buoy.
In the last two weeks, I’ve started to write something probably six different times. I thought about ignoring the circumstances entirely and pulling out another Ireland story. I thought about addressing it head-on and sharing some of my journal entries outlining the anxiety rollercoaster I’ve been on. And today I thought maybe I’d take the educational route and write a little article on how each Enneagram number is dealing with things.
But everything just feels like noise.
There is so much extra content out there right now, and it makes me tired. I’m tired of hearing the same buzzwords over and over. I’m tired of people arguing over politics and etiquette and toilet paper. I’m tired of worrying. And I’m tired of hearing myself recite reasons not to worry. I’ll have a few good days and then a day like yesterday where my tiredness puts me flat on the floor, crying and exhausted and not totally understanding why.
So. What else is left? How does a girl find rest in all of this?
For me, an underlying amount of peace is always there because I believe that God loves us. I find that when I’m at my lowest points, it’s because I’ve let the noise drown out that simple personal truth. But even that can sometimes feel so distant, like words on a bumper sticker that carry no real meaning. Since all of this started, I’ve been grasping for something real and tangible, a buoy to tether to when the waves of anxiety threaten to wash me out into open water.
Now, whether or not you believe that the following comes from God is a personal choice, but the truth of it is universal.
The answers. The rest. The peace. It can all be found in nature.
All of you hippies just went “Yes, preach sister.” and everyone else just went “Ugh, she’s one of those.” It’s true that I have a little flower child inside of me, but I’d like to think that once all the taboo is stripped away, what’s left is something anyone can tap into.
I watch my dogs wake up every morning, excited for breakfast and wagging their tails at us like we just got home, even though they were asleep in the same room all night. Peach is thrilled about all the sun we’ve been having, wriggling around in the grass on her back with her tongue lolling out. Arrow is dutifully looking out over the property making sure no bad guys, deer or suspicious-looking trees get out of line. The only sign that they have any idea what’s going on is when they put their heads on our laps to comfort us as we fret and stress. All they know is that their people are here and all their basic needs are being met. Rolling in the grass is still glorious. Chasing bumblebees and birds is still super fun. Peach is still so proud when she finds a particularly big stick.
I watch my garden start to come to life. Little green bits are poking up where I planted garlic last November. My sugar snap peas are just starting to make some effort to pop up out of the dirt. The weeds are already feeling right at home, threatening to take over everything if we don’t step in soon. And the little sprouts in my office are reaching for the sun and doing their best to grow big and strong so they can live outside eventually. If all goes well, in a few months all of those little babies will grow up and we’ll have more fresh produce than we can eat. Seeds still require dirt, sun and water to grow. Weeds will still grow exponentially if you let them. And it’s still exciting when a sprout first pops it’s little green head out to greet the sun.
I watch the hills on the shadowy side of our valley start to replace snow with brown earth, and then brown earth with swashes of green. Buttercups are everywhere, snuggled in with the tiniest white and purple flowers you’ve ever seen and a variety of other things that make me sneeze. At night when we’re in the hot tub, we can hear frogs nearby croaking their little hearts out trying to find other frogs so they can make weird little black swimmy things together. Western and Mountain bluebirds fly by the front sliders all day long, twittering their little songs and gathering little bits of this and that to craft a cozy little home for their impossibly cute bebes. I mean, can you imagine how precious a tiny bluebird is? The seasons still change and the animals still adapt. Mother Nature’s greatest instinct is still to survive. To grow and flourish and multiply.
And then, there’s me. Either briefly resting in the tiny field of happiness and peace I sometimes manage to cultivate, or totally panicked and crying for no real reason. I’m disgusted at all the people calling each other stupid on social media. I’m frustrated with those who aren’t taking things seriously AND those who are taking it too seriously. I scour articles and news feeds for things that make me feel prepared, informed. I feel claustrophobic in wave after wave of oppressive news, content and thoughts.
And mostly, I worry and worry and worry.
But guess what? The spring sun still feels good on my face. Homemade chicken fettuccini and a glass of really yummy wine is still the bomb. My dogs still greet me every time I walk back into the house, even if all I did was take out the garbage. My husband still comforts me when I’m sad and laughs with me when I’m happy. Being required to stay at home doesn’t change the fact that I’m not great at cribbage but love it anyways. And even if things reach apocalyptic proportions, sushi is still going to bring me unquantifiable amounts of joy.
Even in the midst of global crisis, time marches on. Nature continues her steady rhythm of birth, growth and death. We still wake up and eat and breathe and feel. There is life after this, of that I’m sure. Someday things will return to normal.
But there is life in the midst of this, too.
And that is my buoy.
I hope you all are staying well and find your own buoy to tether to as we whether this storm together. Let me know the things that are still good in your life.
So Much Love,
Sarah