Four Directions to Surviving Quarantine

 Answer to prompt The Power of Four

By Helen Sadler

Four Directions to Surviving Quarantine

When I wrote this prompt, I was looking forward to getting hella creative with it. I had all kinds of fancy plans, although nothing was really sticking. I was certain I didn’t want to write about the past two months. At. All.

But then, the Trail Brazens started posting. And I read Laurie’s promises, Annmarie’s power statements and guiding poems, and Natalie’s reclamation. Then I knew I could not avoid it. I knew I needed to lend my voice here as well, as we continue to document our journey together on this blog.

I’ve tapped into the four things that helped stabilize and regulate me during this time. For a while emotions were running so high and low, I sometimes didn’t feel like I knew myself at all. I am happy now to document the things that I have found most helpful, although there are certainly others. I’m keying in on the top four, but I could also add exercise, fresh food, and solid sleep.

I am including an added dimension: the meaning of the four directions in Native American culture as a connector.

EAST: asking for wisdom and understanding, seeing things as they really are.

Ye Tang Che

I’m aware I already wrote a blog post about this, but I have to state it again: in times of my greatest despair, this is repeatedly the thought or philosophy that helps me through the most. I am still grateful for the day the Pema Chodron’s book When Things Fall Apart dropped into my lap. I cannot get enough of Chapter 7, where Ye Tang Che is explained in all its balanced wisdom and frank talk. It helped me just let things be what they are. Once I grabbed onto that once again, I found everything stabilizing for me, and I haven’t shed many tears since then – except for the day I went to my classroom.  But that was a blog post, too!

SOUTH: warmth, growth, the sun’s rays

Music in different forms

Anyone who knows me knows music is a huge and significant to me.  Early on in this quarantine, I purchased a vinyl record player. Its presence in my life has added a dimension I didn’t even know I was missing.

Slowly, and deliberately, I have listened to many of my old vinyls. I even bought a few new ones. The best way for me to deeply listen is to lie on the floor with the speakers on either side of my ear, just like I did as a young person. Revisiting the album covers and inserts proved a delightful treat as I rediscovered things I forgot were even there – such as James Taylor’s handwritten words to all the songs on Sweet Baby James.

But even more than that, it is what I am finding in the grooves that uplifted me. I found the roots of everything I love about music. I heard artists, such as Phoebe Snow, from an entirely new perspective and appreciation. Albums I thought would sound dated or weird have surprisingly held up. They are all intricately connected to a time in my life when I was forming myself, so to hear these songs now is truly finding pieces of myself that went missing in the name of electronics.

But that isn’t the only music. The other delight in my life is the Saturday night live stream broadcast of The Grand Ole Opry, albeit an empty auditorium, but artists who are pouring their heart and soul into keeping the circle unbroken. Vince Gill, Marty Stuart, Keith Urban, Terri Clark, Amy Grant, Kelsea Ballerini, Garth and Trisha, among others. I fell in love with Ashley McBryde. I gained appreciation for Lauren Alaina, Trace Adkins, and Luke Combs. There have been many fine moments in this show, but my ultimate favorite was during the final moments of the Garth and Trisha edition, when Trisha launched into an acapella version of Patsy Cline’s “Sweet Dreams,” her voice echoing through the Opry hall, moving me to tears. That was a music moment to remember from this unsettling time.

WEST: introspection and insight, source of the water of life

A Lamp in the Darkness by Jack Kornfield

Every morning I wake and read something inspirational. About four weeks into the quarantine, I became disillusioned with the text I had been reading. It was striking me as shallow, and not helping me at all.  I tried a couple of other books I had here, but nothing was doing what I needed it to do.

Then something came up in Facebook memories: a book I studied in 2012, and used to create inspirational messages for my seniors that year. The full title of the book  is  A Lamp in the Darkness: Illuminating the Path Through Difficult Times. At the end of the school year in 2012, I wrote various quotes from the book on index cards, then had the seniors choose one randomly. We then sat in a circle and they talked about why they felt that message was for them.

I obviously passed one of these messages on to my coworker Natalie, because that same day she sent me the text of the message I had given her eight years ago. It meant something to her that day, and then I knew that I had to pull Jack’s book back off the shelf.

Good move!

This wise and wonderful book provides gentle instructions and enlightening stories for getting through difficult times. After nearly every chapter there is a meditation (a CD is also included for verbal guidance), and even though I have yet to actually do any of the meditations, just the illuminating text has helped me find something solid inside myself that I deeply needed during this ordeal. Or, should I say, helped me light my own lamp. It, along with Ye Tang Che, is bringing me back to a level of equanimity and peace that had been eluding me. It also helped me form a vow, at Jack’s suggestion:

I vow in the midst of difficulties to listen deeply and love.

As Laurie and Annmarie stated on this blog before me, I am willing to keep a promise to myself, beyond the chaos, and see what is helpful and real. This is the ultimate liberation.

North: cleansing, endurance, patience, receiving energy

Write Around the Corner

When my friend Laurie mentioned starting an online writing group, I had every reason to say yes. I love writing and I love talking about writing (duh!).  She opened it up to invite others, and I invited quite a few people, three who have accepted and stuck around. Two are people I knew in high school who still live in Ohio– one whom I had just seen in February and she asked me about what kind of online writing group she could join. (Synchronicity!)  I also invited a rather new friend from work, and it has deepened our relationship being in this incredibly safe writing space.

[Disclaimer: this absolutely does NOT replace the awesome TB group – EVER!]

Laurie has done an inspiring job facilitating our 90-minute Zoom meetings. Please know, I can barely tolerate Zoom in many cases. But in this context, it works just great. There are people from all over participating, and there is no way we could all get together. So this is perfect.

The group has its own FB page, Padlet, and some other fun outer activities.  Each week I find my love and gratitude for this group growing. Last weekend is a case in point. I came away from the meeting totally rejuvenated, and by the next day I had developed an idea for a writing project I am super excited about!  Considering I haven’t had much of an interest in pursuing a project in over two years, this was something.

There are three more things I want to add in this regard.

Write Around the Corner is a perfect title for this group, because when we started we had no idea what was around the corner. As we proceed, we still don’t know. But we are navigating together.

This group has become a North Star for me – leading me to my best multi-dimensional self. What more can I ask?

And finally, the interactions in this group have helped me dream again. And that, my dear friends, is the ultimate healing power of writing.


These video seems to sum up quite a bit here. This is Trisha singing "Sweet Dreams" in 1999 when she was inducted into the Grand Ole Opry. She begins acapella. Try to imagine no audience noise, no other instrumentation. The power of music. The power of dreams coming true.

Peace

Response to Prompt 6

Peace
By Laurie J. Kemp

I don't remember when, but several years back my sister gave me a necklace. She often gives me unique things for my birthday or Chanukah, or even a trivial holiday such as Valentine's day. Whether it's a handmade soap from the farmer's market, or a piece of jewelry she bought from an eclectic Etsy site, she is exceptionally thoughtful about the gifts she picks out for others.

This gift was no exception. It's an unassuming, thin black twine with a terra-cotta clay disk about the size of a half dollar dangling from it. There are no connectors or clasps, nothing silvery or gold. Just a hole punched into the clay, and the twine looped through the hole so the clay hangs as a necklace. Very plain, sort of natural and earthy. But the disk, now that's what makes this necklace special. On one side, textured into the clay is a series of dots in lines reaching from the center out towards the circumference, resembling a sand dollar. The other side, a single word: שׁלוֹם.

***

For this writing exercise, we were asked to write about an object that feels dangerous or is emotionally charged. It came at a time when I was already contemplating the role this necklace had come to play in my life. I have had it for years, and I don't think I have ever worn it. It has been tied around the neck of a lamp I have on the night table at the side of my bed. When I roll over in the morning, I see it. When I turn the light out at night, I see it. שׁלוֹם.

I realize many won't recognize these letters, after all they are clearly not English. They are in fact Hebrew, and they spell out the Hebrew word Shalom. Almost any Jewish person raised with connection to a synagogue and Jewish study would recognize this word, even if they are not literate in Hebrew. שׁלוֹם looks strange amidst a paragraph of words in English because Hebrew is read from right to left. The ש which is the letter "shin" in Hebrew is actually the first letter of the word. Though probably spoken in most any encounter between speakers of Hebrew, the word itself is unique. It has three meanings. שׁלוֹם means hello, goodbye, and peace. It is also used in Hebrew phrases, like  שׁבּת שׁלוֹם or Shabat Shalom, meaning Good Sabbath.

***

About two weeks ago, I was getting ready for work in the morning, and I stopped at my night table to put on a ring I had taken off and left there the night before. I looked at the necklace wrapped around my lamp and wondered why I never wear it. I tried it on though I knew it didn't really coordinate well with my outfit. I decided I didn't like how it hung on my chest with what I was wearing, so I took it off. Just holding it gave me a subtle feeling of peace, like running my fingers over the word שׁלוֹם and thinking about my sister gave me strength and calm. I wanted to wear it, but I put it in my pocket and decided to carry it around with me as a physical cuing object throughout my day. If I felt stressed, upset, or angry, I'd put my hand in my pocket and rub my finger over it. שׁלוֹם. Peace.

As I walked around throughout the day with the black twine hanging from my pocket, I also couldn't help but think of tzitzit, another Hebrew word for the fringes that hang from the traditional Jewish prayer shawl. I felt what I can describe only as a sense of comfort. Every time I touched my necklace throughout the day, the necklace that was hiding in my pocket, I started to think more and more about my life as a Jewish person. And this, is why my שׁלוֹם necklace is a dangerous object- an emotionally charged object. I realized in my contemplation, maybe not wearing it had less to do with how it looked on my neck, and more to do with my fear of being outwardly Jewish in public. There I said it. I'm relieved, yet ashamed it's out there.

As a young child I never experienced such feelings, not because of youthful naïveté but because in New York, Jewish people are everywhere- especially Long Island, where I grew up. I was surrounded by many Jewish people, and most of my friends and our family friends were Jewish. There were multiple synagogues around the area, and schools were even closed for the major Jewish holidays! Later, when my parents split, we moved to Southeast Florida- Ft. Lauderdale area. In Hollywood, there were plenty of Jewish people. I had friends who were and plenty of friends who weren't (my boyfriend among them) but I never encountered anyone who didn't know what Jewish meant, and I didn't have any friends who questioned my faith or my family's culture. Broward County schools didn't close on all the Jewish holidays, but we always had off on the high holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. I went to college in Miami and things were similar there. Friends who were, friends who weren't. Professors who were, professors who weren't. I never really gave it much thought.

Then one day, soon after graduation from the U, when my boyfriend-turned- husband and I were living in Orlando, I encountered my first in-person Jew joke. I was waiting tables at a seafood restaurant, getting ready to start graduate school. A redneck waiter came running back to the kitchen complaining about his table of guests who didn't order any alcoholic beverages. All they wanted was a round of "Jewish cocktails," he said. By this he meant water with lemon, which bothered him because they wouldn't be running a bar tab which theoretically would make his tip bigger. I had no idea what he meant until I asked another waiter who laughed while explaining it to me. I was shocked, no horrified. And while I wanted to tell him off and explain how insulting he was, I didn't. I cringed inside and turned away, afraid if he knew I was Jewish, if any of them did, they wouldn't like me anymore. That's right. A confident, more educated than any of them adult, I was embarrassed. Hard to believe I was the one embarrassed in this scenario.

Fast forward almost 20 years later. After moving to Palm Beach County, then back to Broward again, we landed here in Southwest Florida. A little less metropolitan, a little more country, and a lot less Jewish. I wouldn't have noticed really. It wasn't even that important to me. My husband isn't Jewish, and as long as there was a synagogue close by where my son could go to religious school and have a bar-mitzvah, the rest didn't matter so much. At least that's what I thought. That's what I thought until I started encountering more and more people who asked me (and my son) things like, What is Jewish? To which I thought, really? Why didn't you tell me you were Jewish? or If you're Jewish, does that mean you don't believe in G-d? And of course, So you're Kosher? What exactly is Kosher?

The list of questions goes on. But I think what's been most upsetting is I have encountered people who treat me like I haven't yet found G-d, just because I don't accept their version of what G-d is. They placate me, nod at me, claim to understand and even say they'll pray for me, all because they think I'm a child who just doesn't get it yet. I can't explain how insulting and infuriating it is. It's as though I haven't arrived yet. Poor me, I haven't been saved yet.

And this closed mindedness, this need to believe all people have to believe the same things, is what has me living quietly. I won't go so far as to call it hiding, as people who I know well, my friends and even my co-workers know my faith. And please, don't you dare mistake my hidden שׁלוֹם for shame. I am not ashamed of my beliefs, of my family's rich history and Jewish roots. It's self preservation. If I tell my students I don't celebrate Christmas, they want to know why. If I have to explain why, I have to explain my faith. If I have to explain my faith, I must immediately be on guard. For simply mentioning my faith, I may be accused of denouncing their beliefs. It's as though as soon as someone knows you are Jewish, everything you do or don't do, is because you're Jewish.

Try going to a birthday party with your 3rd grade son whose friends know you're Jewish, because you taught your kid to be proud of who he is and thankfully he is, and have another child ask you if it's true that Jewish people are the chosen people. How's that for a loaded question for a token Jew at a kid's birthday party? Yup, that happened. I was dumfounded. I didn't know what to say. Heck I didn't even know what I believed was the right answer. All I could think to say is people believe different things. It all depends on what you and your family believe. Crisis averted. Can we go home now? Now my son is 17 and I'm glad I don't have to explain anything for him. He handles it on his own.

My שׁלוֹם necklace is a dangerous object because it challenges me to face my fears, to be proud of who I am, and to find a way to navigate my faith in the world I inhabit. It represents peace, literally. It's up to me to find peace with who I am and what I believe.