Sylvia's Journal

For the last 36 hours my body has been fighting the toxins that came from undercooked wild mushrooms. I lost about 5 pounds and didn’t sleep much. I also couldn’t get comfortable no matter how or where I would sit or lie down. Suffice to say, it was a miserable time.

I thought much about people who experience poisoning of any kind and live in a refugee camp, are on the run, and have no toilets or washing machines. I thought about people who share toilets with countless others. Amidst the bodily turmoil in the midst of a crisis, I counted my blessings and surrendered.

It occurred to me that we are in a similar planetary turmoil and fighting the turbulence. But the fighting doesn’t work, has never worked in the entire history of mankind. Fighting delays healing. One can try to fight one toxin with another – “I’ve got to have that cup of coffee or glass of beer when the body yells ‘no, no!’, and the misery is prolonged.

I see toxins all over the front page of our Sunday New York Times this morning. Greed is fueling unsavory practices in the pharmaceutical industry as there are great harvests to be reaped from pandemic cure-alls. Who would not want to buy the wonder drug? People’s stock portfolios are skyrocketing on the mere suggestion that a wonder drug is around the corner, so better take advantage of that and accumulate more riches.

It’s probably not a co-incidence that someone put the book ‘The Soul of Money’ by Lynne Twist on my path. It showed up on the Miro board we are creating in the Upcreate! project. I could have picked any of the 50 or so books that are on our virtual bookshelf.

I don’t think I would have bought a book with that title. As I was curled up in a ball while my body was busy getting rid of the toxins, I couldn’t put the book away. I learned that Lynne has a long association with The Hunger Project (THP). It is probably no co-incidence, again, that I applied for and have just been accepted as a volunteer coach for a yet to be determined senior staff member of THP in West Africa.

The book is timely in other ways as I work with teams and individuals in the US and in South Africa who are struggling with all the things that are missing. Lynne writes about the lie of scarcity that she claims is at the root of the toxins that have invaded our minds and from there leaked into our bodies, our communities, our countries, the soil, and the air. Today’s NYT magazine (the climate issue) bears witness to what our lie of scarcity has done to the land we rely on for our food and our livelihoods.

The lie of scarcity has focused our attention on everything that we don’t have, as opposed to what we do have. “No matter who we are or what our circumstances, we swim in conversations about what there isn’t enough of.” (Lynne Twist, 2017:43). Not enough time, not enough money, not enough sleep, not enough food, not enough respect, not enough love, not enough support…the list is endless. Yet, no matter who we are or what our circumstances, we do have a lot. And I am deeply and gratefully aware of all that I have enough of:

• a body sufficiently fit to fight the toxins
• a garden and nearby farm stands with fresh vegetables
• a loving family
• an extended circle of faithful and caring friends
• a beautiful and safe home
• a place to be cool in the middle of a heat wave 
• and so much more.

I have enough.

If one didn’t know about system dynamics or complexity, this is a good time to explain what these words mean. We are always in flux, and all part of countless dynamic nested systems – nothing stable even though they may have looked that way. Hopefully everyone now does see how everything, and everyone is connected to everything and everyone, except maybe for the people who ‘don’t believe in masks.’  I watched a lovely video (the Egg) that culminates in the realization that we are all part of each other, all the good parts and all the bad parts.

The pandemic system dynamics play out in hugely complex ways from the macro to the micro.  Because of my travel I have always known that if some policy gets enacted in one part of the globe, people we cannot see or hear and are continents away, are impacted. Unless the media put a spotlight on one of those occurrences, we could be blissfully ignorant. No more.

We had hoped to celebrate our granddaughter’s 5^th birthday tomorrow here at Lobster Cove. All the presents are ready, wrapped and all and the decorations impatiently waiting in a drawer.

Since we are all in overlapping pods, we have to make rules about what we can and cannot do and what our various pods are OK and not OK with – there is accountability on all sides. We are learning to redefine risk. In the pandemic the threshold for unacceptable risks is very low for some and high for others. Negotiating these different thresholds is extremely challenging. When there are infractions, there are consequences. This Boston Globe article shows that many of us are struggling with this reality.

As a result of a few ‘above-the-threshold’ encounters in the last few days, Saffi’s party has been canceled. We are both sad and disappointed. At the same time, we are also relieved as it would have been the largest gathering of people (outside, but nevertheless) since the pandemic started.  We were never totally on board with the size of the gathering, but family dynamics about inclusion and exclusion came into play and we left the decision making to Saffi’s parents. For us it was one of those ‘above-the-threshold’ affairs. Now we don’t have to deal with 5 grandparents, 8 aunts and uncles and 6 kids under the age of 8.  We are going to have a quiet weekend and sing happy birthday over Zoom. It won’t be the first time we miss being physically present during a grandchild’s birthday party. 

The disappointment is placed in the basket with the others (our wedding anniversary in Holland, my planned travel, a wedding in Colorado, our annual Easter party, the Memorial Day celebrations and visits to the ancestor graves, etc.). 

The ants continue to show up in my life. If they are messengers, something I like to believe, then I have to work on my patience. This morning I nearly ate one. It had joined my thyroid pill in the tiny Chinese cup that sits on my bedstand. I take the pill before I have my glasses on. That’s how it landed in my mouth. I spit it out and it scrambled – we had the exact same intent. I squished it and I won. Life is a power struggle.

David Attenborough’s must-see documentary (available on YouTube and Netflix) has a scene in it from a floor of tropical forest that shows how the larger ecosystem keeps populations that get too dominant in check. The scenes are rather gruesome and hard to describe dispassionately (but Attenborough does). Two remarkable quotes, spoken in his soft soothing voice: “The more numerous a species is, the more likely it is to fall victim to the killer fungus.” And: “Checks and balances like these mean no one species can dominate.” Replace fungus with virus, and there we are.

There are also checks and balances in my own head: the daily news headlines and our president’s desperate attempts to dominate the narrative of life amidst Covid-19 drag me down. I feel it in my insides, a knot in my stomach. My body’s telling me something is not going well. But then I am lifted up by the new connections I am making with people from all over the world who I meet in various conferences I have been and still am participating in: The Gaia journey that culminated in the 2 day Global Forum of the Presencing Institute, The Wise Democracy group that my daughter Sita introduced me to, and the UpCreate! Journey that has just started me on 7 months gathering that will take place every month on the day of the new moon. Three overlapping cohorts (Europe, Americas and Far East) are playing on a virtual field (powered by Miro), thinking together, encouraging each other, learning how we can best take advantage and bend the course of history away from greed and selfishness towards caring, nurturing and creating environments in which all can thrive.

I am turning the short breakout conversations with interesting people into more lasting and deeper conversations. Yesterday Maty, from Senegal, and I spoke for an entire hour about our lives, our hopes, our tests and tribulations, and most of all our resolve to make something of this moment in time. We agreed to talk every first Tuesday of the month. On Friday I am meeting with Ying from China – we discovered we do similar work in a short breakout session during the Global Forum. I am so very excited about all of these encounters. Paradoxically, the familiar parental phrase (“go to your room!”) has liberated us and connected us in ways unimaginable even half a year ago. 

True, a stable internet connection and electricity are critical ingredients, and thus make us vulnerable to serious isolation if these ingredients disappear (or, as for some, were never there in the first place). But these are technology problems (complicated but not complex) and I suspect that somewhere, someplace, there are smart people trying to figure out new technology constellations that do not harm the earth and bring us together. On a human level (complex certainly), all these thousands and thousands of people who are connecting with each other, are weaving the great web of life. Those who dominated will be caught in the web or consumed by a fungus. If you don’t believe that, watch the Attenborough clip. 

Our grandson and two ants found their way into our sugar pot. We knew about ants liking sugar. And we are more than a bit amazed that these two enterprising ants were the first two to have found the pot since we moved in here 27 years ago.

That our grandson (8) found it is no surprise as it is a bit below eye level for him (and he has known about its existence for at least 4 years). Faro is attracted to sugar like an ant. His parents have put him on a low sugar diet (not because he needs to lose weight, he is thin as a reed, but because they are convinced he should not be eating much sugar). My parents did the same with me, but I managed to find sugar anywhere, knew exactly which of my friends had candy jars or mothers who were less strict about sugar. I ate more candy than anyone I knew and still have a sweet tooth. My 123&me genetic profile claims my haplotype prefers sweets. This is not a surprise.

We are taking the ants outside where, as our granddaughter remarked, the ant’s family resides and is waiting for the return of their curious son or daughter. I like the idea of a family reunification.

We are not killing the ants. For one, as someone told me, when you squeeze them to death, they leave a scent that bring out the burial brigade. I am not sure whether this is true or not, but I like to imagine the ants outside sniffing the air and knowing one of their own has died and needs to be taken care of.

There is another reason. Ever since I learned (from Jamie Sams’ Animal Medicine) that ants carry the message of patience, I stopped squishing them. I say a brief thank you and then take them outside, where they belong, so they can carry the patience message to others, since patience is a hugely important quality these days. 

Aside from the patience we need to have with things unfolding in the age of COVID-19 (can’t travel, can’t go to visit my relatives in Holland, can’t do this, do that, yet), we will also have to be patient with a major renovation that starts tomorrow with the demolition phase. We have decided to ‘age in place,’ and in order for this to work we are reconstructing a fully equipped bedroom downstairs – fully equipped meaning that I won’t need to get up and down stairs to go to bed, to brush my teeth, to do the laundry, etc.

The demolition crew arrives tomorrow. I am a bit anxious about it, but also very excited – we have been planning for this to start for over a year now.

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.

There are three mindsets that seem particularly important to cultivate these days: curiosity, imagination and doubt. 

I use this in my coaching and for myself. All three came into play as I was reading, or rather listening to, Lisa Feldman Barret’s book about how our emotions are constructed. I had to appeal to all three mindsets in order to finish the book, more than 11 hours of audio. Now I am going to read the book all over again. She has shaken many of my beliefs; doubting things I took for granted, curiously asking questions (what about this, and that?) and imagining what my new insights can make possible.

I have this fantasy of calling her up (she lives nearby) and proposing we meet over coffee, somewhere in Cambridge, so I can ask her all those questions that popped into my head while listening. 

And while I was still digesting that I prepared for my challenging assignment, my first ever Zoom workshop, across 7 time zones and in French. 

I explored platforms that could be integrated into my workshop to co-develop strategies and analyses. I tried Mural and Mirro but they were too complicated, at least for me, now. I’d have to feel more confident before I dare introducing them in workshops. Besides, there is a bandwidth issue. Google’s Jamboard was more promising, because of its simplicity but even that was finally discarded – too many moving pieces and too many possibilities for confusion. I have to remember that online workshops are still new to most people, and I was already introducing one platform (Zoom) and one working document (Google Presentations).

I was blessed with a very knowledgeable counterpart who basically ran the first day while I was holding the Chat space and admitting people who got kicked out of the meeting because of bandwidth. Not all were able to put their videos on, but what a difference that made. Apparently people aren’t used to show their faced on such video calls – but it turns out to be as much about bandwidth as it is about habit (and hesitance to give people a glimpse in their home life?).

Tomorrow we’ll do another three-day workshop, now with three times as many people. I imagine how that will go, am curious about what is and what is not possible, in French, across timezones, and with feeble internet connections for some. So it’s a new adventure, though not as anxiety-provoking as last week’s. Now it’s a fun adventure, with everyone, including myself, in deep learning mode (open mind, patience, humor) while accomplishing some important tasks, and continuing to cultivate our collective curiosity, imagination sprinkled with a small dose of doubt.

This morning I skipped our Zoom Quaker meeting. A New York Times piece explores whether it is possible to be worshipping and communing with God via your computer screen. No one in their right mind would have asked that question even a short 4 months ago.

Today I didn’t feel like communing with God over Zoom. I have work to do (countless Zoom hours ahead for the next few weeks). It is work that keeps my mind on edge: three consecutive virtual workshops, in French, across 7 time-zones, with a repeat every week for 3 weeks, starting tomorrow. I have worked hard to contain my anxiety. What helped a great deal is that I am paired up with a very knowledgeable facilitator in Madagascar. Our preparations together are reducing both our anxieties. I am actually starting to look forward to our first event tomorrow, rather than dreading it.

Taking a break from the work, and sitting in front of my computer, Axel and I sat in the warm sun, drinking coffee, watching the newly planted Cranberry beans pulling their tiny little heads out of the small peat containers, and practicing our guitar and ukulele chords so we can improvise together. New life, warmth, beauty, harmony are here with us, if you have the ability notice.

At the same time, we cannot forget the global pickle we are in. The front page of the New York Times reminds us of the 100,000 deaths so far in the US by printing names, ages and one liners about the person behind the small entry in this register of deaths: a small sample, one tenth of one percent of all those whose lives were cut short. 

I learned that we cannot hold two thoughts in our mind at the same time (think milliseconds) – but in a slightly longer time span (seconds, minutes, hours, days), may be we can make sure that we don’t forget to notice what’s good, what’s beuatiful and what’s right, and let these inform our actions, for ourselves, our families and our world.

I have a new stretch assignment that requires me to work remotely with a team in a country 7 time zones ahead of me and in French, with very little time to prepare. I have worked in this country before and with some of the people involved. I compare my current experience with that of some years ago. Then I did not need a contract, since I was employed and these were my colleagues. I would read up in the week leading up to the assignment, get my ticket, get on a plane, travel through the 7 time zones, land, get to my hotel and have a few days to connect with old and new colleagues, get the lay of the land, prepare the workshop and off we go. The project would have been billed for at least 14 days of my time, plus overhead; an expensive but common proposition. That’s why I have over 2 million miles on Delta.

Now all this has to be done by Google Meet or Zoom, Google docs and comments, a series of iterations and then trust that we can pull it off next week, it being a series of three mini workshops conducted using Zoom and Google’s Jamboard.

It’s all very new and somewhat nerve racking. I am in full experimentation mode, as many of us are now in this new world of virtual everythings.

I gave myself a crash course in Mural, Miro and Jamboards and landed on Google’s Jamboards. Not the most sophisticated but the simplest of them all requiring the least amount of band width. Band with is an issue, especially when we start to descent from the central (capital) level to the periphery (regions, districts). It is clear that the work will have to be done by the local team. For one, they are in the same time zone, and also because they know the context so much better than I do.

This is also happening in other far away countries I work in, where I am asked to connect locals to locals, local resources that can do the work I do in ways that are better and cheaper. I think the current crisis is teaching everyone that there are alternatives to the classic model of experts in the US or Europe, flying in, being put up in a hotel, workshops in hotels. The alternatives are cheaper, more cost effective and probably just as good, with a light touch from the experts far away, if at all.  This is how it should be, should have been for a long time. But there are interests at stake, the (expensive) experts who need to be paid, the organization replenishing its overhead kitty by sending these experts out. The US taxpayers footing the bill. The new order is an awakening: we can do more for less.

If we pull off next weeks’ assignments, producing intended outcomes, this will prove that I have worked myself out of a job. I am glad I am at the end, and not the beginning, of my international public health career. I see less and less use of people like me, and more value being given to local experts. 

But for now, I am a little nervous and asking myself, can I pull this off? Can I handle Zoom and Jamboards and glitches and time zones and Zoom fatigue all at the same time, and all that in French?