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| The moth was a messenger |
It dawned on me that I'm grieving. We all are. So I had to recognize that like any period of grieving it is a process and part of the process is recognizing one's sadness and depression.
Of course this grief is for so many things–the dying, the separated couples and families, and people are dying alone. But I like many of you am grieving for....normalcy, whatever that means in your life. Maybe it means going to your church, your school football games, or visiting friends and family. Maybe it means going to ride your horse at a stable that is closed due to the virus. Maybe it means you just want to walk around without fear, or get your regular brand of peanut butter.
Grief can hit you on the head, or it can creep up on you. I think it's the latter for many of us during this virus. And the constant news bites, dribbling in numbers that aren't just numbers-they represent real people that are dead leaving so many people double grieving.
So when I ackowledged this is grieving for me, I started thinking about the steps of grief, and how I've gone through that in the past. It is easy to get stuck in grief, get stunned into behaviors that might seem soothing but in the long run aren't healthy-like overeating, over drinking, listening to the news over and over-the latter just opens a wound.
I told myself that I am going to do two things every day that are for me....be it a walk to the cove, working with the horses, painting, a nap, baking, working in my garden or just sitting with the animals. I need to walk this out. I need to move my body and not just by lifting hay and shoveling manure. I need to feel joy in movement-like dancing. I need to dance. I will do that in the Llama Love Room where I have a radio.
I did this painting two days ago. I had a white moth land on my office studio wall, right in front of me. It was beautiful. And then hours later it disappeared. When i sat down to paint, I kept thinking of that white moth. I think it was a messenger. I think the white moth will be in more paintings if I open myself to her.
It's scary. I'm scared half the time. Why wouldn't I be? I am scared Martyn will get it. He has asthma. He had an episode today at work while working with cutting stones-the dust. He wasn't sure if it was the dust, and he had a good mask. He knows how to deal with his asthma, he is very good at understanding what he needs to do and when, but I don't want him to get it. I do all the groceries now, and feed store. I don't want him going in. He works outside so it is good he can work still, his crew is taking every precaution, but they are considered an essential business. Martyn needs to work, he loves his work and crew and boss, he needs it mentally as well as financially. But I worry more because of his asthma. Our county has had 7 deaths, I believe all were in health care center situations or elder homes.
Every normal routine is strange now, isn't it? I took Bear to the vet to get heart worm meds. He had to be weighed since his weight is changing as he grows. They come out and take the animal in, then bring him back out. I'm grateful they are choosing to stay open, they are a nice bunch. But it was strange to be handing off my puppy to them, wearing a mask. But we all still laugh and smile and people are caring for one another.
Working with my hands keep me grounded, so that is my goal. I am so lucky to have this particular life and setting-I can get outside and be free, and do what I love. But it is sort of like I'm doing it in a blur. When I feel that blur, I touch something, anything, to bring me back to the now.
If it helps, think about that. Touch something of earth, plant something, bake bread and feel the flour that came from earth. Earth is here, it sounds so simplistic, but turn to Nature for healing.
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| The white moth that came to me briefly |
