Notes from the Now 3/26/20 to 4/18/20 - Unknown Between the Poles

Given the surreal circumstances of life on planet earth right now I have decided to begin a dedicated practice of journaling my experience and thoughts here. I have Brian Eno in my head as I type these word while sitting at the kitchen table of Cloud Tree, the gem of an arts space I currently work from and truth be told spend most my nights at crashed in my office during this time of sheltering in place.  I own an old house close by I am slowly working on and will reside in some day fate willing. The truth is I’m quite comfortable in this old quonset hut with an amazing little creature by my side, Louie the 9 pound chihuahua dachshund. There seems to be no ceiling on my love for the little guy and he is well spring of gratitude and love for me.  If you live alone, during what some days feels like the end times, having a roommate with a fur covered face is something I highly recommend.  

The thing that keeps coming up for me that I don’t hear to many people talking about explicitly and what is probably causing the most pain on all levels is simply the unknown. I’ve heard it said many times recently that most people can handle bad news but what really drives deep anxiety is not knowing. From the clean butt hole scare of toilet paper hoarding to the stock market’s quakey sea legs to my own visions of dying alone in my office (j/k louie will be with me) as my lungs fill with bothersome fluid, all of the above has the same fuel driving the engine of fear and that is simply we have no clue what will transpire. Not today, not tomorrow  and certainly not deeper into the mists of the oncoming fog that is the future. Can we make educated guesses based on past experience and unfolding data? sure. Is a sense of some control moving forward important to the project? Absolutely.

I’ve heard different ideas and projections from people, some which have given me a sense of hope, if just for a day or two. But then when I reflect on the magnitude of the tech tonic shift we are experiencing, the scale of which no one alive now (or ever really) has any experience with, the calm assertions of well supported people ring (potentially?) false in the face of it all, as days pass and more is revealed.  Again, so much unknown and so much troubling doubt. 

I did work in a group therapy in the early aughts that was very empowering to me in that I picked up a lot of tools  that remain in my personal growth tool box to this very day. One concept that came out of that work was called working on the edge of the unknown. The group facilitator used to remind us that as we move forward through our lives, the leading edge of reality unfolding before us is the only true state of play. Despite our best efforts to predict the future, negatively or positively, all humans, all the time, are moving forward into new revelations second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day  until we hit the inevitability of death. The prediction, control and denial that ensues between the only two certainties of birth and death provide an amazing play that has had an incredible run at the theatre of sound and furry, with The Great Patron and an observant few enjoying the show.

She should have died hereafter;

There would have been a time for such a word. 

— To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury

Signifying nothing.

— Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-28)

from march

where did you go ?

into the depths of self

under your little surface

plumb the murkiness

below the frenzied white caps

hold your metal breathe

though you risk drowning

it is done and gravity pulls

your submission into the cold ocean

with a little grace and patient blue eyes

you’ll end up in the belly of a passing whale

where you will find some respite

and time to breathe

and write a book that has an answer.