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.