Lessons from Covidland

Abbott In the Box

It's been a year since Covid-19 hit the world.

During this time, there's been ample opportunity to learn some life-lessons. Reluctantly, or otherwise. What follows are a few.

It's the little things that tend to upset us.

Things like: when Abbott (the cat who lives with me) pees on the carpet. 

In the vast scheme of things, this is definitely not a big deal. But on a bad day, it can seem to be.

Or forgetting how to correctly replace the ink cartridge in the printer. 

Or slipping on the ice on the driveway when trying to kick away a chunk of frozen sludge. 

It's also the little things that bring great joy.

Like watching Abbott peacefully sleep in a delivery box. Silent breathing causing his side to move soothingly up and down. (That's not his regular bed, but for some reason, he likes it).

Or Abbott expectantly trotting into the kitchen when I call him from the living room letting him know that his food is ready!

Or how a fresh, warm wind feels on your face, or a cool breeze.

Sometimes the big things aren't really that important.

Like, defending your choice of organized religion, if you have one.

I don't mean any disrespect. But do we really think that arguing intensely and incessantly about religious preference brings any sort of joy to the Supreme Being?

Plus, didn't Jesus say that, at the end of the day, it's what you do with your beliefs that count, more than what you actually believe? Ditto Mohammad, and Gandhi and a whole lot of other great human beings.

Nature is a great stress-reliever.

This past year, in particular, I'd have to say nature wins, hands down.

The most profound sense of stillness happens outdoors.

This past fall I found myself at Lake Michigan more times than ever before. (I live about 45 minutes away from the Lake, and it is a world-class calm-me-down). The wind, the shore, the massive amount of water, all combine to restore your soul.

And then there's the Bow in the Clouds Nature Preserve (thank you Sisters of St. Joseph for donating these incredible acres of wetlands for perpetual public use.) During one recent walk, I came across three Swan couples, which really helped put things in perspective.

Dave at Canaan/Photo by John Grap

Working with my brother Dave, at Canaan Orchard from mid-Spring through the harvest season in mid-October is also a great way to unwind, exercise and relax. Dave's a great person to hang out with, and being in the orchard, surrounded by a cornfield with him has been a life-saver.

I'm also, slowly, learning that worrying doesn't really help.

This is admitting that I can be a worry-wort. But it's also recognizing a way out of it. Being in control really isn't. Letting go of the need to control is a wonderful way to live.

I've known, for some time, that worrying doesn't change things. But since becoming a senior citizen, it's hard to deny the evidence any longer.

Friendship is important!

Should go without saying, but the past year of limited social contact has taught me not to take friends and family for granted. If you can't see them, Zoom into their lives. Sure, it isn't exactly the same as in-person, but it beats not seeing them at all!

Ever since retirement (pre-Covid), I've learned that energy spent on maintaining friendships is well worth the effort. The past year has only accentuated this lesson.

Meditation works.

I'm not trying to sell you on any particular brand of meditation. Only saying that it helps. Also, a plus, if it involves intentional, deep breathing. (Fans of yoga or tai chi will understand this).

Meditation is simple, easy, and doesn't cost anything but time. (Beware of any practitioner who tries to complicate it. What it boils down to is, sitting down, closing your eyes, focusing, and breathing intentionally.) Just google meditation, or contemplation and pick a style that fits.

Oh, the Benefits of a Sense of Humor!

This is enormous. 

The ability to laugh at life's ironies is an elixir that'll help keep a person sane.

I can't think of a single long-term friend who doesn't share the ability to laugh. 

Not to belabor the point, but who would you rather go on a road trip with - a Crabby Appleton or a person who knows how to laugh with you? 

As Madeline L'Engle said, "A good laugh heals a lot of hurts."