Pandemic Moraine

Shortly after my last blog post, the world changed: Infection. Isolation. Masks and disinfectant and small social pods. Stranger-danger on steroids.

Sixteen months later, although the virus isn’t gone, we’re told it’s ok to get back to normal.


I don’t know what normal looks like. I don’t know what normal is supposed to be. Over the past months, my business, my social life, and my soul have all been turned upside down. I don’t know what I think, what I believe, what I’m supposed to DO.

From my Buddhist readings, I know that the answer is always to be. See what is, and let life unfold.

The problem is, right now, everything is too sharp, too loud, too overwhelming. I can’t just be. Doing provides a layer of protection from the brightness of being.

Unfortunately, I don’t know what to do, either. I don’t have a clear path for either my vocation or my avocation. Everything is in pieces on the ground. What do I pick up? What do sweep away?

I’m tired, I’m oh-so tired.

This, too, will pass, I say, patting myself reassuringly on the shoulder. It’s a matter of just letting it flow.

Except, I’m not so sure that flow is the solution, because I’ve been letting it flow for sixteen months. My soul has been scoured by pandemic moraine, and I’m raw. I’m not sure how much more flow I can stand.

So. Here we are. On the other side. Or so they tell us. Time to sort through the rubble, to decide what we can salvage, what we should toss, and what to rebuild.

It won’t be a quick nor an easy process.

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