Plague Journal, Finding Solace
Life goes on, life is, must be lived, on the cusp of catastrophe, in the midst of chaos, and also, in the aftermath of the storm. There is always work to be done, and moments of joy to be savored.
I spent the better part of my day yesterday out of doors. A substantial yard demands attention, and there was plenty of winter debris, the seasonal die-off leaves, stems to be raked, piled and carted away in the wheel barrow. The basic labor, close to the soil, from which everything comes was satisfying.
Later in the day I took my bicycle out for a ride along side the river to downtown Batavia and back. A short ride on the paved path afforded me time to think, and there is plenty to see on the river banks.
Riding past the old Champion Windmill factory I reached the Donovan Bridge which spans the Fox River in downtown. I walked the bike over the bridge, pausing in order to observe the river, the mighty flow of high water against the concrete pylon. The relentless force of Nature’s insistence is impressive. I also noted how abysmally silent, empty, bereft of vehicles was the restaurant district, which on a normal Saturday would be bustling.
On my return journey using the pathway along the opposite bank I heard a ruckus across the river, coming from a marsh with tall grass and reeds. I stopped and by reflex reached for my camera. It seems that some gulls were having a dispute with a Canada goose over a prime nesting spot in the tall grass. Another real estate contention. We humans are not so unique after all.
I am reminded over and over that we are “of Nature,” that we all, come from the soil. We are connected by this common denominator. My inner voice tells me to slow down, to pay attention and that is what I see. That is what I hear in the cries of the bird voices across the river. We are all connected, and are of this earth.
This fact is symbolized by several images inside of our house. One is a magnificent photo by a good friend, and respected photographer. The exquisite detail of budding new life, a luminous dusky-green framed by large, grey-brown oak leaves in decay, symbolizes life/death in which we all play our part.
The bunny decorations displayed in celebration of Easter also prompted my admiration. Who can help but respond with delight at the sight of a wild rabbet? I glimpsed one crossing our backyard yesterday at sundown.
Impossible to forget, to fantasize away is the plague that knocks at our door. We will engage the covid-19 contagion, and this must be accepted. I offer for our mutual instruction, this interview with Dr. Larry Brilliant, a key figure in developing the small pox vaccine. This is worth your time to read.
Courage and be well.
THE SOIL..is the great
connector of lives, the source and
destination of all. It is the healer and
restorer and resurrector, by which
disease passes into health, age into
youth, death into life.
Without proper care for it we can have
no community, because without
proper care for it we can have no life.
— Wendell Berry
2 thoughts on “Plague Journal, Finding Solace”
Indeed, we are more confines by our minds than by our situation. You have found solace in the exploration of nature that abounds in every nook of our living space, be it a crowded city block lined with Ginkgo trees or a more rural setting that allows for bike rides near the babbling river. I think of Siddhartha sitting by the river, having an in-depth conversation with the ancient and ever-changing water as it flows from source to sea. He found his connection to nature through a journey that led him along a winding path and eventually to enlightenment. For those who are either avoiding our “plague” or for those who are ill and will hopefully recover, we have been given the gift of time to assess and find our own river.
Thank you for the reminder to read again Siddhartha. Nature opens up the mind to the matrix of connection that is there for us to recognize, that we have never been alone, and will not be — beyond our last day on this earth. All of us are borne along on the river which is time. Time to wake up.