Yesterday was a very low-energy day. I spent most of the day inside my trailer. Glued to the air conditioning, I watched a movie I’d seen before, and did some quilting. On days when it feels like I control nothing, quilting makes me feel better. I can see progress. I am making something that will stand the test of time.
Time. There’s that word again. Sometimes I feel like it mocks me as I stay stationary, day after day, week after week.
Yesterday was a lot about me feeling frustrated. I want it to be time for me to go exploring again and it’s so not. I’ve been stopped since late February, which is actually only two months. Yesterday, though, it felt like forever. I know part of that feeling is the uncertainty of the situation: I don’t know when this lockdown will end, or when I will feel it is safe to travel again.
And then this Southern live oak tree reminded me that time is all relative.
A few months of shelter in place is less than one growth ring for tree. Two months isn’t even a blink of an eye in the lifetime of a redwood tree. I have lived 775 months, so honestly, what is two months to me? Or three? It’s less than 1% of my life (0.26% to be precise).
I am surrounded by beautiful old trees here. I see them every day, no matter what direction I walk. I’m going to start using them as reminders that this sheltering time is just a tiny chapter in the big picture of my life.
Time is relative; its only worth depends upon what we do as it is passing.
Albert Einstein
Dawn, it is good indeed to remind ourselves that the natural world is still out there and it will be when this is over and done. This year, the Southern spring was pretty much “here’s summer a few months early” with 90F temps in Florida in MARCH, for pete’s sake!
I totally get you, my dear, it’s the one thing in the vagabond life that I didn’t even THINK about happening. I wonder if it will come back this fall, if some states will be locked down and others not, and if camping close by is wise or foolish. I’m waiting till June but I did make some plans, at campgrounds where I know I can control my exposure (use my own bathroom, etc.) and I know the sites are spaced far apart. But when I start to think about fall and winter, I do kind of freak out. Same as you, I wonder if I should be looking for a place to rent or do what you did (airbnb for a few months) or come back here and live in my tiny trailer. I like my trailer, honestly, it’s just I like it better when we’re moving!
I started making a quilt just to give my mind something concrete to do, and stop me from surfing the web, listening to press conferences, and trying to make sense of the endless and somewhat contradictory news. Now, when I feel overwhelmed, I just plug into a classical playlist and quilt for a few hours. It’s about as zen as I can get in this time of coronavirus.
Speaking of trees (and other things as well), if you have not yet read it, then The Overstory by Richard Powers comes to mind.
Usually, I am pretty OK with all this and figure it’ll be over soon and we’ll move on. However, when they start talking about a year to 18 months, it’s unnerving. We have so little certainty in our lives to begin with, and now we’re thrown into this madness. If it’s going to last a year, do we stay on the road? Do we rent an apartment somewhere? Where? What will we do with our time then? If we get off the road, we might never get back on. Are we OK with that?
At this point, they’re unanswerable questions, but with all this time I have to worry about them, I can spend hours going in circles in my mind…
I was talking to my sister who lives in Columbus GA today. I had planned to be down there this spring and I miss it and the family there. It’s snowing here as I speak, it won’t stick, but it’s definitely snowing. I missed the Southern spring, the early flowers blooming, the bluebirds bobbing around the yard picking out their nest box. I missed the early morning kayaking and the mist on the water when it’s warmer than the air. But I, like you, have to remember it’s all still there and will be there when I get there and this is only a short bump in our plans and where we are is pretty too.