Panic, chaos, viruses, crazy leaders, tornadoes, school closures, no hand sanitizer and no toilet paper...these are the topics of the emails and articles coming through from afar. I feel removed and separate and it reminds me of a dream I had where I saw what was going on, but was not part of it. More about that later.
Truthfully, it's weird to be out here in Sequim already quarantined in nature. I'm out here with the eagles, hawks, deer, seals, crabs, salmon, elk. In fact, sometimes they are the only beings I come into contact with on any given day.
I'm teaching an online class at the college, so actually, I don't need to meet students and risk getting exposed. The coronavirus has taken 11 lives in Washington State and 70 people have been infected and that number is expected to rise. Governor Inslee has called a state of emergency in Washington State. My colleagues at the college are scrambling to make arrangements with their students for the end of the quarter because they may not be able to finish the quarter with their students. We are waiting to see if our college closes.
But out here, things move slowly. Since I moved out here in December, this land has been calling me to stop and TUNE IN. Whenever I have big plans to get things done, the land calls me to put it all aside and get outside. It's not that I don't get things done, it's that my plans are often interrupted by nature's schedule. If I wake up and it's sunny, I put my shoes on and go. I want to be down on Dungeness Spit breathing in the salty air and hearing the waves roar. While I'm walking, I often close my eyes and drink it all in with my entire body. I breathe in the sun, sand, wind, salt, breeze, clouds, waves and bird calls. My body vibrates with all of it. I feel stripped down to the core essentials out here.
After hiking at the Spit today, I headed to my bank to cash a check and decided to stock up on some food. I hadn't been to the store in a few days and truthfully, I didn't really want to be amongst shoppers who all had the potential of being carriers of this disease. Every time I'd hear a cough, it would propel me to wander away from whatever aisle I was on to one that was empty or sparsely populated. I'm trying not to buy into the fear, but it's there. I'd like to believe it hasn't made its way to Sequim, but my answer was there in the hand sanitizer section where I stopped in front of a gaping hole of nothingness. Same with the toilet paper section. I'd have to let those go for now.
Back in my car, I took 5th Ave past Old Olympic Highway to Evans Road. I passed trumpeter swans breeding in a nearby field of a farm with a worn-out red barn. Not a single car passed me on those roads. I turned left on Dungeness-Sequim Highway and then a right on Woodcock Road making my way past Graysmarsh Farm, a huge estate that seems to go on forever and where you can pick blueberries and strawberries in the summer, but not much is happening there right now.
I often wonder what I'm doing out here. I'm 50 years old and I'm living at home. That's the stuff people talk over fences in hushed voices with their neighbors about and here I am doing it, without toilet paper even. What has the world come to? What have I come to?
On the outside, things may look dire. But on the inside I feel this unbelievable gratitude for my life and I feel the earth vibrate with an incredible goodness. I feel the wildlife on it calling everyone to stop and listen. I feel I am a witness to this language that has no words. I move with the wind. I feel the rhythm of the earth out here. I feel the native energy. Nearby my family's house is the grave of Native American Chief Lord James Balch. There's a huge eagle totem there to honor him. He was one of the first natives to pool money together with fellow tribesmen to purchase 210 acres that is known as Jamestown. It's not a reservation, it's owned by the natives. I walk past this great chief's grave to the beach frequently. The energy is so strong around there. And I have dreams of a world that is calling us back to our origin. It's calling us back to when we listened and knew. Yes, I'm remembering this language that has no words. It comes to me in dreams.
I am not going crazy, but the world might be. I'm stopping and I'm listening and I'm hearing.
In January, there was a snowstorm that hit The Peninsula quite hard. I was alone out in Sequim. The wind was howling through the trees and shaking the windows. Right before the power went out, I found a dream I wrote on paper about the end of the world. Minutes after I finished reading it, everything went dark. I felt along the wall to the living room where I knew I had candles and matches and I lit candles all around the room and lit the gas fireplace. I was warm inside, but I wanted to feel the swirl of nature outside, at least for a few minutes. I stepped out into the howling wind and felt cold snowflakes hit my face. I was barefoot on the deck. I could see the glowing red eyes of deer huddled under pine trees. They had been sleeping there in front of the house for a month unafraid. I felt their presence daily and knew they had messages for me. Back inside, I piled blankets on top of me and huddled in front of the gas fire place and read my dream again.
I have lost the piece of paper with the dream on it. I know it's somewhere. Anyway, here's the gist of it:
People were in a panic. There was some kind of tsunami happening and waves were crashing all around and buildings were falling down. People were running through the streets screaming and police cars were zooming around with their sirens blaring, but I was inside an old cave watching all of this from afar as if watching it on a movie screen. It was real and in front of me, but I was not part of the madness. An old man with a very long beard, I imagine Confucius to look like, was sitting cross-legged in the dirt also watching. Just then I grabbed a stick and began to draw a line in the dirt. I drew two inches forward and three inches backwards. My hand moved effortlessly and I don't recall I knew what I was doing with my logical mind or even if I was doing it. The old man bowed to me and told me it was about balancing the planet. I felt very calm and collected and sure that things would work out and rebalance. There was nothing to do, it was more about be-ing.
I don't believe it is about magic or miracles or anything out of the ordinary. I just believe it's about tuning in and listening. Most of our lives we move in the way our fellow humans move. If one person panics, we all begin to panic. What if we didn't panic and follow the crowd, but chose to really stop and listen deep within and move from there? What if we allowed our deep inner experiences to guide us on the outside rather than allowing the outside to dictate our inner state. I'm letting my inner compass guide me out here. I'm completely unafraid. I trust things will work out even if everything looks like it's falling apart and more importantly, even if there's no more toilet paper.
Nice!
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