How to be happy isn’t really my field. How not to be anxious is my area of expertise.
Anxiety stings all of us in this time of the virus, but there are healing balms. For instance, it is National Poetry Month, and it is delightful to read a poem a day, even though it might not cure all our dark thoughts. My favorite American poet is Edna St. Vincent Millay, and in my hardcover copy of her Collected Poems, there is still a flower pressed on the page of my favorite poem, “Recuerdo..”
Here is the first of the three stanzas of “Recurerdo.”
I cannot tell you how remarkable and romantic I found this poem. Emotionally I knew just how she felt, though I had never had the opportunitiy to ride back and forth all night on a ferry. I concluded that I lived in the wrong part of the country for that romantic gesture, and would have to move to New York (which turned out to be very expensive, unless I wanted to live in a meatlocker). In the midwest I have happily ridden in a canoe, a rowboat (“Put your backs into it, lassses!”), and a paddleboat. None of these experiences belonged in poetry.
After a non-poetic mini- breakdown today, I went out to look at the gibbous moon. It must be the first time I’ve looked at the moon since last fall. There it was, glorious, pocked and shining. “If only we could go to the moon,” I said, but Mr. Nemo reminded me, “We already have.” “No, don’t mean that, I mean us. ” But he was right: this was our trip, gazing at a gibbous moon in a clear blue sky.
Actually, I feel claustrophobic just thinking about space travel, though Mr. Nemo assures me it would take only about four days. That doesn’t sound so bad, but wearing a space suit might be.
Earth has plenty of compensations, after all. “Who but God could make that rainbow?” a woman once dreamily asked while we sheltered inside HyVee waiting for the rain to stop. The rain drizzled to a stop, and an incredible rainbow suddenly arched above the hill. For a moment I understood what she meant about God.
That’s how I feel about the moon, actually. Who made that gorgeous thing? But I’m not sure which god, if it was a god. It was doubltless born out of chaos, like the Earth and the sky in Ovid’s creation myth , but I’d have to check to see where the moon comes in. Anyway, the goddess Artemis/Diana is associated with the moon. I’ll have to settle for her role, since I’m too tired to check my Metamorphoses.
I wonder, however, what god would bring a plague. Actually, gods do behave badly in myths, and quite often they are unreasonable and violent in the Bible.
Here’s what’s happening in the U.S. during our more-or-less month of lockdown. You do your daily routine, and then you panic. It’s as predictable as the rising and setting of the sun. The day turns sour when you listen to the governor’s daily Coronavirus update. You are horrified by the escalation of cases of infection and the death toll. We cry and feel angry and indignant.
But there is one endless source of joy. Exercise! It makes all the difference. Going outside, whether to pace or take a walk or run is therapeutic, because, believe me, being trapped indoors worsens the sense of helplessness. And if you prefer to stay home, do stretching exercises for at leas 10 minutes. It helps. My shoulders have been very sore: I wouldn’t miss my workout for anything. It gets all the kinks out of my tense muscles.
This is a challenging time, different from anything I’d anticipated. I thought people would face more virulent illnesses and violent storms by 2030, the arbitrary date for the end of possibility for climate change reversal. Surely these topics will be addressed on Earth Day, April 22, though obviously it will be idone ndoors. And let us hope we are much closer to finding a cure to Covid-19. then
Cheers! This will pass.