Sylvia's Journal

We are just about a whole new month into the pandemic and the horizon (that used to represent the idea of getting back to normal) is receding. It is now abundantly clear to me that we will be in this pandemic for the rest of the year and possibly the next. There are times when this thought exhausts and depresses me, but then I look around me and am comforted that we are in this together. Paradoxically, this ‘togetherness’ is also a dread, as we now know how this togetherness prolongs the pandemic. 

Where at first the disappointments were about things missed, like our trip to Holland, they are now about things not coming back as they were, longer term expectations that I now know will not be met, ever again. This shuffles me between a mood of doom and gloom and reluctant acceptance. And sometimes just denial. My meditation practice helps, as my teacher reminds me to ‘be here now,’ and let go of all these expectations, and projection in from of me and regrets behind me.

Being grateful and appreciative also helps. Compared to so many millions of people I am privileged, blessed and lucky. Yet I cannot avoid hearing and seeing the vitriol and the pain, suffering and loss that feel like a suffocating blanket at times. I avoid TV altogether but newspapers I do read. I am not withdrawing from the world.

I continue the South Africa on-demand-coaching. These are short (often single) sessions with individuals and teams. I listen, ask questions, sometimes share a story, a framework, a thought. I look forward to these conversations. They lift me up to a higher place. I see higher and further as I learn how others, halfway around the world, are experiencing the pandemic.  I experience the positive side of togetherness and the power of compassion, which literally means suffering together.

Despite the stresses and ugliness of the present time, nearly always something good ‘walks’ into our sessions. Sometimes that is the kid that crawls on mommy’s lap, the young boy talking excitedly how is going to kill the bad guys or his older brother saying he burned the broccoli (and what else can he stir fry instead). Sometimes it’s the cat that walks across the screen, making keyboard sounds, or a loving husband with a glass of wine, as the day is over in Pretoria. 

I learn that the sense of overwhelm is always there and that most people are simply coping, not really living, until they realize they are still living and that there is still good around them, like the child, the pet, the husband with the glass of wine.

I often ask the people I coach to reflect on what they need to let go of, what they need to let be, and what they need to let in. Most people know. And then, when we meet again, sometimes several weeks later, they see that they accomplished these three things, and are happier for it.

Our grandson has turned 8 today. I remember my birthday party when I turned 8; I believe I even have it recorded on double 8mm film. It’s an important event. He decided to celebrate it at his grandparents’ house. And so, we started the complicated affair of arranging for a birthday party with his other grandparents (he has 3 sets), two cousins, two aunties and uncles – staggered appearances, and 6 feet apart. It’s a complicated affair. When you think you have it figured out in the abstract, implementing the great ideas with surgical cleanliness is another thing altogether. We are learning as we go. We are stricter than maybe necessary, but we rather not take any risks, especially since one of the little cousins has spent many weeks of her four years in the hospital to manage a dangerous congenital health problem.

The grandkids arrived last night with their parents. We already have had a weekend together so that was easy as this did not require surgical cleanliness.

More challenging was my morning routine of meditation and stationary biking. As usual, I got up at about 5:30AM, which I have been doing most of the time for the last week because that is already 12:30PM in Madagascar. The birthday boy was also awake at that time (and then woke his sister), so thinking I could do my morning routine quietly was sunk.

I decided that we may as well meditate together. I showed the 4 year old some of Andy’s (Headspace) animations about stilling the mind, which she liked a lot. And then I sat in my meditation chair while Faro laid down on the yoga mat and Saffi snuggled under my arm. I am well advanced in my meditation training, so I took this new arrangement in stride. To my great surprise and delight, we all did meditate, Faro was still the entire 10 minutes; Saffi couldn’t help poking me from time to time, but she eventually got the idea.

The biking was a little more challenging with two kids watching as I exerted myself, and Faro kept talking about things (Minecraft) I don’t understand anything about. My not understanding didn’t seem to matter and he continued chattering about the intricacies of Minecraft (‘he, Oma, did you know this that you can’t get to…?”). 

Once I was done, showered and dressed, I was still the only adult awake while Faro was eyeing his decorated birthday table and the presents stacked on top of each other. It was hard for him to wait. I asked him about the famous (but also now debunked) marshmallow test that he did when he was younger. I am not sure he remembered. When I asked him whether he ate the marshmallow when the experiment leader left the room or waited for his/her return to get a second marshmallow, he said he ate it. I could have expected that answer. Why would I assume a kid would say he had not; marshmallows are for eating after all. 

The kids then discovered Alexa which has crept into our house as a freebie addition to a new wireless system. Our daughters disapprove mightily about this intrusion into our privacy, but we are kind of liking it, and the grandkids loved it. Alexa was kept very busy with requests for lame jokes (Alexa has much more patience than we do). Faro discovered he could get her to sing happy birthday (in the absence of the parents who were still sleeping – a nice bonus so I didn’t have to sing it by myself). 

He tested Alexa about the capital cities of countries in Africa (yes, Alexa knew about Antananarivo). And then they discovered you could get Alexa to make dog or cat sounds (do you want a spooky dog sound, a whiny dog sound, a sad dog sound or random?). Saffi learned the word ‘random’ and soon all sorts of dogs were barking, with an occasional meow. Alexa even knew some songs that had dogs barking the tune. What fun.

I was a little concerned when they asked for something and Alexa answered with ‘that requires an upgrade to premium. Would you like me to arrange that for you?” I had to shut Alexa up and gave the kids a lecture about never saying yes to a robot, as it is not a real person but an information gathering and marketing machine –  a hard concept to teach to trusting kids. These kids will grow up with robots, but for now, I don’t want to see a whole pile of Amazon prime boxes on my doorsteps of kids who ordered birthday presents for themselves, egged on by Alexa. We’ll see.

I cut my husband’s hair this morning. He insisted. Our daughters don’t allow us to go to hair salons – as these were labeled ‘high risk’ in a review to help us adjust to the current new normal. I had made an appointment and was sad to have to cancel, but our daughters are right. A stylist stands in back and above you, and you are just one of multiple clients during the day – therefore, high risk.

So, I have started to wear scarves to keep those darn wings in check and promised Axel I would cut his hair. This morning it was time. He sharpened the scissors and sat down in a chair outside. 

I had watched a few videos about how to cut a man’s curly hair, but all those men had heads that had nothing in common with Axel’s. In the process of my Google search (how to cut a man’s curly hair) some other questions were proposed, including one that said: at what age are men at their most handsome? (It turns out to be 29, stretching into 36).

It turns out that haircutting is much more difficult than I thought. It always looks so effortless when a professional does it, snip-snip. But then of course these snippers have 200 dollar scissors. Our scissors are a bit old and tired, despite this morning’s sharpening effort.  (Why are scissors plural?)

I wasn’t very methodical, mostly because I had none of those clips, and also was impatient. It soon became willy-nilly snipping. Axel got a little worried as he saw large clumps of hair float by on the breeze. I improvised until he said enough. He washed his hair and I am very impressed with myself. Now he is eager to cut my wings off, but I think I’ll hold off till my daughters show up next weekend. It’s been exactly 3 months since my last haircut.