200619 "i fell and i couldn't get up!" solstice mosaic simplicity covid day 100

june 19

on wednesday my knee collapsed when i tried to run after fig. couldn't put any weight on it at all. i had to call k to fetch me from the field in the car. crawled to the roadside! i was able to move my knee and use it a little by the evening, so i decided not to have it x-rayed. it has slowed me down, though. i can't believe how much mental bandwidth an injury uses up! i have had trouble working just from the distraction of the pain, the difficulty getting about and how tired it makes me. spent most of yesterday staring despondently at my mosaic (partly because i am stuck in a "stall" - see below). but i am feeling better this afternoon, it's been more that 48 hours since the fall, and i can sit and work without any pain. 

tomorrow is the summer solstice. this is an excellent time for reflection and journaling. looking back to the winter solstice, before christmas, write about how life has changed since then, not for the world but for you, your family and friends. and as the year turns towards the summer and fall, what will be different come september, come december.? writing a list of 100 things is cathartic: 100 ways i feel different, 100 things i want to do before i die, 100 things i am grateful for. when writing a list of 100, you are meant to write without stopping, as you would write a "stream of consciousness" exercise. that way your deeper thoughts are allowed to come to the surface and find their way onto the page. i am reminded of frankie's smart-phone journal, recorded on video! (grace and frankie tv series.)

here is my mosaic. it is made of china pieces, mostly broken, put onto a wood log. most of the presentation pieces are in place, but i am at a "stall", uncertain about where to go from here. i am very pleased with it. it is amazing how the pieces seem to find their spot, and match or compliment some nearby piece. i dont know whether i shall call it "ship's log", since it begins to look like a ship!, or "star-date 2020.6" or "sea log", or plain old "fish log".

when grandmas do mosaics on the front lawn, children can find some unusual playthings: the kids turned their water table into a tide pool with all the china shells and dolphins and fish, and later they scrounged, from my craft room, a little tea pot and cups and plates for a dolly tea party. 

this morning fig insisted that we go all the way to the field, so i took my time, and managed to get home safe and sound. came across this lovely wild rose bush. i wished that i could photograph the scent of the little white blossoms.

 

the angel card i drew this morning was simplicity. simply city. that is what we are experiencing now, city life, but more simple, moving in the slow-wave time that characterizes these pandemic days. simple in the daily tasks, simple in the at-home entertainment and meals, simple in what counts as a needed item or outing. most of all i am enjoying the simple pleasure of the urban forest in which we live, the flowers and shrubs blooming in the gardens, and the friendly nods and smiles from our neighbours.

yesterday was day 100 of the covid pandemic. 100 days of social distancing, rivers of sanitizer, masks and gloves. 100 days of innovation, kindness, helping hands, and brave determination. 100 days of sadness for the people who have died or are still sick, for the lonely and shut-away, and the unhappy, who are trapped in their situation until it is safe to seek relief. anger and frustration that the hardest jobs have fallen on the shoulders of the poor and the marginalized. anger that in the midst of so much caring and helping, there is still hate and violence, and that while we should be fighting, together, this coronavirus, as a united humanity, thousands must go into the streets to fight the disease of racism that has been ravaging our nations for hundreds of years.

  [i don't know how to left-margin this.]

may the summer solstice bring healing and hope to all. pick up a midsummer night's dream and read for a little while, under a tree.

i would love to hear about your days.

thanks for visiting. fare well.