COVID-19 Deaths Month 4: June

Most of my friends are working from home. All of my friends in the entertainment world are facing uncertain futures. There are still areas of the country that are not enacting safety protocols. There are still people who think the virus is a hoax. A lot of my friends are in the kind of jobs that require them to work and interact with the public. I worry for them. 

There is grief this month, in the events and gatherings that are being necessarily canceled. Virtual versions are happening and, while they are better than nothing, it is also highlighting for me how much physical recharging I receive from them. This year I must find another way.

We entered Phase Two reopening in New York but places like indoor restaurants and malls and movie theatres and gyms and amusement parks, etc are still closed to the public. I have seen parks registering more use and traffic than usual. (It’s worth noting that most public restrooms are closed.) A lot of businesses that can be open now have to scale back on their employees because of the small size of the business so there’s no one to do extra work of cleaning out the bathroom after someone uses it. Right?

Due to my extended isolated recovery I may have been better prepared for all of this seclusion. But it still affects me. It may just take a little longer. So many Americans are already over the isolating and some others have not even started it. I worry this country is too large to come together to care for each other and halt the spread. I worry that the summer months will bring carelessness with it.

The global numbers are disheartening. The speed of this virus is unsettling. And if this is going to be a long haul, we need to take care of ourselves.

 

We are learning more everyday. The science will change as we learn new things about this particular virus. It's important that we stay open to that. The basic news still applies. Wear a mask. Wash your hands. Six feet apart. Isolate.

I check the total dead each day. I have a list of numbers. Every night at midnight I light my ancestor altar. I call on those who weathered plagues and mysterious illnesses that swept through villages and cities. I call on my foremothers and fathers who lost loved ones, and those who lost their own lives in such times. I ask them to guide the dead. I ask them to watch over the living. I ask them to wrap the world in some measure of peace.

And then I chant the number of souls who died that day. I chant it seven times. I wish them ease. I wish them peace. I sometimes cry for their families, for the ones who died alone. Especially for the ones who died alone. Viruses don't care about human need. I try to remember that.

It's a simple ritual. It keeps me mindful of what is happening outside of my own isolation.

 

In June, we lost forty-seven thousand one-hundred and twenty-six Americans.

47,126

That's near the total population of the city of Binghamton, NY in 2010.

Since the rise of the pandemic 151,151 Americans have died of it.

 

 

Light a candle. Say a prayer. Wear a mask. Wash your hands. Stay six feet apart. If you think you are ill isolate yourself for 72 hours. If you think you have been exposed quarantine yourself for 14 days before exposing anyone else to you. Video chat with your loved ones. We can do this. May we all come out the other side.

 

 

[Statistics gathered from this W.H.O. website. They have changed as the numbers have come in, so there is some wiggle room around the exact number.]

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A Contemplative Poem for the Month

 

Mindful

 

Everyday

I see or hear

something

that more or less

kills me

with delight,

that leaves me

like a needle

in the haystack

of light.

It was what I was born for —

to look, to listen,

to lose myself

inside this soft world —

to instruct myself

over and over

in joy,

and acclamation.

Nor am I talking

about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,

the very extravagant —

but of the ordinary,

the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.

Oh, good scholar,

I say to myself,

how can you help

but grow wise

with such teachings

as these —

the untrimmable light

of the world,

the ocean’s shine,

the prayers that are made

out of grass?

~ Mary Oliver