“Thank goodness I don’t have to “social distance” from my rake or my apple trees or plywood stacked behind the barn. I have never felt closer to inanimate objects. I fixed my pruners with a repair kit, adding lost gears & screws, then replaced a destroyed plastic handle cover. This, while listening to videos about sacred geometry, dark agendas, the month ahead for “Gemini Rising”, what the military is training for (think: underground bases), and a happy overview of Trump’s supposed 5D chess game. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, a new yogurt has debuted from Norwich Farm Creamery, since that was all they had in the store. Fantastic what we have to eat, here in Vermont. I hope it lasts. I sort of can’t shake the dream I had decades ago about Bernie and I handing out bread to starving people in Burlington. Go figure. The apocalypse doesn’t scare me as long as I can see clearly what needs to be done. So many are feeling warm and fuzzy about face masks. I’m not, I’m afraid. Health is way more complicated than you not breathing on me. But I am with humanity, all the way. We are going to figure this thing out. The crows speak distinctively in the early morning, making a ruckus, sort of a reality check. My cats are all over me at night, one on this side of me, one on that, while I have nightmares about disembodied entities. Wake up screaming and they are still purring. Again, go figure. This gives me great hope. While people die, in real situations, loved ones caught up short in an all out struggle to survive, I breathe with the strength of my being, with what I have left. I limp up and down the stairs, hampered by a knee injury, while reaching for my mineral supplements, Himalayan salt and fresh mountain water. We have so much amazing manna here, just an arm’s length away. Good god, who could not see the health brimming from Vermont and not want to stomp it out, from envy. I urge you to take stock of our treasures, pull your eye off the T.V., believe increasingly in all our advantages. It is understandable to be scared, to be frightened, and retract from others. But our collective vitality is a phenomenon to be reckoned with. Out of a place of abject isolation, today, I recorded stories for my Italian grandchildren: Wake Up Farm, and The Runaway Bunny, from my own copy of a very old book. I dragged dried grass and rose cuttings on a tarp across the lawn, shaped a couple shrubs and moved bricks and rocks to fill a hole. All this kind of work is what we humans are so incredibly good at. Sincere and friendly, self effacing and hard working, our state could be a kingdom of peace and resistance, if only we could read the writing on the wall.”
