5 Weeks after Isolation
This corona virus period is an interesting one. I’ve been fascinated by the way we communicate with each other. Of course there’s a strong online and Whatsapp presence, people sending sillies, and funnies, that’s to be expected, I guess, because we’ve all learnt to communicate in small byte sized measurements and that’s supposed to suffice as ‘contact’, ‘communication’, ‘sharing’. If we’ve laughed at something then we must be like-minded spirits, right?
Then there are the seriaaaas moments over the various media channels Insta, FB et al gets challenging! We’ve heard the conspiracy theories, the ‘how-to’ theories, what the virus is, and isn’t theories, what to do if-you-get-it theories, and nobody really knows anything. What started it or how we get rid of it.
We’ve had the uplifting inspirations of wildlife reclaiming the planet, Yay! and teeters of the ozone layer beginning to close. YooHoo. The debates continue … on survival, finances and how we’re going to get by if … if … if …
And as we scrub the floors on hands and knees, do the washing ironing and cooking I have a renewed respect for the work the domestics do on a daily basis! While the awe-inspiring creative video’s of people displaying their crafts from isolation permeate our collective camraderie with their crafts of choice: music, ballet, yoga, opera, rap, poetry, art, the online Zoom sessions give vent to work meetings or yoga classes, business meetings or online dinner parties, the crazy Pres is suggesting everybody injects disinfectant! And here in SA – we are – I am – Ohh so proud of my Pres for stepping in so quickly!
The relentless online chatter continues unabated to a point of overload exhaustion: the quibs, giffs, memes, funnies, wildlife, theories, the street groups, the work groups, the group groups – the group-of-group group groups.
So now I don’t respond to any of it. Nothing. Nada. Not even a beautiful wildlife one.
The noise subsides into silence, the stillness, the beauty all around that is … life. True life. The plants, the trees, and self. Dare I look inward. And yes I do … and I like what I find, unearthed after years of neglect of the great unwashed.
And as I shake out my dreams, squeeze out my goals, and breathe fresh spirit into the emergent transformation of a transcended, evolved … me … I reflect on how many people I have actually physically spoken to in this time, not texted. Well, given the circumstances, on cellphone one-on-one, or Facetime. It is but a hand-full or slightly more with whom I have actually shared, communicated, had a decent, honest conversation. I bless them that they are actually willing to take the time to share – with me. Nurture. Care. Be still. Be real. Breathe.
Equally I honour them in reciprocation for their nurturing and love. There have been friends all over the world that I have thought about and wanted to communicate with to find out if they are okay, and safe. Some have responded, some have not. Old friendships come alive. There have been some interesting developments and some who have taken me by surprise. As in a war time one wonders – will I ever see so-and-so again. When we come out the other side … who will be left?
Gratefully I take heed of those in and around my life who wish to hold me in their friendship, cup me in their palms in this exchanged ritual of goodwill in this hour of need.
And when this period of time is over – and it will be over – sometime – we don’t know when but sometime – I will emerge knowing where my true north is, perhaps, but definitely who my friends are.
Namaste. 
