Quarantine Bloglette: When Life Comes Knocking

In A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles, the Count recollects how many stories tell of death sneaking around and lying in wait for the unsuspecting. What we don't hear about as often, he says, is how life does the same thing.

Death and life take on many forms. There are people who, though they have a pulse, seem more dead than alive. And life, we know, exists well beyond a heartbeat.

It's spring. Life has been lying in wait all winter long. A friend of mine in Vladivostok, Lorissa, sent pictures of the first spring flowers. She also sent a picture of a man on a barren hillside planting some trees. How life-affirming planting is.

So I'm looking for signs of life in this pandemic.

Within a week of our arrival in Moscow, two separate people brought us food: a still-warm loaf of home-baked bread from one, and a complete Italian dinner from another. That's life-affirming.

The other day, I was practicing my recorder and figured out how to play a high B. That may not sound like much, but I've been skipping songs because I couldn't play high B. That's life opening up just a bit.

I have put together a small May basket for my friend Alice. I'm giddy in anticipation of dropping it outside her door anonymously. That's the two-way street of life delighting the giver as much as it does the recipient.

I like how Mr. Towles wrote about death and life sneaking up on us the way he did. Death, in the figurative sense, need not be as permanent as its literal sidekick. Life needs to be stoked. These days we are literally and figuratively making life and death decisions daily. I hope I always choose life, even if it's harder or less convenient. 

Here's a painting that has cheered me every time I've gone for a run. One of the residents on the compound painted it and put it in their back window for all to see. 

Quarantine Bloglette: Resignation versus Reconciliation

Midway through A Gentleman in Moscow (by Amor Towles), the Count talks about the difference between being resigned to one's situation (in his case, house arrest) and reconciled to it. If you plan on reading A Gentleman in Moscow, which I highly recommend, you might want to skip the next paragraph.

After not leaving the hotel for a few years and seeing the quality of service in the fine dining room drop considerably, the Count himself takes on the job of head waiter. He's unsatisfied and thinks that the restaurant is above the lower level of service that has started to be displayed, so he steps in to remedy the situation, rather than complain about it.

To resign ourselves to our situation is an important step, but it's only a step. We also need to figure out how to reconcile ourselves to the fact that it still may be weeks before we can move about freely again.

Resigning ourselves to isolation takes some faith in the medical community. It takes a spirit of cooperation over stubborn resistance. And it takes caring enough about ourselves and those around us to do our part.

Reconciling ourselves takes more creativity and effort. I've heard people talking about the Corona
15 - the amount of weight many of us risk gaining as we sit here with food readily at hand all day long. Corona, you may know, means crown. I'd like to hear about things more befitting the name corona. What can our crowning achievements be in our sequestration?

I'm so impressed with businesses that have figured out creative ways to not only stay in business and make money, but to keep their clientele happy. For example, the owner of an arcade that needed to shut its doors due to the pandemic decided to use his staff to clean up the games and rent them out to customers who now have them in their homes for entertainment during this quarantine. You just can't be mad when you're playing pinball. Okay, yes you can. Tilt!

There are many examples of businesses figuring out how to thrive rather than fold during this time. How can the individual thrive? Part of my reconciliation has been to share my efforts at writing. My neighbor is also working on a novel, so he and I get together now and then to talk about our challenges and successes. I've not been working on Russian like I'd hoped, however, I just signed up for Skype sessions with a teacher.  I try to change up what exercise I do, so it doesn't get too mundane. Yesterday I ran, this morning I did some yoga. I've mentioned playing the piano in the Embassy - I'm making good progress on memorizing Mendelssohn's Venetian Boat Song #2. I also have my soprano and alto recorders with me. The fingering is different - what is a G on the soprano recorder is a C on the alto, so that gives my brain a challenge. And every Wednesday, I Skype with a friend in Vladivostok and on  Fridays, I meet a friend for lunch at the Embassy diner. That gives me something to look forward to throughout the week.

With that, I'll ask once again: What can our crowning achievements be in our sequestration?

I think this painting is by Jean Joveneau, who painted in the early 1900's. (Thank you, Kalliope.) I saw it in a gallery in Vladivostok.

This is a picture that was shared by someone living on the compound.  Extraordinary. Since seeing an owl is generally believed to be a strong omen, I decided to read a bit about what it means to see an owl. Many believe they are portends of death. That, apparently is myth. (As is everything else regarding seeing owls. I know, I know . . .)

The first site I found had this bit of wisdom: Sometimes owls are bad omens, at which point you can anticipate negativity; sometimes they're good omens telling you to expect good. Well, duh. So I read a bit more and found much more interesting takes on owl sightings. Enjoy.

To see an owl in the daylight can mean the coming of an enlightening experience. The rarity of seeing an owl in the daytime (since they are nocturnal creatures) makes for depth in the sighting and the resulting impact of the sighting. They are seen as guardians and imparters of wisdom.

Owls sit quietly and observe. If you see one, you are being directed to do likewise. It enables the one who sees it to see what others miss. It directs some to listen to their inner voice as a guide to rid themselves of aspects of their life they no longer need.

As owls are associated with wisdom, it may be calling you to use yours or develop stronger knowledge.

One of the sites called to meditate upon the owl. I like that. That will be how I spend some of my quiet time today.

Quarantine Bloglette: A short, short story

There's a short story in the Grimm Brother's collection that goes something like this:

There once was a wee fox who found a wee box, and a wee hen who found a wee key. They took the wee key and opened the wee box. Inside the box was a wee tail. If that tail had been any longer, so would this one.

I've always loved that simple little story. Here's one I made up for our times:

The words “early parole” rang alternately in Eddie’s ears as the bells in Poe’s poem: merry, silver sledge bells and the moaning and groaning of iron bells. A fresh start, if not a clean slate, gave him hope in proving either rehabilitation or revenge.

First, to collect on an old debt, he broke into Frank’s car and took the Glock from under the front seat. The two bullets would have to do. He imagined the confrontation he’d have with old Al of Al’s Liquors when he surprised him. He’d ask Al if he missed the case of whiskey he’d stolen as much as he himself missed the last year of his life. Then he’d tell him that he figured, at this point, there was probably only a year left in the old man anyway, so they could call it even. Then he’d shoot old Al.

On they way to the liquor store, Eddie passed under an awning outside a church. Pretty women were giving away cookies and punch, so he stopped. Then he saw the signs, “Gun buy-back.” “No questions asked.” “Save a life; get $50.”

It seemed like a simple enough decision: walk on past the temptation, or turn and walk up the flower-lined brick path into a building he hadn’t been in since his youth. There were plenty of cookies and plenty of time, so Eddie didn’t rush off.

“It must be a tough decision.” An old woman, not one of the pretty ones, said to Eddie. She was like one of those, what do you call them? Wise women, crones. “Here,” she held out a plate with a large brownie on it. “Food for thought.” Then she tucked her chin down, like a younger woman. “I made it myself.” He nodded and took the brownie.

Early release, fresh baked brownie – life never tasted better.

He finished it and she quietly replaced it with another. He saw no other brownies, just cookies. It was as if she were trying to keep him there. He wanted to ask her if she had anything better to drink than Kool-Aid, Jim Beam, for example, but he didn’t.

If he stood there much longer, he’d have to talk to her. So he nodded thanks, made his final decision and took a step.

Here are two different moods of the same water from the Sea of Japan off opposite sides of a point on Russky Island.

Quarantine Bloglette: Hard Day

Today was tough.

Often when I'm having a hard time with this isolation, I take a walk or go for a run. Both make me feel better. Usually. Today I took two walks. The first with Douglas, the second alone. The second walk almost made the day worse, because I walked by a couple of men sitting on opposite sides of a fire pit talking. A minute later, I passed some friends (friendly acquaintances, really) sitting around a fire with a couple of men, also talking. I was so envious, it pained me. I wished so strongly that they'd invite me to join them.

This self-pity didn't last long. I knew they needed that time together as they were, with people they were closer to. We from Vladivostok are the outsiders here. I don't feel like we're treated as such. No. People have been very welcoming, but they have established friendships here. (The couple around the second fire pit were in Vladivostok before Moscow, that's how we know them; they've, rightly, moved on.) In Vlad, we have a fire pit that we sit around. That thought both soothed me (I was able to reflect on good memories and know that we'll do it again one day) and made it worse, in that it showed me exactly what I was missing and needed.

I came home and told Douglas that I was having a hard day, and he told me that he was too. He has three difficult, demanding writing projects hanging over his head he needs to complete. So we held each other, commiserated, then sat quietly reading and munching on apples and oranges.

It's days like this that I look forward to the sun setting, as it is now. I made it through another day without falling apart.

I chose this gloomy picture to accompany my mood. Sometimes gloom is beautiful.

Quarantine Bloglette: It's just . . .

I read a short story several months ago that had a strong impact on me. (I'm sorry that the book is back home in Vladivostok. When I get back, I'll try to remember to find the story and cite it in this post.) The story, as I now remember, was basically about a young man working his way through young adulthood with work and love. He was daunted by it all and would say to himself, It's 
just . . . whatever. "It's just saying hello to her." "It's just showing up on time and answering some questions." (For a job interview, e.g.)

Those words have helped me through some of the daunting travel I've done. It's just a taxi ride to the airport, just checking in, standing in line with everyone else . . . I think those words can be calming today in our long-term isolation. Please know that I don't mean to belittle anyone's anxieties or fed upness in this situation. My intention, rather than dismiss the hardships that come with isolation, is to direct all of us to mindfulness and reality.


It's just one day spent at home with _____ (or alone).

It's just wearing a mask for an hour.

It's just the computer not working again. It is not my fault; I cannot do what I cannot do.

It's just humanity being human; I'm doing the right thing by staying home and protecting myself.


Certainly it's harder to say this for graduations, weddings, long-awaited vacations, etc. Or is it? Can the quarantine wedding be the wedding tale one day? Beautiful ceremonies are ubiquitous. Give people a good, unique story and they'll remember it.

I admit that I might be wrong. To say it's just one day spent at home for the ninetieth day in a row might be impossible. I don't know. But, if I understand it correctly, that's the Buddhist approach. One moment lived at a time, because that's all we've got.

To put a comic spin on this, watch What About Bob? with Bill Murray and Richard Dreyfuss. It's
 just . . . is replaced with baby steps. While you're at it, watch Groundhog Day, also with Bill Murray. Laugh, or be inspired: your choice.

At the risk of being trite, I decided to post this picture of beauty emerging through man's sloppy work

These beauties grow wild on an unkempt corner by a house that is in disrepair. No matter what we do, or don't do, beauty simply will not be stopped. 

Quarantine Bloglette: Aaaah

I just got back from a nice, refreshing walk around the Embassy compound. The temperature was perfect. I didn't need a hat, but I wore one because it felt good. Light jacket, gloves. Cool, but not cold, barely a breeze. It's misting, but not raining, so it's moist, but not sloppy nor drenching. And it smells good. I only saw one other person, so I could talk to myself, sing, pick up a stick to carry and play with.

I was taking a walk because I needed to think before I worked any more on my novel. Within about ten minutes, I had the ideas I needed to move forward.

Having accomplished what I wanted with the walk early, my mind was free to sink into the walk itself. I could let my thoughts linger on what a good morning I'd had - including good progress on my novel and lunch with a friend, and what a nice afternoon and evening I was anticipating - including piano practice and making Italian for dinner while sipping red wine.

I realized as I walked, that the anxious, unsettled feelings I have are moments, while the nourishing, comforting times are minutes and days. Maybe yours are like that, maybe they're opposite. If they're opposite, I'm sorry. If they're opposite, I hope you can learn what you need to from them, so you can move through them and leave them behind. I hope that the momentary, deep pleasures that root themselves in you from time to time are stronger in their briefness than all the worries of the longer-lasting torments. Time after time storytellers and poets tell of all the good that comes from bad situations. But know this: rarely does anything bad come of the good.

This is supposed to be a video, but given my past success/failure rate with posting videos, it might just be a picture for you. This was the first time I'd ever seen the frozen ocean. Hearing the ice rub up against itself and groan and creak was eerie. I hope you can play it and hear it.

Quarantine Bloglette: Walls Opening Up

In A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles, the Count, in his confinement, is said to feel the ceiling drop, floors rise and walls move in upon him. He then makes the acquaintance of a young girl, who shows him some hidden-away parts of the hotel he's not seen. She is under the care of a disinterested governess and also limited to the confines of the hotel. But for her, as she has explored, the walls have opened up rather then closed in on her.

This has me wondering how I can figuratively explore and open the walls of my confinement during this pandemic.

I wrote about listening to lectures from the course Justice, by Harvard Political Philosophy Professor Michael Sandel. These lectures take my mind into the intricacies of ethics and morals in deciding what is just and unjust in society. I feel like I'm auditing the class. It challenges my beliefs and entices me to defend them. I never studied any philosophy, so this is good for my mind.

I don't have much of an exercise routine these days. I'm used to grabbing a book and getting on the bike in the basement of our townhouse in Vladivostok. It's been a bit too cold and windy to run here, though I have gotten out a few times. I've done a little yoga. I have a few hand and ankle weights, but for the most part, I've reverted back to old fashioned calisthenics. I march or run in place, lunge, kick, squat and work my abs while watching Jeopardy.

Posting these daily bloglettes is pushing myself. They're turning out to be much longer than I'd thought they'd be. I hope they're interesting to read.

So, I've written this to encourage you to explore your home, your mind, your body (yeah, I know how that sounds) and see what you can do. Please share some good experiences you have in the comments section.

This is Girl in Yellow Shawl (Peasant from Muron) by Ivan S. Kulikov, 1905. I almost added this to yesterday's post because this makes me think of the pretty girls the Count likes to see and listen to in the cafe he frequents, though those girls probably aren't peasants.

Quarantine Bloglette: Madness

I'm enjoying reading A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles. (For those who missed my earlier mention of this book, it is the story of Count Rostov who is under house arrest in Moscow in the 1920's.) The Count wakes up, his first morning in confinement, to thoughts of his daily routine. The flapping of a pigeon outside the one small window his new room has brings him back to reality. He cannot leave the hotel to buy the day's paper nor stop at the cafe for his favorite pastry and admire the young women gathered there talking. He ceases the thoughts, thinking that to entertain what might be if his situation were different would only serve to make him crazy. (I wish I could quote Mr. Towles, but I don't think it's legal, and I don't want to wind up in the pokey for admiring a writer so much that I just had to share a bit of his writing. My current confinement is quite enough.)

I'm all in favor of fantasy, if it doesn't detract from reality. I was married once before, and fantasized every day about a different life, different husband, living elsewhere because I was so unhappy. That was not good fantasy.

In my twenties, I fantasized about travelling the world as a professional singer. This (the singing) might be the only way I get to see the world. I told myself. That was good fantasy, because it got me to practice.

As a writer, I read most often about people who want to write, but don't have the time. I don't dare let myself sit here and imagine being back home in Vladivostok, lest I lose this perfect opportunity to make serious progress on my novel.

I want to be fully present here and now for Douglas as he works under difficult circumstances, so I won't allow myself pine over the fact that we cannot get out and explore Moscow. Instead, I'm trying to be creative with our pastimes and have a good balance of healthy meals and snacks and comfort food and treats.

In people's efforts to attempt to understand this pandemic, many have created this idea that the Chinese concocted this strain of coronavirus as a biological weapon in order to take over the world's finances. Hmm. Sounds like a good idea for a conspiracy theory movie, except that it doesn't make any sense to me. (Why attack your own people? How, exactly, could they take charge of the world's finances with a virus?) Others claim the virus actually started in the US. Just plain ridiculous, no evidence.

Okay, folks, can we all just settle down and look at the facts? The human race is being attacked by a virus. People in the countries not initially affected (like the United States) were warned and told what to do to prevent or slow its spread. The leaders in some countries (like New Zealand) took that advice.

I think that, just like it's difficult for some people to isolate themselves because they can't see the virus (the enemy), they can't resist blaming a group of people whom they can see. They are unable to insult, yell at or curse the virus itself, so they lash out at those who were first affected, the Chinese. Imagining our circumstances different from what they are might not make us crazy, but it could further alienate us from the rest of the world.

This is a popular indoor mall in Moscow, one the Count himself might have walked past or into. Earlier, it contained around 1,200 stores. It's called GUM (pronounced with a long U).

Quarantine Bloglette: Isolation or Insulation?

To describe what we're going through in this pandemic, I've heard the terms quarantine, self-isolation, lock-down and sequestration. I was praying the other day, or talking to myself - not really sure which - when the word insulation came out when I meant isolation. This is often how prayer works with me. Ideas slip into my mind. In isolating ourselves, we're being insulated from the coronavirus. Not only is this a positive outlook on our isolation, it's way beyond rose-colored glasses; it's true.

I spent some time with our Regional Psychiatrist when I first got to Moscow. I told her that I was experiencing some anxiety. She asked me to tell her what was making me feel anxious. And you know what? It was hard to answer her. That doesn't diminish my anxiety, it just means it's hard to verbalize. The only answer I could provide was anxiety about the unknown: How long this would go on? Would I or Douglas get sick? Would our parents get sick or worse while we're stuck here? Some of the same anxieties I think we all have.

These are the same things that, given enough attention, can always provoke anxieties in our lives.

I have spent too much time judging those who refuse to self-isolate. Right now,  I wish I could reassure them that the world isn't up to something sinister while they're at home. But I can't. Because the world is up to something sinister. Human beings are being attacked by a virus just as actively as humans were attacked in Independence Day and A Quiet Place. (If they were in those movies, they'd be shouting at the think in a Quiet Place, "You won't get me!" They'd be jumping around wiggling their fingers with their thumbs in their ears at the aliens in Independence Day. Oops, there I go judging again.)

I really wish I could comfort the contrarians, but they're rejecting the only comfort offered right now: stay home, stay clean and protected, stay safe. That's insulation.

An old commercial touting the safety of seat belts comes to mind. One woman gives her reasons for not wanting to wear one: it wrinkles her clothes. Cut to the same woman, paralyzed from a car accident, being fastened into her wheel chair. The caregiver says in a sing-songy voice, "Now I know this will wrinkle that pretty little dress of yours, but . . ." In another scene, a young man doesn't want to wear one because he feels too constricted. Cut to him in traction after a tragic accident.

Trust in God, trust in yourself and make sure there are enough life vests on the boat!

Insulation. Maybe some people think they are naturally insulated from this virus. I don't know. But I do know that I need to stop judging them. They need care and understanding. I don't know if any of us can give them understanding, but we can offer them care.

This is our shared backyard. Even in our isolation, we are blessed to have some space.

At the far end of our yard is this small grove of evergreens. This is just the kind of spot in which I'd have made a fort as a child. A nice, secluded spot to hide away.

Quarantine Bloglette: One Day at a Time. Baby

I believe living through this historical pandemic can make us individually stronger, depending on how we each decide to live it.

Strength can come from:

- realizing that for a single day I was productive. I kept myself occupied rather than settling on watching television or playing games.

- looking back on the day and knowing that I didn't spend time bemoaning my situation. I didn't whine or needlessly complain and bring anyone else down.

- grappling with the fact that today I melted down, whined, wasted time, ate poorly. I can handle this because I then determined to do better tomorrow.

- realizing that this is beyond me, I need help. To not ask for or accept help from others in times like this, is like not taking a pain reliever for a debilitating  headache. To accept help from others is to give them a chance to fulfill their needs, because there are many who need to assist. Collectively, we are stronger if we are strong as individuals.

- noticing that I helped someone today. Maybe it was easy; maybe I had to cast my own needs/desires aside for a short time, but I did it. It's also important to recognize that, by self-isolating and wearing a proper mask when we must go out, we are helping everyone.

Douglas finished reading A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles. He passed it to me, and today I read the first chapter. The main character, Count Rostov, is found guilty of being an aristocrat by the Bolshevik tribunal. The tribunal would have him shot, but senior party officials credit the count for his past contributions, so it is decided to put him under house arrest in the hotel where he's been living. He is escorted back to the hotel, removed from his suite and placed in a small, former servants quarters upstairs. He can take few of his possessions with him. He takes all his books. 

So, here sit Douglas and I, choosing self-isolation over potentially deadly coronavirus exposure. We have something in common with Count Rostov.

Count Rostov recalls a lesson he learned as a young man after his parents died. One must master one's own circumstances, lest they themselves are mastered by them.

This is one of the views from the Embassy compound. The open space is where people gather to play and barbecue. It's one of my favorite spots to run through. The building you can see is the Kudrinskaya Square Building. It is one of the Seven Sisters built in the Stalin years. Here's a link to see pictures of all these buildings: Seven Sisters

Quarantine Bloglette: Mindfulness

Part of a prayer I say (nearly) every day is for mindfulness. I pray that I don’t just flit through life unengaged, unaware. And I pray that I not live too much in the past nor too much in the future, that I focus on now, on the moment at hand. I need this now.

I find myself fantasizing about the farewell luncheon the Ambassador has told us he’ll hold for us at his residence. (Here's a link: The Ambassador's residence) I look forward to a welcome back party at the Consulate in Vladivostok.

When I let my thoughts drift to the future, I’m stealing from the present.

It reminds me of a dream I had years ago. I was home between piano lessons. In reality, I was lying in bed after lunch, reading and eating chocolates. I got sleepy, and drifted off to sleep. (I did this nearly every day.) Then I dreamed. I dreamed that I was home taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon, when I heard someone come into the house. It was one of those dreams in which I couldn’t move. I heard whoever it was coming up the stairs. I tried and tried to move, but couldn’t. I realized that it was Douglas. I didn’t want him catching me napping in the middle of the day when he worked so hard all day, but I was paralyzed. He came into the bedroom, crawled in bed with me and held me. He started talking in a soothing voice. “I know this is hard, but it’s for the best.” I realized that he had poisoned me and had come home to be with me when I died.

Then I woke up. It was a most unsettling dream. I rolled over and went back to sleep to forget about it, and dreamed it again!

Upon awakening the second time, I sat up. “Okay,” I said. “You’ve got my attention.” What was the dream telling me? Douglas would certain never hurt me, let alone poison me. My mind quickly went to the Jungian theory that every dream character is an aspect of ourselves. And I instantly knew what the dream was about. Every day that I came home between piano students and napped, I was wasting precious time in my life. I might as well die early.

My behavior changed dramatically after that. Instead of napping needlessly, I took walks, practiced, visited a friend, anything but waste my life.

When I sit here in Moscow and think about what might be, I lose the present in the same way as if I were sleeping through it.

I've heard others advise to think about what we can do, rather than on what we can't do. I don't think I offer any unique perspectives here, but sometimes hearing the same thing phrased differently or from someone from whom we aren't close to clarifies things. I hope these blogs help. 

Douglas and I are fortunate to live on the Embassy compound with space to walk around, unlike some who are more limited. This is one of the views we have. The church is the Orthodox Church of the Nine Kizikos Martyrs. Here's a link, so you can see some nice pictures of it: Church pictures

Quarantine Bloglette: If You've Got Your Health . . .

Every morning I wake up healthy, I realize I’ve succeeded so far. 

Some of those who are protesting the lock-down, will emerge from this unscathed physically and say, “See? Nothing happened. We told you we didn’t need to be in isolation.” But, that’s the point! 

I was sent a funny comic that read: First time in history we can save the human race by laying in front of the TV and doing nothing. Let's not screw this up.

Amen, brothers and sisters. 

Here's another of Alexander Filkine's photographs. (I sure wish museums would use non-reflective glass.)

Quarantine Bloglette: Whatever

Yesterday, Douglas looked at me and said, "Aren't you glad you're not one of those women who has to have her hair and nails done every week?" (Looking back on that comment, I'm unsure as to what, exactly, sparked it. Perhaps I need some mirror time.) I am glad I'm not one of those women. Donald Trump sounds like he wants businesses to open up again. It sounds like our president is more concerned with the economy than with people's health. Unfortunately, he's probably not the only one with misplaced priorities. (Easy for me to say, I admit. Douglas and I have no money concerns right now. I don't know how I would have handled this in my twenties.) A friend of mine posted that to open up businesses because the curve has started to flatten is like taking off the parachute because it has slowed our descent.

Part of the reason for the erroneous thinking of reopening businesses and scoffing social distancing is  that the danger is invisible. If there were soldiers with guns running around on the streets, you wouldn't have to tell many people to stay home where it's safe. If we had super-power glasses that enabled us to recognize the infected among us and the virus on surfaces, we could avoid it. But we don't, so we can't.

Douglas told me that when he goes into the Embassy to work, he behaves as though he knows he's infected, keeping his distance from others and keeping his hands clean. (This is just another example of how much better a person Douglas is than me. I go out assuming that everything I touch and every person I pass has the virus, and that's why I keep my distance and clean my hands and surfaces.) Many people people would consider that too pessimistic. They want to live life with a positive outlook,. But sometimes, that's exactly what will get you in trouble. And with a virus such as this, it, consequently, gets us all in trouble.

As I wrote yesterday, there is a time for everything. This is a time for some constructive pessimism. To play devil's advocate against myself, as I did in the first paragraph, I'll add this: Maybe this is the time to cast aside the health and lives of tens of thousands to ensure a strong economy. I hope not.

This is Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane, by Perov Vasily Grigorievich. I chose it in honor of this Orthodox Easter weekend. This painting is very moving for me because of the prostrate position of Jesus. I was singing in the choir at the Catholic church, and  got to see my first ordination. Part of the ritual is the brother (soon to be priest) prostrates himself before the altar while prayers are read. It goes on for a few minutes. I tried it at home, and it is a most uncomfortable position to hold.

Quarantine Bloglette: Empathy

This self-isolation gives us all a chance to understand how shut-ins feel every day of their lives.

Most of us have our health. How many people are home- or hospital-bound, bored, lonely and feel miserable? We all have a choice as to whether or not we venture out, but we are making the right choice to stay in to avoid catching or spreading the virus. Those who lack mobility have no choice; they must always depend on others to take them out.

Jokes abound about nursing home residents amusing themselves playing bingo, Uno and Skip Bo, but I've seen evidence of the younger home-bound among us amusing themselves and others with little more than rolls of toilet paper: making replicas of the Taj Mahal; using them as eyes to make the toilet into a squat , white other-worldly creature; hiding it away under the floorboards like a treasure for the next resident to unearth, 'writing' messages to passing motorists in the windows, "You honk; we drink!" and more.

Perhaps when the pandemic is over, we can all find it in ourselves to visit a care facility to read to or play a game with a resident. Maybe one of these days that kindness will be visited back onto us.

This eerily beautiful painting, by Maxim Vorobiev, is entitled Oak Fractured by Light. I, again, encourage you to look up a better image of it than my phone could provide.

Quarantine Bloglette: The Bet

While some people are watching The Contagion, which is tempting, but I've so far resisted, I'm trying to think of lesser-known stories I can read or watch that are befitting of this isolation.

Anton Chekhov wrote a short story called The Bet. It was in one of my earlier Russian textbooks, and I still periodically reread it. If you've never read it, I recommend you go on-line where you can fine both audio recordings (about 20 minutes) and text. I would love to have a discussion about this story. Please send me your thoughts and, with your permission, without using names, I'll write some of your comments and include some thoughts of my own in a future blog. (Please do this! I'm worried I'll run out of ideas as the weeks pass.)

I remember the first time I read the story The Last Leaf by O'Henry. True to his form (think the Gift of the Magi), Mr. O'Henry made me gasp at the end. It's a very popular story in the English language book club that Douglas and I run in Vladivostok. They love O'Henry (pronounced O'Genry by the Russian!) as well as Jack London.

Douglas is reading A Gentleman in Moscow which, in part, is about a man sentenced to house arrest in Moscow in 1922. Page after page, he finds something he has in common with this man. It's a timely book to read.

I leave you with a picture of Three Bears in a Pine Forest by Ivan Shishkin. It's a popular painting that was used on the wrapper of a chocolate bar. (Because bears love chocolate?)

Quarantine Bloglette: There is a Time for Everything

Consider for a minute this famous biblical passage:

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

I've been trying to think of a purpose for this virus. Every once in a while, I'm able to distance myself and look upon mankind as one of the many species of nature rather than some supreme being ruling the planet. This is one of those times. I'm sure I'm not the only nor first person to think this, but I'm wondering if nature is simply thinning the herd. Hearing all the reports of how clean the canals are in Venice, how clear the air is in India and how much lower the decibels are in cities such as Boston, I'm thinking nature might be fighting back against us, enabling the cormorants to once again fish in the waters of Venice, allowing people in India to see the Himalayas again and lessening competition for the birds to communicate. Just a thought, but I do think it's time we cooperate with nature on a much larger scale than just recycling and using sustainable energy.

This is the silhouette of the Mother of God Church, where I sing in Vladivostok. This is an example of the splendid sunsets Douglas and I get to view from our townhouse. We miss them these days.

Quarantine Bloglette: Cooperation

I forgot to post yesterday. It was Easter, I was distracted by all the candy Douglas hid for me in the apartment. I hope I'm excused.

I recently wrote a post abut cooperation versus competition. This pandemic is an extreme example of a time when we need to cooperate. We need to cooperate with those who know more than we do (the medical professionals and researchers who are dealing first hand with this coronavirus). We need to be isolating ourselves as directed, not attending church services, holding weddings and such.

Read about New Zealand and how they have been handling the pandemic. As of April 10, there had been only a single death in the country. The government enacted strict quarantines early and were enforcing them. Australia's numbers were also relatively low at the time. They were both following pandemic response plans. It's too late for the US government to do anything that fore thinking and proactive, so it's up to us as individuals.

But people don't want to be told what to do. I learned that as a lifeguard just trying to get people to take off their street shoes while on the pool deck. That's petty. Potentially spreading a deadly virus is not petty. How many of the people who are scoffing the calls to self-isolate will cry, "What am I supposed to do?"when they wind up with the virus and there's no more space, equipment or supplies available to treat them? I'd want to answer them: You tell me.

I think the best thing we can do, aside from following the advice of those who know more than we do, is to write letters to our congressmen and women and vote. Every time I see incumbents on the ballot, I hear Dr. Phil's words, "How's that working for you?" And I must answer, not very well. Before Douglas was hired by the State Department, he had to prove in a group interview that he could work with others. A group of five or so applicants were each given a project. There was a budget that would support three of these projects. Each applicant had to make the case for their project, but also recognize if another's project was more critical factoring in budget and timing. Our senators and representatives prove time and time again (every time a budget needs to be passed, for example) that they are incapable of doing this. It is my humble opinion that every time they miss a deadline (and the government shuts down, or they rely on a continuing resolution), they are all serving their last term.  We need them to work together as Americans, not against each other as political parties.

Here's another of Alexander Filkine's photographs. Again, I apologize for the poor quality of my picture of his picture. 

Quarantine Bloglette: Time

Time during this quarantine is almost non-existent.

Time in the sense of hour-to-hour, time in the sense of day-to-day almost doesn't matter.

Little nuisance things like sorting the recycling, putting everything away after I use it, self-care things like using the Neti pot regularly get done because there aren't a lot of demands on my time and attention.

I have no rehearsals, no church services to attend and no language classes, so it doesn't matter what time it is. I'll be holed up here for I don't know how many weeks or months, so it being Monday or Wednesday makes no difference. I spent the first month of the second semester of my junior year of college asleep in bed with mononucleosis. I lost a month. At least here in this time void, I can accomplish something.

Perhaps I'm experiencing life the way I was meant to. Time, after all, is a conceived notion. Some cultures are still grappling with the idea of what 2:00 means. I mentioned letting our circadian rhythm take over if there aren't precise demands on our time. I'm alternating between routine and letting my mood and body dictate what I do. It's working; If I'm in a mood (one of those moods) and can't make myself sit and write, I get my body going: I exercise or clean something. If I'm physically pfft, I put my mind to work studying or practicing piano. I'm using my time well, for the most part.

How often have we told ourselves or others that we don't have the time to do this or that? The truth is, we have all time. What we don't have - because we haven't given it to ourselves - is the freedom to decide how we use it.

This is a sundial on the embassy grounds. I've walked past it before, but I finally stopped to look at it more closely. I like what it says, I am silent without the sun. It is reflective of these dark days for us, while time doesn't hold the same importance it used to.

Quarantine Bloglette: In Our Greatest Limitations, We find Our Greatest Freedoms

Those of you who've read my blog recognize the title. I first heard that from Craig Bohmler (may he rest in peace), my piano/composition teacher. I was learning about 12-tone composition. There are rules in writing 12-tone, and I was distressed that they'd make it too difficult to compose. After he assured me with the above words, I set out and composed a piece so complicated, I couldn't even play it. I thought it was probably unplayable because it made no sense. But Craig could play it. And it was good.

There are a few teachers who've said things to me, sometimes as brief asides, that stick and help me throughout my life. I remember a biology teacher in high school. She gave us an exam on the first day of class - the first day of class! I scored around 13% - an epic failure. I wound up liking her anyway. The year went by, and, on one of the last days of class, she gave us the same exam again. This time I scored a rousing 28%. Epic failure. (Only the exam, not the class.) She saw my disappointment and said, "Laura, you increased your knowledge 100%!"

I could bring very little with me to Moscow and this isolation limits what I can do, so I have time to write. Writing these bloglettes, which may go unread by many, help me view my situation objectively and sort out and nurse my feelings. I've already made the kind of progress on my novel that gets me thinking about it throughout the day and excited about sitting down with it again, rather than being purely daunted by it. I brought very little piano music with me, so I have the time to focus on a few pieces, rather than beginning a new challenge that teases me away from a beloved piece I still can't quite get right. I brought a piece with me, Mendelssohn's The Venetian Boat Song #2, that I once had memorized. I'm hoping to play it by heart once again. (I love that phrase!) If you've never heard it, look it up and listen to it. It's a short piece, very beautiful.

I've heard the advice to look at what you can do, rather than what you can't do. I agree. What can you practice and get better at? What can you do so you'll not have to do it again for a year, if ever? What can you indulge in that you usually deny yourself because you're so busy? Whom have you not written to or talked to for too long? Are you able to let your circadian rhythm dictate your hours rather than a strict work schedule?

We Americans cherish our freedoms. Most often, the freedoms referred to are worship, gun possession and speaking our minds. What other simpler freedoms can we discover inside our own homes?

This painting, Beggar Spanish Girl by Evgraf Sorokin, was at a museum in Moscow when Douglas and I were here in December.

I love the body language in the little Spanish girl. She'll take the coin. She's grateful (arm over her heart), or she's protective, or trying to hold her shirt in place. Yet her face shows how it pains her. And I think her feet are tired judging by the full picture above.

Quarantine Bloglette: Compassion

I'm trying to pay attention during this time of quarantine. 

Life today is like being in a novel plot. One of my friends is reading a book set in the time of the Black Plague and how bodies were carted off and piled in the streets. Ding-ding, Bring out your dead! The updated version is the morgues are full. 

Every day, so many people in other countries deal with war and repressive or oppressive  governments, while we in America just sail along. Now we all have something in common, Covid 19. 

I’m trying to imagine what people’s lives are like in Afghanistan, Syria and Somalia every day of their lives, not just for a few weeks or months.. I'm learning that just because my/our problems are less doesn’t mean they aren’t problems, doesn’t mean they should be dismissed or sucked up, buttercup. But we do need to keep a perspective. 

Going through this pandemic together can make us more empathetic. The urge to wall off our borders to Central America because we have enough of our own to deal with, should be met by those who face being turned away from full hospitals or by those who lose loved ones who couldn't be treated due to lack of ventilators or depleted medical supplies. If the requests for aid presented to our country were dealt with by those who remember that feeling of rejection, who have compassion, perhaps they can then come up with more long-lasting, humanitarian, loving solutions.

At the same gallery where the last picture was taken, a photographer, Alexander Filkine, came in with dancers from the local ballet and took photographs.  I'll share more of these in the coming days.

Corona Bloglette: Delayed Gratification

I'm going to try writing a short blog every day during the quarantine. I want to be encouraging. I'm not going to be too Suzy-Sunshine since what we're going through is bad, it's bad. I want a place to crab, but I want to do it with humor to keep perspective. I've got it pretty good here on the Embassy compound, and I know it.

So, I'll give you today, a thought that came to me while I was running, the thought that spurred this idea. I've noticed that during this time, my ability to delay gratification is stronger. I have a finite amount of chocolate and Pepsi on hand and don't want it to disappear too soon, because I don't want to go to the store any more often than I must. So I've notice that I'm consuming less of them and (with a couple of exceptions) only once a day. (Don't judge me - that's progress.) I look forward to heading to the piano at the end of the day, after I've spent time working on my novel and exercising. It's not only rewarding, it's good for me cognitively.

Check back tomorrow. I may have a sentence for you, maybe a paragraph. We'll see what has my attention. Please comment any thoughts you have. There's a chance, depending on how long this lasts, that I'll run out of thoughts completely. My mind may become a void. (I just mis-typed "voice" for void - a Freudian slip of some sort, I wonder? I guess I have some time to ponder that one.) I may need to steal, er, borrow your ideas.

I've been asked to post more pictures, so I'll give you a picture from an art gallery in Vladivostok.

I actually took a picture of this painting at two different occasions. I continue to be drawn to it. I love the rich coloring. She's looks beautiful and strong, very Russian qualities.