on the garbage heap together with all the used gloves and masks.

In this new world we are living in now, I hope that the idea of interconnectedness (people, animals, economies) is taking on a new meaning and lead to action.

The most interesting and pertinent concept at this time is that of ‘One Health.’ It refers to a multisectoral and transdisciplinary approach focused on enabling optimal health outcomes by recognizing the interconnection between people, animals, plants, and their shared environment.  From the website of UC Davis, I learned that it was Dr. Calvin Schwabe — an epidemiology professor at the School of Veterinary Medicine — who coined the term “One Medicine” in his book, Veterinary Medicine and Human Health in 1964. 

A further exploration of the website revealed three staggering statements that may have come as a surprise to people only a few months ago. Now, I think most  people will accept them as ‘very likely true’ (rather than fake news): 1 in 6 people in the US alone will become sick from a foodborne illness at an estimated annual cost of $77 billion. Approximate 800 viruses were identified by the USAID-funded PREDICT project that were not previously known to science, and about 1.4 billion people are affected by mosquito-borne diseases each year.  And if you are curious about what else is out there, the One Health Initiative has its own website with a map of the world that tells you.

That everything and everyone is connected to everything and everyone else on this planet is something that chronically underfunded public health organizations have known forever and have tried to convince governments off: it pays to pay attention to public health (including maternal and child health, infectious disease prevention, family planning, etc.) – don’t get me going.

By the way, knowing what we know now, it is appaling to read about the shuttering last year of the PREDICT project by an anti-science, America-first administration. I wonder what the politically risk-averse people or those who thought the project was an expensive luxury (a basic research project) now think about that decision.

Yesterday we went on an outing to Tessa in NH, to get eggs. And so, we broke the seal.  We were careful. Axel pumped gas with gloves on at a roadside country store. I stayed in the car and watched the comings and goings in and out of the store. I noticed very little protection. No masks, no gloves and no 6 feet separation, as if nothing big was happening around them.  Our local newspaper gives us the daily numbers. NH is lagging behind, with only one half of a percent of the confirmed cases in MA and 9 deaths. We now know these numbers mean nothing if people are not tested or believe that they have the flu or allergies, and do not end up in a hospital; they simply get better but will have infected others, unknowingly. It’s like a balloon mortgage – suddenly there is the reckoning (which is by the way the title of another great Superintendent Gamache adventure written by Louise Penny).

It’s strange to go see your kid and not being able to embrace, and everyone with masks on, however cute the fabric. Tessa is using her top of the line sewing machine that makes me green with envy (she has a friend who has a sewing machine store) and is making masks for people out of vacuum cleaner bags and cute materials. While we were there she made Axel one with a bug fabric cover. He liked it better than the one I had made which was of a more subdued light blue fabric.  

We went for a long walk through the backwoods adjacent to their 7-acre land. Spring is not quite there but the woods are waking up. The three dogs were busy chasing anything that was foraging.

After our walk we sat on their deck, two pairs 6 feet apart, drinking G&Ts. Tessa was reluctant to take us into her house but when it started to drizzle it was either ending the visit or sharing the meal of smokehouse meats, beans and rice that we had picked up at a roadside stand on our way to Tessa.

And now we will go back into a 14 day quarantine. No one is visible sick but we play safe. We are learning more and more about this virus that can keep shedding before or after people have been sick. We were after all in contact, albeit from a distance, with Tessa’s husband who is the shopper in their house and has had more exposure in this State where people love their freedom to death.  And so, the seal is back on.