Sometimes I just stand there. That’s all—and it’s enough. I might walk a ways, stop, and then look around. The sun warms my back, the chilly wind makes me shiver, and the scenery rewards my eyes. I simply stand there, gazing all around: the mountains, the brilliant green creek bed, lilacs in full bloom… The creek both rages and trickles while providing the perfect habitat for the frogs who serenade our nights; and the birds come to life this time of year.
This spring is different, and the reasons for my stopping more and just being are not the same at all. While I love staying here in the canyon, worry seeps into my bones like the cold. We’re always surrounded by the unknown, but not always conscious of its existence. But I sure am now—we all are!
It’s a good thing that so many are able to work from home, but not all are so fortunate. There must be a lot of concern for those whose livelihoods are considered essential, even if it does mean they get a paycheck. For others, like us, our outside work has completely screeched to a halt, with no earnings to replace it. But we’re fortunate. We can forage greens from the creek bed to stir fry or put in salads, and pick a few things from our modest garden.
Once a week we venture into town to the farm stands and health food store— all decked out in masks, gloves and goggles—to gather the freshest food we can possibly get. After all—food is medicine and it seems to me that it’s particularly important now to make the wisest choices as to what we put into our bodies. Boosting our immune systems and being as healthy as we possibly can, particularly now, feels extraordinarily important. Each day, I try to include exercise, meditation, healthy eating, absorbing natural vitamin D from the sun, working on manuscripts, house and yard work—the list continues. But on any given day, I can’t say that I’m one hundred percent successful.
One thing is certain though. I have to spend some portion of each day outside, surrounded in nature. She’s still there: blooming, flying, seeping, nest building, rippling and cawing. This is my sustenance and reminder that I’m still here—with the living. I miss our friends and family terribly. I truly wish the best for everyone.
My usual relentless inner drive has softened, with the shift our world is facing these days. I no longer adhere to my own self-imposed deadlines like I used to. It’s harder to stay focused and I’m easily side-tracked. Perhaps it’s why I wander a little—stop—stare. If anybody was watching, they might think that I’ve lost my faculties. And maybe I have, because I find myself doing this more often now.
How about you? Am I alone in this? What do you think about?
Chi Varnado’s latest novel, The Dance Centre Presents Giselle, the first book in her brand new MG/YA series, released in March 2020! Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are also available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com. You can follow us on www.Facebook.com/dancecentrepresents.