.SOMETIMES RAW.

What are you up to this weekend? We made pizza at home and took a stroll through the park. And, I left my phone at home.

Screen Time: Screen addiction is a very real thing in the Corona pandemic. Everybody is always available, which is good and bad. It is a nice feeling not to wake up with new notifications about the virus for once. Sometimes I enjoy the time-out from digital feeds that make me feel anxious and to stop cycling through my core set of applications i.e. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, email, WordPress. These days, breaking this routine felt strange to me. The urge to constantly know what is going on in people’s lives while focusing on my son’s and mine is a lot of work when nothing else is going on. Taking a break to check in on everybody at all times seems like the right thing to do.

On Reading: I am a big reader and found these days, printed books to be more vibrant than ever. I almost read myself through my mountain of “to-be-read-next-books” and will then order new ones online while supporting local, small bookstores in my neighborhood. My son loves to play by himself so I am able to spend a few hours, even during the day, reading while the world is still broken.

On People-Watching: When I sat in the park yesterday and my son chased his basketball, I watched people. And quickly found that looking worried them. Who is coughing? Is she sneezing? Is he too close to me? To her? To them? People are uncomfortable and scared. So, my son and I played social-distant-soccer and basketball away from everyone for almost one hour and had a great time. We have been watched but smiled at.

Walking Around: We have been for a short walk this morning. It was the first time we were outside in the early morning in days and ambling along the barren streets in Vienna was as surreal. Every corner and every street seems to be re-painted as an empty mirage depicting the erstwhile routine of my life before Corona. Vienna is nothing without its people and the formerly minute, now seeming extraordinary details of our habitual activities. I should have never taken them for granted. Actually, I think this is too harsh. Appreciating what you don’t know you don’t have before you no longer have it is basically the definition of empathy, but it takes time to get there. Often, the time is freckled with adversity. This adversity is subjective, but I want to reiterate, if only for myself, that we are all going through something. Not literally, but the grass of my neighbor might look greener, or the act of acknowledging that theirs has turned to weeds might paralyze me with guilt. But I am someone’s neighbor too, and they are observing my grass. I wish I had grass, though. It’s a cycle, no question, and it can get impede a primal desire to connect, but I am beginning to think it can also be interrupted by the conceptual act of sharing your grass in whatever small way you know it. I talk to my neighbor across the street a lot. He is not naked on his bicycle anymore. Corona changes things.

Mentally Surviving this S***: Or maybe it is better to ask how to make time feel more alive? Or to demarcate it. How do you create the gratifying clear breaks of time that the natural rhythms of daily life, even if that only entails going outside for a short stroll, seem to you? How do you acknowledge whatever festivities were planned when there is no longer a real difference between a weeknight and a weekend night because, at least for me, the material specifics of where I go, what I eat and where I eat, have weirdly blended into themselves. So, my friend and I made Spaghetti Bolognese while dancing Salsa to Carlos Santa during and after cooking. Because, why not? And kinda romantic. I think it was Thursday though who the hell knows anymore when I experienced the familiar desire to race through time in order to get somewhere I want to be again. Remember anticipation? It is funny that as a generation, we have been trying to combat this craving to speed time up, not slow it down. Even though some moments could last forever. Now it is what keeps me buoyed.

All of this is to say that creating a ritual around a thing you love to do then savoring every second of it and sharing it with someone you love, either in physical space, cyberly or by pinpointing yourself as the chosen loved one seems like a worthwhile pursuit right now. For me, it creates a fleeting feeling that makes me think, or lets me pretend, that life is normal. I choose to experience this as a reminder that life will be normal again. It has to be. And if nothing else, today was a good day because we are one day closer than we were yesterday.

Always remember it could be worse: This current situation feels different to everyone. Some feel helpless and anxious. Some are bored. Some are self-quarantined alone, and lonely. Some are realizing that After will be very different from Before. Some just got off their 12th double shift in a row at the hospital and can’t hug their family. Some cannot afford soap. Some are learning how to bake bread. Some are living paycheck to paycheck and the next one will not arrive. Some lost their jobs. Some cannot sleep. Some cannot go to the grocery store because they are at risk. Some cannot afford their rent next month. Some cannot meet with a therapist or lawyer. Some people will lose their business. Some just really need a hug. Some will get divorced this year. Some will have a baby this year or early next year. Some don’t know what they are going to do next. Some are horny. Some won’t see their families for months.

And some are logging off to stay grounded.

This is an interesting article on when the coronavirus social distancing will be over if you would like to read.

Lately, I realize that the best moments on my journey were not important milestones, but rather the slow meandering Saturdays spent walking around the city, exploring and observing. It is easy to feel like I have to figure it all out, but then I overlook the sweet, small moments that are much more valuable in hindsight. This is a challenging time for everyone. One of the loveliest gifts I can give myself is being alone, though. I have discovered who I am by spending time in solitude and learning how to brace tough situations as well as enjoy incredible beauty. Loving my own company is a wonderful tool to use, especially during challenging times when I need space to reflect.

I have had many periods of loneliness, unsure of what I was doing and struggling to make sense of a new city and social atmosphere. I have found that I had to take these moments really slowly. It is easy to say look at the bright side but for some, it is incredibly difficult to do. Remaining optimistic and positive is hard work, and really needs a lot of practice. In this moment of global anxiety and uncertainty, the phrase we are all in this together can feel a little empty. It is hart to tap into a sense of togetherness when isolation is so tangible. It is even harder when you can easily spend an entire day scrolling through an endless stream of difficult news that doesn’t predict when the tune might change or if it is true what we hear on the news. And yet, hope persists. And these little acts of kindness such as buying groceries for my elderly neighbor who does not want to leave the house. These small efforts make a big difference. They are proof that as physically distant as we are, we are closer than ever. Peas floating in the same human soup.

Sometimes, my friend and I compare our daily highs and lows. Things about internal happiness and external desires and dreams. Lately, my highs were to go to the store to buy groceries, to write, practice yoga at home, read a lot, and do laundry. #gettingbackinshapewhilequaranteened. My lows were stepping into my son’s push pin-battlefield for his dinosaurs after my yoga workout. My friend’s high was hanging out together in the woods chasing the feeling of normality. Because nature is calming. His low was many ongoing pressures in his life that trailed him like a demonically possessed shadow. But, everything will turn out okay in the end. Just don’t step on those push-pins.

Otherwise, a lot of memories marched by, starting with the present moment punctuated by the twinge of self-consciousness that has veiled every thought, every move, every decision I have made since quarantine started. What am I doing? What is this sensation? This feeling that if I don’t communicate, I will erupt. Is it frivolous? Indulgent? Is it even helpful? What is “it”? I cannot keep asking this question for long enough to be able to acknowledge that I have taken for granted the answers to these questions all this time. I have had enough confidence in my recognition of the tiny incisions that sizzle within the flesh of what makes the human experience so raw. We are all so very vulnerable.

When my son asks me what is going on, I don’t put on a mask. I don’t pretend it is two weeks ago. He is old enough to understand. But I want to keep things as normal for him as possible. By doing this, he is not losing confidence in me and what I always tell and promise(d) him: this is home. Here, you are safe. Home will always be safe. I define safe as stable and under control with a lot of love. And a cup of black tea with Inländer Rum and honey for special occasions.

Let me tell you, for some reason, even with all this madness going on, I feel stable. I don’t freak out. There are still so many opportunities, so many things to do. I feel grounded and sure of who I am even though I don’t know what will happen in the future. The key is that hopes and expectations are not jumbled together like white and colored separates swirling around in the same washing machine. Just watch that the colors don’t bleed into the whites. But maybe they do bleed you might say. And then I lose my favorite shirt. So what? Maybe through the pursuit of losing this old one, you will find something new. Maybe you will like the new shirt better. So much better that you cannot even remember the one that got ruined way back when.

Even there is so much uncertainty these days, I know I have to slow down. That I cannot and won’t lose my mind. I don’t want to jump higher off the ground but instead sit closer to it. Be more in nature. Connect. And don’t get frustrated. Try to adjust. Because we are all adjusting. We have a lot of time these days. I can give stability to my myself and my son without putting on a mask and to do my best to protect him.

I won’t let the silver lining of white laundry get mixed up with color. And I won’t let social distancing make me distant from myself. Connection is salient these days. Even 2 meters apart. It is going to get easier. We are incredibly resilient as human beings. Eventually, people will return to their happiness status quo. We will adjust and get into a rhythm and flow. Even if things won’t be the same as before. Ois hot a end.

As the coronavirus has developed over the course of the past months, weeks, and days, my plans have changed and so has my life. And it appears this will be the norm for a while. However, I will share and continue writing. This helps me to cope with this insanity. Meet me in unexpected and interesting ways. Let’s talk. Leave comments below.

“I love you very much and look forward to marrying you… but if we have a fight you can always sleep here” – Saw this tiny plaque on a park bench at the playground when the playground was still accessible

Forever, as a concept, has always terrified me. I think it is the finality of the word that there’s no end, no second act. It is especially intimidating in the realm of relationships, which are often only deemed “successful” if they never end. I kind of move in with the presumption that I will never move out. I got married (twice!) with the intention of never being on my own again. I get into bed with someone one night and wake up believing I am through sleeping alone. For a control freak like me, that permanence is overwhelming. When I mentioned this anxiety to a good friend of mine who has been together with her husband for over 45 years, she brushed it off like a piece of lint. Don’t focus on what could have been. Think of all that could be. She said that after seeing each other through countless moves, career changes, childbirths, illnesses, and losses, their love isn’t made up of one continuous commitment, but many smaller, fragmented adventures. That is the lesson that stuck with me the most. That forever is a perpetually growing field of possibilities, one that continues to bloom no matter how many times you mow it over. And when you reframe it like that, all you are left with is an adventure. Remember, when the path reveals itself, follow it.

Marriage according to Nietzsche: He suggests, it be just “one long stupidity”, in which tow desperate people mask their neediness with all the trappings of a conventional life.”

There are these weird TV shows like Love is Blind, The Bachelor, or The Bachelorette when these mythical couples found the love of their life and know that they want to be holding hands until they die. I feel that these shows are just dumb. Why would anybody watch this? Is it just me? Is it okay to not be sure something or someone is for forever? Does happily ever after even exist? I am equal parts romantic and cynical about this notion of one relationship lasting forever, a lifetime. Here is one unsatisfying answer: I am not sure that we can ever be sure about anything.

My friend told me: “Married for 45 years. And happily ever after. We never get into arguments. Instead, we go to the park and read. Or go to the gym.” What do I know about happily ever after? After two! divorces. A woman who has collected more earthly evidence that relationships are sometimes very difficult because I have my own well of experience to draw from.

I think happily ever after is a myth. I don’t think one can seek validation through another person. This won’t pave the path to fulfillment. And anyway, I think I am setting myself up for disappointment if I adopt the mindset that one person will be everything to me. If I had to decide between this one mystery person who fills every void and checks every box, and all of my friends and family who fill my life with joy at present, I am inclined to choose the latter. I believe there is no such things as the one true love, the one soulmate, but rather the right person at the right time. And if you meet this person, go for it. I see how this idea looms large and ominous in my mind: What prepares someone to commit to another person for 45-some-odd years? And guess what? Nothing is fixed. Nothing is assuredly permanent. Everything is always changing, even in a relationship, we want to padlock. What could be less fixed than another person? Hitching your wagon to someone else’s does not mean the wagons stop moving.

I recently read a quote by John Updike on the topic of temporariness. Updike writes “that a marriage ends is less than ideal; but all things end under heaven, and if temporality is held to be invalidating, then nothing real succeeds.” I don’t subscribe to the idea that a relationship that does not last forever is a failure. How do I learn to enjoy something while recognizing its transience, without requiring a certain firmness of it? Is it possible? Doesn’t it feel like some people are much better at it than others? Do you need to come to terms with your own transience before you can do that? Every relationship is transient, after all. Some just last longer than others. So, does happily ever after exist? I don’t know how many friends’ weddings I attended who exchanged vows that I started to cry but who are all divorced now. Lately in these crazy Corona-Times, everywhere I walk, I still see couples. Maybe because it is almost spring. One seated on a bench reading, another laughing and sitting on the grass face-to-face with their legs crossed and their knees touching. Spring feelings after all.

Every moment in life is a teachable one, every disappointment and every curveball is an opportunity to move and grow and change. When I realized this, I became free. An understanding of divine intervention will always be just slightly out of grasp, but it is a journey that leads to fulfillment. This is not how my story ends. It is simply where it takes a turn I did not expect. In the glow of late afternoon in early spring and Corona madness, it is hard not to indulge a glimmer of hope, a feeling of anticipation for the sprawl of the future, and the kind of resolution it may or may not hold. Time will tell. I just enjoy it, don’t expect anything and see where it all goes. Then he will be next to me. And my heart is wide open but well protected.