There was once a time when I did not live without the specter of illness around every corner? I lived a life that wasn’t conditional on the spread of a virus? I spent almost five decades making plans that weren’t likely to be cancelled anywhere, any time, with little notice, because of a nasal-swabbed test result? Could it be true?
Anxiety . . . is an illness of “what-ifs.” The mind takes the most minuscule threat and blows it up to–not even huge proportions, just unrealistically large ones.
After ten years of working in higher education, I decided to switch careers and get a job in industry. Here’s what I learned in the process.
We were in and out in under 45 minutes. My best friend and I, visiting the new FEMA site set up for mass vaccinations. Here’s what we learned.
I should schedule days where I am a little girl and days of adulting.
If I’m not serving, who am I? If I’m not helping others, why am I here?
It was the night before Xmas, and somewhere around here
I sat alone with a drink, you know, holiday cheer.
Here’s the thing, Mom. You’ve been living on catastrophe island. But it’s uninhabitable. It’s not conducive to life. It’s time for you to get off the island.
We will not go back to normal. Normal never was. Our pre-corona existence was not normal other than we normalized greed, inequity, exhaustion, depletion, extraction, disconnection, confusion, rage, hoarding, hate and lack. We should not long to return, my friends. We are being given the opportunity to stitch a new garment. One that fits all of humanity and nature. -Sonya Renee Taylor
Perhaps, like me, you’ve procrastinated your plans to emigrate to a healthy democracy. Or maybe, like most of us, you’re just queasy after years being force-fed for-profit, click-bait media that lionizes blowhards, puts scare quotes around “facts,” and sows doubt in our elections. Sometimes it seems as if the only good news is you can tune out by binge-watching Schitt’s Creek.