Quarantining
On the other side of the wall is the road and the traffic and the noise. But on this side, at this moment in time, is this morning light, through these curtains. I sit and sway in the hammock, and try not to think, try not to listen, try to ignore the cobwebs, try to just breathe.
Still, the thoughts come.
Is this enough? How can this be enough?
I breathe. I am breathing. It’s just Omicron. I have no shortness of breath, no difficulty breathing. I am grateful. I can’t do some things though, which I want to and had planned to do. Do, do do. More, more more! The mental castigation never stops. I both love and loathe this trait in myself. As much as I welcome and am motivated by the fire in the belly urgency, I long for satisfaction and fulfillment.
When I was little, before I had any aspirations of what I wanted to do, to be, I would sit for hours at a time, watching the ants in the yard scurry around busily. Sitting motionless, observing them- that’s all I wanted to do; I was happy. Now, I watch the cats and dogs sleeping for hours each day, blissfully unconscious. They don’t feel guilty about pissing their life away. They don’t have any mandates to fulfil, any objectives to achieve, any goals. I envy them. I wish to be like that, like when I was a child. Not this adult, plagued by self-doubt and self-loathing at times, beating myself up over unfulfilled potential, undone tasks.
I need to breathe some more. I go out in the yard. Tie the hammock to two of the mango trees, sit and sway. Breathe again. Just breathe.
Then the trees start talking to me.
Look at our pretty new leaves, says the cocoa and avocado. I don’t know if you’ll be aound to see us fruit, but you can admire our beautiful new leaves in the meantime. Stop asking when I’m going to bear, says the lime that’s just getting bigger and bigger but not bearing yet; patience! No mystery here, says the banana suckers; just the cycle of life. It’s not all about fruit-bearing though; the dry leaves also have purpose and use- a good reminder for the middle-aged human. Persistence and co-existence are the lessons of the mangoes and genip, lush and laden with fruit but also sporting rotten branches and entire half trunks eaten away by termites (who still nest within). Re-growth and rejuvenation is possible, says madame jamoon- whittled to a stump years ago but left alone since and now rivaling the coconut tree in height. There is a whole cherry grove behind the old pit latrine and so many cherry seedlings, just sprouting and growing, heedless and undaunted.
The yard is wanton and wild, full of life, little thanks to me. The trees are just being themselves, doing their tree thing, nothing less, nothing more. They are the epitome of enoughness. There is no tree ego demanding more more more! Sometimes not doing anything much is exactly what’s needed. Watch and learn, human. Breathe.
freedombyanymeans 