Tuesday, May 12, 2020

Living So Slowly


Nine of the twenty-three chickens currently residing in our yard in Lloyd. None of them were eaten by a raccoon last night nor was a raccoon killed.
He may have been scared though.

I feel so useless. I wonder if I'm depressed. Not the black dog depression but just the garden-variety-having-a-hard-time-getting-out-of-bed kind. I get up. I tend my birds. I do a little laundry. I eat some breakfast. I read shit online. I take a walk. I come home, I finish up with laundry, I eat lunch, and then I do not much of anything for the rest of the day until it's time to make supper. Everything I think of to do makes me just cringe. It's like I'm waiting for something to happen and I can't be bothered to start anything when at any moment...
What?
The sky will fall, I suppose.

At least I'm taking my walks. This morning I met another neighbor on the sidewalk.
"Do you walk everyday?" he asked me.
"Uh, just about four days a week."
"How far do you go?"
"Oh, I try to go between four and five miles a day."
"Huh. Well, I'm just walking to the post office."
"It's good for us," I said.
"It is," he nodded in agreement. We made our good-byes with the now-requisite, "Stay safe!"

I stopped and watched a little snake swim across the still tannic water of a small holding pond. He got to the edge and just rested on the border between land and water, curled so that if I had not seen him swim there, I never would have noticed him. It appeared to me that he was merely amusing himself but what do I know about snakes? Perhaps he, too, was getting in his daily exercise.
I walked back down Heartside Run. I made it to the interstate.


There was a house down a driveway just a few hundred yards away. I think a lot about how people travel the interstates so often bordered with woods and fields, not even realizing how many people live right past that tree line, over the hill where those cows are grazing or where watermelons are growing. Not beginning to imagine that an old woman/girl is watching them from the woods as they pass on their ways east and west. 

On my way home I saw three women sitting and chatting. One was Emma, the wife of Jacob. They live across the road from the ranch that I pass where the cows and horses and at least one sheep live. There used to be nothing but an abandoned, ugly house there and woods. Scrub pine and palmettos, briar vines and blackberry bushes that I have picked in before. Since the new owners bought the property and fenced it, clearing the way for their animals and tearing down the old house and building their huge pole barn and the outbuildings and moved in RV's which I suppose they stay in while they work, I would imagine that Emma and Jacob have a lot more to watch as they sit in their front yard in plastic chairs- the kind that used to be in bowling alleys. They are so kind to me, Emma and Jacob, always waving and greeting and asking how I am. 
Sometimes the tenderness of of people that I don't know but who are kind to me nonetheless makes me cry. 

Later on in the day I bagged up trash and drove it down to the dump depot. The man who works there sometimes, the sweet one who always helps called out to me, "You look like a beautiful rose!"
I had to have him repeat it because I could not believe he was saying that to me in my stupid old denim short-alls that show my age-spotted legs, and my ancient Gap tank top that shows my spotted, wrinkling arms. 
But he did. He was. 
Because he is so kind. He said it in that way that you cannot take in any way except as a pure thing. His smile is as real and as open and as sweet as the magnolia blossom in my kitchen. 

I need to start supper. I've picked greens and squash and onions. My husband has just pulled up after working another long day. The chickens are finishing up their stations of the cross for the day. I love the way they have a routine, a map for scratching, a timetable for eating, drinking, and sun and dirt-bathing as they loll and nap like movie stars by the pool. 

Maybe I'm not depressed. Maybe I am just feeling too much without much to distract me from feeling. 
I don't know. 

It's okay. There's a lot to feel. 

Love...Ms. Moon


39 comments:

  1. "It's like I'm waiting for something to happen"... The lockdown does indeed often seem like the suspension of life - as if we are simply waiting for real life to be resumed. I like your reflections on the passing traffic on the interstate. It's like an invitation for a poem...people flashing by while ordinary lives unfold in the margins of that main road.

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    1. Yes. Suspension of life. Or at least normal activities. That's how it feels, doesn't it?

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  2. Mary I’m going through the same kind of unrecognizable depression. No black dog or thick head but just this constant... companion mentally like my brain is being rented out . Something new.

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    1. Something new for me, too. And my brain being rented out is what it feels like to me. Just...not quite here. I've been left enough to do the basics with but anything much beyond that is simply impossible.

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  3. you said what I have not been able to put into words. Feeling too much without much to keep me from feeling. Amen. Most people are feeling this exact thing, I believe. Glad raccoon has not come around again...... and glad Jessie's test was negative. Much to be thankful for
    Hugs to you both
    Susan M

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    1. Yes. Much to be thankful for. And much to be feeling.

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  4. I think a lot of people are feeling they're in limbo, neither one thing nor the other. Destabilized. I'm glad you're walking. It's always been a good thing for my spirits, too.

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    1. Maybe that's why it seems so odd to think of women having babies right now- that's just too normal. Or at least it seems odd to me. As if ALL of the regular things have been suspended for a time.

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  5. I know that feeling too Mary. It’s not depression really, but a sense that ground we stand on isn’t quite sure. Or something. I love you.

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    1. And you know, the shaky ground thing has felt that way since DT got elected and now with the pandemic- that has only intensified. And part of the shakiness is having him as a president DURING the pandemic.
      Or something. Yes.
      I love you too.

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  6. I have felt a lot of that depression the past few weeks. I find it hard to do much more than the bare necessities. You are absolutely right about feeling like you are waiting for something to happen. I think a lot of us feel that way. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

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    1. Absolutely- waiting for the other shoe to drop. If life can be so interrupted by such and unexpected (to most of us) thing- WHAT ELSE CAN HAPPEN?

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  7. Where do we go from here? But we don't know. That's what's dealing the blues now.

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    1. Exactly, Joanne. Where in hell are we going to go from here?

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  8. I understand what you mean. I feel "stuck" in time. I do have things I could be doing, but I can't bring myself to do them. I feel like I am in a limbo of waiting. Permission? Are we waiting for permission? Take care and enjoy your chickens. -Jenn

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    1. Perhaps permission. Do we need that to become unstuck? Hell, my state has given permission for me to go out to eat and do lots of things but that hasn't unstuck me.
      I don't know, Jenn. I do not know.

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  9. Some days I am so relieved to do nothing but walk and putter about the mundane tasks around the house (really, the first time I've ever had the time and opportunity to do this since I stopped teaching and having summers off); then of course comes mania and then days like yesterday and today when every damn thing makes me weep and weep. Glad the chickens didn't get raccooned. Ours finally stopped having a dance party on our roof when I shot them with the garden hose on full blast. I'd tried banging pots and pans together but that just pissed them off more.

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    1. Raccoons are feisty-ass critters, aren't they? And they can be fierce too.
      Like mama's. Feisty-assed and fierce. Sometimes we use that to weep and sometimes we use it to tear down fences under impossible circumstances. Love you, woman.

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  10. nothing to say, just know that I am present and paying attention to you, sending the good vibes/hopes/love, keep walking beautiful Rose

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    1. Thank you, Linda Sue. Same from me to you.

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  11. Mary, you are lovely. He's right.

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  12. It sounds like you've actually had some very pleasant encounters with the world lately. There IS a lot to feel, that's for sure.

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  13. I feel like I'm stuck in limbo too. My life hasn't really changed much but it still feels like limbo, everyone waiting for the virus to hit them or someone they love. I wonder if all those people protesting don't have the skills to cope with waiting, to cope with the unknown. Who knows? Certainly not me.

    I'm hanging on by my fingernails. The yard helps now. I was convinced I had a sore throat last night, of course I didn't and woke up this morning feeling fine. It's tiring, this constant surveillance for symptoms.

    The little guy spent the night with us again last night. Not sure if his mama is hallucinating again or if what she tells us is true. Regardless the little guy was worn out and clung to us when we stopped by after work. He was wet, dirty, hungry, grumpy and tired. All of his needs were met and he wet to bed without a fuss at 7:30pm. We're in limbo with him too.

    And you're right, there is a lot to feel right now.

    Sending hugs and love.

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    1. You have SO much on your plate right now. I can't imagine having even one part of it and yet, here you are. You humble me. I think of you and that gives me strength.
      Please stay well. Please.

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  14. yes, limbo. my days are much the same...drag myself out of bed, drink my glass of water while I check email, do my yoga, have my coffee while I read blogs or write a blog post, fix breakfast and by the time I finish eating it's almost 11 AM. then maybe I'll work out in the yard for a couple of hours but soon it will be too hot for that. so in some ways my days have not changed at all but in others they have, like everything I used to do away from the house. and I too spend a lot of time not feeling like doing anything.

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    1. Me too, Ellen- a lot of time not feeling like doing anything. You'd think I'd be getting better at doing crosswords by now but not so much. Even my bread-baking skills appear to be deteriorating.

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  15. It's reassuring to me that others aren't getting much done. I find it pretty confusing because I was always full speed ahead and while I mostly get stuff done, there are days when I just give myself permission to do bugger all - and reading all the comments here I guess that's ok.

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    1. It IS, okay, woman! At some point your days will be filled with activity again. Perhaps this is a good rest for you. A time to realize that constant motion is not required at all times.

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  16. I feel exactly the same - sort of drifting through the days, taking care of the necessities but without ambition to seize this enforced downtime to tackle things I’ve put off or try something new. I just read a lot of shit too, but also some engrossing novels. What’s for dinner? Beats me. I’ll think of that later. Too much nothing to do right now for very little enjoyment.

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    1. I do like your last sentence, there is too much Nothing to do right now for very little enjoyment and it's making me restless sometimes. It's good to know others are feeling unsettled during Lock Down and that perhaps it's even common to feel this way?

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    2. I think so, Bohemian. And Joy, I suppose we need to just realize that we're doing what we can. And you know what? I think we should try to get as much enjoyment out of everything that we can.

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  17. I think you hit that nail right on the head with what you said about not being distracted from feeling...that seems to be happening for me as well. Those people who remember to be kind are wonderful. There are fewer of them than there could be...

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    1. Well, I am surrounded by kind people. It is a blessing.

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  18. "Maybe I am just feeling too much without much to distract me from feeling." WOW, what an astute observation that sentence is... and I think you have identified what could be happening to so many of us! I know it hits the nail on the head for me anyway, so Thank You. I'm impressed you walk so far during your Walks... it's too Hot here and by the time it isn't too Hot it's too Dark, so the Imaginings I had for all that Walking Exercise we were going to do got laid to Rest early on at this New Property/Neighborhood... tho' it would be a lovely one for Walking, if we could.

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  19. It's about to get really hot here too and I truly need to start my walks earlier. In the space of an hour it can go from tolerable to intolerable. I am sure you know what I'm talking about.

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  20. Oh, I love that you're a rose in the midst of the dump - for the dump guy, if not for anyone else (though I know it's also for lots of other people too!).

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  21. I forgot to say Emma, wife of Jacob, sounds like a beautiful story. Yes, the kindness of people can make us weepy, when we are conscious enough to appreciate it, as you are. It is the gift of your sensitivity to the world around you. You feel the wrongs deeply, but you drink in the goodness, you are the goodness. And you are beautiful. Shortalls and all.

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.