“The best way to tell your story is to live a new story.”
— something I heard on Seth Godin’s podcast, Akimbo

“This might be the medicine the world needs.”
— a friend

Today felt less frantic. At least in the space between my ears, anyway.
“Omg. Peter is live streaming rn”
— Meg’s text to me. I missed some of his stream but I was able to go back and play it.

The highlights of my day were Instagram live streams– first of @peterpaints solo jam session in his living room; a perfect accompaniment to carpentering this afternoon under the snow/rain of our beautiful mountain.

And this evening– with @illbeatsradio out in Moab, UT to reminded us we’re born to boogie… and lastly Leslie @lavender.soul.studio with the calming & healing vibrations of her bowls.

I’m making soup.

“Come join us at the brewery”
— a friend’s invite on Friday

As recently as Sunday, friends were socializing, going to bars & coffee shops. Yesterday (Monday) a friend suggested we get together with a couple other friends around lunchtime.
Within the hour of that suggestion, I connected with my family here in town to pick up some groceries they’d got for me– without actual face to face contact. My family and I have been talking with my mother, in Spain, and hearing what a difference just a week has made there. It’s sobering.

Early Thursday morning, Meg and I talked about canceling the pre-ride meeting for the Stagecoach 400. The “vibe” was only just starting to get serious and “social distancing” was an ironic hashtag among cycling & Airstream friends rather than a legitimate practice. What better way to distance ourselves than to go ride & camp in the middle of nowhere?!

We didn’t cancel the meeting; rather we sent out an email Thursday morning explaining that it was on our mind, and we suggested folks stay put if they didn’t want to come out. Some riders stayed away, some showed up. There was still lots of joking about the virus & TP, and lots of hugging.

We figured the ride was low risk, being a handful of riders spread out over vast distances in the middle of nowhere. I sat the ride out for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which is “I’m not fit enough to ride 400 miles right now” but also I wanted to keep in touch with the regular world.

I talk with my mother almost daily, she’s in Madrid. A week ago they had rumors of a lockdown, today they’re fully shut down as the virus sweeps through the nation. She tells me it is very quiet there. Almost nobody is working. I can’t help but to feel like I’m watching a car accident in the USA here, in slow motion. My mother’s account from Spain is the preview.

I understand we have at least one person in Idyllwild currently in quarantine. A friend, this person works in healthcare and may have had contact with a positive-test patient. The quarantine is a precautionary measure.

I am still working. Maintaining 6 feet from the guy I’m working with, but I don’t know how much longer we can or should do that?
My friends Meg & Peter, and others, are coming off the Stagecoach route today. They’re very tired, cold, and want some time to rest with a hot shower. 

My kids are out of school for at least a month. Their mother & I are taking weeklong shifts as we homeschool them; she took the first shift. I don’t have solid plans for how we’ll handle next week but I imagine it’ll involve a good dose of outdoor fun. Maybe the Airstream too?

“I got some groceries, some peanut butter, to last a couple of days…
But I ain’t got no speakers, ain’t got no headphones
Ain’t got no records to play”
— Life During Wartime, Talking Heads

The Hwy 74 viewpoint today on my way to go pandemic shopping

Day One: Friday March 13th, 2020
We’ve had couple weeks’ talk about this Covid-19 virus becoming a real issue in our daily lives. Collectively, we’ve admitted it’s actually a thing now. It feels similar to an evacuation for a forest fire– which I’ve had to do twice now– only you can’t drive away from this. The tension is light, the first few hours feel like days. It feels like the days will last like weeks.

A friend said “God just stopped us in our tracks”
Another friend said“This forces us (LA residents) to slow down and reconsider what matters”

What matters?
Before the pandemic:
My van needed new shocks. To be honest, it’s needed new shocks for months, but I’ve been putting it off for the day when I can afford the super smooth high end ones. The fancy ones made for driving dirt roads.
But they’re kinda spendy.
What if I can’t go to work, and earn as much? Do I still need fancy shocks? Did I ever need them?
Maybe the regular shocks will do. Come to think of it, I could have afforded the regular shocks easily– and had I done so; put on the “regular” shocks– I would have saved myself many trips of teeth-rattling washboard desert roads and some occasionally scary body roll in the mountains. I’ve been driving around on blown, bumpy shocks because I was waiting for the best… and now I feel silly for that.

Don’t let great be the enemy of good. 

Today– I just want the regular, frugal, shocks.
While I do enjoy driving, it’s what I do when I’m out of the car that matters.
Frugality matters, and being here/ doing it now matters.

“Although this world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.”
— Helen Keller

“What have you been up to?! It seems like you’re living the dream by the look of your Instagram feed…” — a friend said to me this morning.
Also this morning, earlier: I called a dear friend from college and poured my heart out about some unpleasant feelings I’ve had lately.
The contrast between these two interactions is poignant: the imagery is real, and the joy is real, but so too is the emotional hardship of simply going through life as an adult, of putting ourselves in the arena and taking our hits.

Sometimes we can be happy, and sad, at the same time. It’s not a facade, it’s not a mask. Last Tuesday I watched a dolphin frolicking in the ocean at El Capitan State Beach, at sunrise. I felt a warmth of gratitude for the opportunity to have the experience; the circumstances of my life and work that allowed me to be there at the time.
But I also felt a tinge of loneliness, a longing for a tribe, and deeper, more meaningful relationships in my daily life. I think this feeling is more common than we usually want to acknowledge publicly.

I’ve had some hard times. Some of them have been recent, heartbreaking, and novel in their challenge.

The challenge of overcoming suffering might be more than just a roadblock in the pursuit of happiness; it might be the work of life itself. Or at least a significant part of it. We’re fortunate we get to do it, because it’s an adventure with rewards like any other.

Some things I’ve learned recently; not in order of importance:
— Love is a verb, an action to be practiced. Love is something to be given, not so much received. There are lots of ways to love; and none of them are transactional.
— Identifying (and naming) the root cause of my feelings is extremely beneficial. I’m seeing this revelation has profound implications.
— In conflict, anxiety serves the problem, not the solution.
— Peace serves the solution, not the problem
— I can’t be my best without a good night’s sleep.
— The Mood Meter app is pretty great. It helps name emotions (you’ve got to name it to tame it) and provides links and guidance to foster better emotional intelligence.