Traveling in the Dark

"The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind." – William Blake

Maybe I should burn some more sage.

On the morning of January 1, I burned sage to purify my home and drive away negative energy in a healing practice known as smudging.

I thought it was a good way to start a new year. I wanted to clear out the old, stale forces in my life, and let the sun shine in.

“I’ve got a long list of things that I want to do this year and I believe I started my journey off on the right foot,” I wrote that day. “And now the work begins…”

The year is now half-over and we are in the midst of the worst pandemic in 100 years.

Stores are closed, millions of people are out of work, racial strife is sweeping across the country and the lunatic in the White House wants to treat the U.S. military like his own personal security force.

I’m worried about my job—while thanking God I still have one—and, on top of everything else, my vacuum cleaner is busted, which sucks but not in the right way.

Can I get my money back on the sage?

This must be the most ironically numbered year in history, given that those 2020 normally stands for perfect vision, while in reality, we’re traveling down Highway Covid-19 absolutely blind.

I went shopping on Friday and on the way to the store, I passed two corona casualties on the same block: a Thai restaurant I’ve eaten at several times and small gift shop a few doors down, both shuttered, both displaying “For Rent” signs.

It hurt so much to look at these darkened storefronts. The statistics are scary enough, but the pain gets cranked up one hundredfold when it’s someone you know.

My sister tells me that both of these places were struggling prior to the outbreak, but the pandemic most likely provided the coup de grace. How many more signs like these will go up around the neighborhood and across the country?

Can't See a Thing

'We're not leading this tiger," one medical expert said on TV last week. "We're riding it."

At least pre-pandemic, each day brought the promise of change, that even if you did nothing different from the day before, there was the potential—or the fantasy--that something fabulous could happen and turn your whole life around.

Now it’s one day after another of masks, hand-washing, and isolation. I tell people at work—via Slack—to have a nice weekend, but how exactly do you do that, when restaurants, theaters, bars, and just about every other location where humans meet are all off limits?

I feel lonely, lost, and marooned. I want to be more positive, but it’s hard to put on a happy face when have you to cover it with a mask.

My emotional struggles have intensified, as well, and I’m reliving all my past mistakes, poor decisions, and disastrous relationships.

Fear of change runs through nearly all my most painful experiences, as I chose to stick with something awful rather than risk moving on to something new.

If I learn nothing else in this twisted 2020, it’s that routine is no guarantee for joy and the familiar is probably draining the life out of you.

This morning I sat down to watch Joel Osteen's weekly message.

The show was a rerun, made back when people could meet in large crowds and not worry about deadly diseases.

But I'm glad I saw it because he spoke about breaking the chains emotional chains that bind us, such as depression, anger, and regret.

I recalled that I had once printed out some pictures of Harry Houdini and posted them on my refrigerator and near my computer, to remind me of the man who could break free of all chains--as opposed to someone like Jacob Marley from A Christmas Carol, who was condemned to wear chains for all eternity.

The photos are still there. I just have to get reacquainted with them, and remind myself that regret does nothing to change the past and only destroys the time you have left.

Sounds like some pretty sage advice.