I’m sipping this great cup of coffee, this morning, before work. The news is still focused on the pandemic. No surprise. It’s getting weird, though. The number of people frustrated enough by stay-at-home orders to begin protesting those is fairly astonishing. Seriously, People? Stay-the-fuck-at-home. Good grief. This is not about profit or economic measures of success, it is about survival. My suspicion is that most of the folks suddenly raising their voices in protest are being manipulated by business interests (in some cases filtered through politicians or pundits) eager to get back to making profits, and avoid the looming risk of having to actual pay substantial healthcare and sick leave benefits long-term, beyond this crisis. It’s too easy to capitalize on individual frustrations with having to stay at home. Some folks already live on the ragged edge of what they can afford, and they can’t legitimately afford to be either out of work, or staying at home. It’s uncomfortably harsh, and very few people have received any of the promised relief being discussed. Still…

…Stay-the-fuck-at-home, for fuck’s sake. Lives are depending on that. People you know and care about. People you rely upon, but have never met. Real people.

The weekend was lovely. This cup of coffee is excellent. This moment is calm and characterized by contentment. It’s the beginning of another work week. I take time for gratitude (I am fortunate to be able to work from home). I also take time for perspective (not everyone is able to work from home) and empathy (how scary to feel confined while resources run low). I consider the practical details (delivery services are available) and the people who make it possible for everyone else to stay at home – because they are out there working, for the rest of us (delivery drivers, cooks & stockers, warehouse workers, waste collection people, mail carriers, healthcare professionals…). Complex times.

I sip my coffee and think things over. My cuticles are ragged from stressful picking at them when I’m not aware of it. Fucking hell – the least I can do is not tear at my damned cuticles. lol I find some value in that thought; maybe that’s the “hook” I need on which to hang that change of behavior long-term? It’ll take practice… my results will vary, most likely… but it is a choice, and I can begin again.

A small change can really impact our quality of life – even during this time of pandemic. 🙂 A choice can become a practice. A practice can become a change, over time. We become what we practice.

…What are you practicing?

It’s already time to begin again. 🙂