As our virus battle continues, it’s good to know that nature is benefitting. There’s much less human activity and our oceans, forests, grasslands and animals are reaping the profits.
The Pacific Ocean off the coast of Vancouver Island
I hate everything about this situation, but at least nature is getting a break.
Spreading a bit of light and pleasure to those confined by the current crisis. See post 1, here, for an explanation. This is the 21st post. Our walk β¦
I find working from home to be weird, even after almost a month of it from my locked down state.
I’m feeling it, both mentally and physically.
Normally, I walk to work and then spend a lot of my day on my feet. I’m in and out of offices and other areas and people are always dropping by to see me for all sorts of reasons. It’s busy busy. My days can flash by.
Itβs a different road right now, whether we want it or not.
I’m trying to separate work and home, but that’s difficult when home starts in the hallway outside my door.
I’m sitting at my computer for long periods of video calls, phone calls and texts and have to remind myself to get up and stretch.
I’m missing items and materials that are in my work office, but I can’t go there.
My home printer died a couple of days ago and I need a scanner.
I’m gaining weight.
I’m sometimes finding it difficult to focus.
It’s not the best situation by a long stretch, a very long stretch.
Dawn breaks.
But then I remind myself of all the people who have lost their jobs in this virus world and I remember to be grateful and stop my whining.
I remember that I’m not sick, nor are any of my loved ones. I haven’t lost anyone to this scourge. I’m together with my M, and I have food, a comfortable place to live in, caring phone calls and texts from friends and family and colleagues, and best of all, I have toilet paper. π
It’s a strange weird world and I don’t want to be in it (wah) but there are many alternatives that are a whole lot worse.
The premier of Nova Scotia got pretty frustrated at the number of people still going outside to loiter in groups, so during a press conference he told residents to “stay the blazes home.”
On my recent return to Canada, I took some photos of the sunrise as we chased it into the west.
As we flew above the cirrocumulus clouds, it really hit me that this experience – flying into the west above a layer of lake-like rippled cloud, or most any flying at all – would soon be coming to a screeching halt.
I wondered about how much of this virus situation we have done to ourselves. There is a densely packed underside to humanity, and we all know of it.
Part of that underside is our insatiability.
There never seems to be enough money, food, clothes, cars, trips, technology … toilet paper, to satisfy us. We usually seem to need more, more, more of whatever it is, and sometimes, because of this, we are releasing things that we do not understand or respect, even tiny little things, like viruses. Are we simply just ignoring this? Flying above it?
Is this Earth’s way of slowing us down? Of forcing a break? Is Earth finally getting a much-deserved rest?
… unless it’s showing its stormier characteristics.
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl’d shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.