These swans look like they’re singing together or having a rousing good discussion. I would love to be sitting around with a group of my friends having a good conversation too. I imagine a gathering of friends, a glass of wine, and lots of laughter and hugs.

But, not now in these times

Instead of connecting in person I am trying to talk with a friend or family member at least once a day by telephone. I’ve attended several Zoom gatherings and last Sunday Jon and I had a Google Hangout gathering with our kids and grandkids. It was fun but I miss the hugs and shared laughter in the same room. I miss sitting down to eat a meal with them and playing endless board games and card games. Our grandkids are becoming teenagers and before you know it may become more engaged with their friends than with grandparents. I am so grateful that we can be a part of their lives and hopeful that we can create a better world for their future.

Together At a Distance

So how am I doing? Really?

I am worried some of the time. And other times I feel very calm and confident that all will be well.Time seems more elastic since we began “sheltering in place.” Some days and weeks fly by and the introvert in me thrives, and other days drag ever so slooowly along.

Going somewhere—anywhere—sounds wonderfully attractive to me.

Yesterday Jon and I found some back trails at French Regional Park near where we live and enjoyed a very nice walk in the woods. After our walk we toured more popular parts of the park by car and saw crowds of people out walking there. I was so thankful that we chose the back trails, as social distancing would have been very challenging on the more popular trails. We also drove out to Noerenburg Gardens overlooking Lake Minnetonka to see whether it was busy or a possible place for me to walk with my camera. The gates were chained shut. It’s so sad to see the beautiful spaces I love closed.

Wondering and worrying

I wonder what will happen and what kind of world we will live in on the other side of this (is there another side?). And I wonder how long this will go on. I worry about my oldest daughter who is a nurse and my youngest daughter who lives alone and now works at home. And I worry about friends and family I know whose health is compromised. I worry about those who have lost their livelihood seemingly overnight. And about our country and the world and everything.

But still somehow I know that life goes on. The ducks and geese are busy pro-creating, swimming in the pond, and soaring through the air. The trumpeter swans that winter on the Mississippi River have migrated to their summer digs and are also pro-creating, swimming, soaring, and eating.

Two months ago I could not have imagined this life of together at a distance. None of us could. Now it’s up to all of us to imagine a way forward that cares for the earth and all its inhabitants.

This could be a turning point

Which way we turn is up to our collective will. Do we return to mindless consumerism and life as usual or do we start working to build a world where gross national happiness is more valuable than GDP? I don’t know how to do that, but I do know that if we work together we can create change. Let us make this time we spend together at  a distance be the turning point for creating a better world.

The Swan

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air –
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music – like the rain pelting the trees – like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds –
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

– Mary Oliver

May you walk in beauty.

Note: Photos in this post are from a winter visit I made to Monticello several years ago to photograph the trumpeter swans on the Mississippi River.