Second week of confinement ... The days go by quickly. Little by little, we are adapting and getting used to this situation, surreal and unknown, that we are going through.
Surreal because, as if we were living in a dystopia, we find the country paralyzed, the empty streets, the closed shops and stores. We are cut off from the real world but, paradoxically, we are virtually hyper-connected.
This will be the first chapter of the new world that awaits us, post pandemic ... who knows.
Suddenly, our home is our particular universe, and telephones and computers, our most precious tools.
We have returned once again to reading books, to speaking with the neighbors, to contemplating life from our terraces, balconies and windows. Tidying up the house and cleaning, conscientiously, in those forgotten corners ...
Unknown because our current society had not experienced such a strange, extreme and perplexing global situation.
It is our particular war, saving the distances - social distancing.
It is not about armies or invasions, about pistols or cannons, but about masks, gloves, respirators and a whole army of health workers ... they are the true heroes and also the one who are infected with coronavirus who are fighting to keep their journey alive.
Usually, I like to go for a walk in the mountains and be in contact with nature ...
Now, from my terrace, I can only see the tall buildings that surround me on the left and in front, and on the right, the patios of the other houses below with their gardens.
They say that the human being is adaptive and that we get used to what we are living in each moment. So now, these are my particular mountains and forests, my little spaces where I can, every day of confinement, let my imagination and wishes fly ...
Segunda semana de confinamiento...Los días pasan rápido. Poco a poco, nos vamos adaptando y acostumbrando a esta situación, entre surrealista y desconocida, que estamos transitando.
Surrealista porque, como si de una distopía se tratase, nos encontramos con el país paralizado, las calles vacías, las tiendas y comercios cerrados. Estamos incomunicados del mundo real pero, paradójicamente, estamos hiperconectados virtualmente. Será este el primer capítulo del nuevo mundo que nos espera, post pandemia...quién sabe. De repente, nuestro hogar es nuestro particular universo, y los teléfonos y ordenadores, nuestras herramientas más preciadas. Hemos vuelto a leer libros, a hablar con los vecinos, a contemplar la vida desde nuestras terrazas, balcones y ventanas. A ordenar la casa y a hacer limpieza, a conciencia, en aquellos rincones olvidados...
Desconocida porque nuestra sociedad actual no había vivido una situación global tan extraña, extrema y desconcertante. Es nuestra particular guerra, salvando las distancias. No se trata de ejércitos o invasiones, de pistolas o cañones, sino de mascarillas, guantes, respiradores y todo un ejército de sanitarios...ellos son los verdaderos héroes y también las personas contagiadas que luchan por salir adelante...
A mí me gusta salir a caminar por la montaña y estar en contacto con la naturaleza...Desde mi terraza solo puedo ver los edificios altos que me envuelven a la izquierda y en frente, y a la derecha los patios de las casas bajas con sus jardines...Dicen que el ser humano es adaptativo y que nos acostumbramos a lo que tenemos en cada momento. Así que ahora estas son mis particulares montañas y bosques, mis pequeños espacios donde puedo, cada día de confinamiento, dejar volar mi imaginación e ilusiones...
As I look out my window, to the west, I see a tall willow oak, reaching for the sky, with its very horizontal branches, devoid of leaves, speckled with glistening droplets of water, left over from a light rain.
I see a street devoid of people walking by, and automobiles driving by, and children playing, during this national State of Emergency.
I see the curbside and driveways filled with automobiles waiting to transport people to work, or to a doctor’s appointment, or to a store for supplies, or to socialize.
I see a tall vertical utility pole with its outreached street lamp that really needs maintenance because it blinks on, and off, and on, and off, all night long.
I see the horizontal cables of telephone wires, and electric cables, and cables for Internet/TV connectivity.
Looking out on my street, I remember it being lined with police cars a number of years ago when the teenage son set fire to his home, with his mother still inside.
As I gaze upon the rebuilt home, I remember the neighbors around me when I moved into my neighborhood some three decades ago.
The first neighbor and then the second neighbor to the right have passed, as well as the couple across the street, and the one diagonally across the street, and the other to left, all of whom I knew by name.
I feel blessed at having been allowed to live so long.
And now the combination of pollen season and Coronavirus has arrived, perhaps to facilitate my passing.
I can only hope and pray that I will be allowed to stay healthy to do more good stuff, to the benefit of my family, my friends, and mankind in general.
Having looked out my window, I then step outside on my covered porch to listen to the sounds, in the chill of the early evening, following a dreary overcast day.
The chirping birds have gone silent, having bedded down in their nests for the night.
I hear the distant subdued roar of traffic on the Interstate highway.
I hear the distant roar of the commercial airplanes landing and taking off.
The quiet and darkness of the night has descended upon my neighborhood.
I hope and pray that tomorrow will come and be a better day than today.
The thoughts of one very old person named Roger Smith.
I transformed our massage room into a sanctuary to honor mother earth, our ancestors, the ones that have passed, the sick ones,
the ones who will transition and to honor all humanity.
While sitting in silence and while the world was falling apart in a blink of an eye, I have been pondering on the concept of illness.
Perhaps because illness is an old friend of mine; perhaps because it is a good friend of my husband right now. I see it as the fruit of unbalance, a creative force into the humbling healing process journey.
Some of the colors of this journey are: the shock of having to stop “life as usual,” the loss of identity of who you once were, the physical and emotional pain, letting go expectations, projects, learning patience, understanding the whispering voices of our body's messages, slowly adapting to a new life path, and finally Transformation and Healing.
To me, Coronavirus spreading his wings of fear and death into the world is not any different: it feels like the embodiment of the humbling healing journey of humanity. And like any healing crisis, it will take patience and faith as this process cannot be shortened.
If we really want to benefit from the wisdom of its teaching, we cannot rush into a quick fix or we will be left by its ravages.
We have been waiting for this for a long time, the birth of a new world with less polarity, more love and compassion for all lives and
the ecosystem and with no disparity between human beings.
Like any birthing process. it is painful. We are in the midst of mother earth's contractions and we are not yet sure if we will survive.
When I look through my window, I see the gift of this potential.
I see the beauty of the world we live in.
I see the sparrow kissing the apricot buds which just opened.
March 23, 2020
Fear echoes through the empty streets…
I live in Mumbai, India which has a population of approximately 22 million people. The very idea of social distancing seems bizarre here.
We have packed streets, trains, shops, theatres bars, restaurants, markets, schools and daycares… ALL of which are now shut (Medical and grocery stores, I hear, are open).
My husband & I recently moved in to live with my young mum (age 73) to a suburb called Bandra.
Bandra is known for its famous churches, restaurants, small villages, the ocean surrounding the suburb with the Bandstand and Carter Promenade to mark the edge.
This morning, at 8:30 am, my husband and I walked to Pali Market (a usually busy market where most of the residents of Bandra buy their groceries). The roads were empty; a few cars and bikers rode by us. Some even acknowledged us and nodded their heads.
As we walked, we heard birds chirping. It’s rare to hear them; usually, with the noise of the traffic, you don’t.
We picked the essentials and walked back to prepare our meal for the day.
It's 6:00 pm now as I sit by my window, looking out at the street. An old man on his cycle passes by and I think to myself - I have the privilege of working from home: what about the homeless, the daily wagers? The man who had to leave for work on his cycle today? What is going to happen to them?
I feel the blessing that I have this space to stay safe with my family.
I hope the earth will be healed soon.
Lockdown is hearing about arias being sung from balconies but being blasted by AC/DC's “Highway to Hell” instead.
It's worrying about our elderly neighbors one minute then wondering when they're going to shut the hell up with their incessant hammering the next.
It's wishing we could go to lunch at our favorite Chinese restaurant.
It's frustration at making sacrifices while others treat it like a vacation, flooding beach and ski towns.
It's sharing a laugh with my husband when we can find something to laugh about. It's living in 500 square feet divided by two.
It's anxiety about the loss of income as a self‑employed person.
It's being happy I can still teach some of my university classes online.
It's grief at thinking about the people who have been taken away to hospitals where they may have spent their last days alone.
It's despair at seeing the long line of army trucks on the news lined up in Bergamo, ready to transport coffins to other, less crowded crematoriums.
It's anger that Italy's February 28 request to EU member states for masks went unanswered. It's gratitude when the first team of Chinese doctors arrived in Rome on
March 13 with 31 tons of medical supplies.
It's fear that we're expecting a surge of cases here in town.
It's knowing we wouldn't be able to reach our relatives in the U.S. and Poland in an emergency.
It's disappointment at not getting to see West Side Story on Easter Day in New York City.
It's trying to stick to a routine.
It's wanting to read but not being able to concentrate.
It's early morning quiet because that one neighbor isn't starting his noisy car at 5 a.m. to go to work. It's feeling lucky that our apartment is bright and airy.
It's disbelief followed by resignation when they announce schools will be closed for one week, then two, then six, then possibly until September.
It's fury at watching world “leaders” lying and trying to rewrite history.
It's disgust at people jumping on the bandwagon of borders and phone surveillance in the name of containing a virus.
It's being glad I got to the hair salon a week before businesses were forced to close.
It's still not going through boxes which have been sitting above a closet for five years.
It's walking to the grocery store three times in one day before giving up because the line outside is too long.
It's thinking how, if I shut my eyes while I listen to Don Henley's “Sunset Grill,” I can almost, but not quite, transport myself back to a 1990 Hollywood balcony.
It's knowing that one day this will be over, and hoping that we are left as unscathed as possible.
"te mando del balcón de al lado porque los vecinos salimos a los balcones y desde allí nos damos ánimo unos a otros."
I'm sending you a photo of the balcony at the side because the neighbors go out here and we on ours and like this, we encourage each other."
March 18, 2020
A tremendous shock has shaken us all. If someone, even a week ago, had told us that the cities would be deserted and everyone in our homes, we would not have believed it.
Since last Saturday the 14th when the state of emergency was declared in Spain, everything has moved at breakneck speed. It feels like a science fiction movie, but contrary to what appears in catastrophic movies, we are bringing out the best in ourselves to fight this pandemic together.
The younger people, knowing that we can be carriers and therefore transmit it to our elders, we are staying at home and taking care of ourselves in order to take care of them: all those grandmothers who took care of their relatives during the worst of the Crisis, welcoming entire families into their homes when those families had lost everything, and supporting everyone with their pensions, with their spirit, with their dedication. We are staying home and sending them the message that Yes, we DO care.
Also at this time the importance of maintaining a state that provides public services is becoming clear. A great effort is being made by the Ministry of Health to serve all those who need it, and the government has implemented economic measures to help all those who cannot go to work. Now we are seeing the evidence of what our taxes are for, now we are seeing that we are a society in solidarity that protects and cares for the weakest.
From Zahori Massage, we are going to carry out online lessons that help make the stay in our houses more bearable. This will help us maintain contact and not feel alone. It will also help us move and have fun, something that will be more necessary than ever.
We send the rest of the world a message of solidarity and hope, waiting for the moment when we can merge into a long embrace, and wishing from the bottom of our hearts that the best part of ourselves is the one that thrives in these difficult moments.
Even if you don't see me, I'm Sonia, I'm still here by your side, when you need me, at
Capileira, 18 de marzo de 2020
Una tremenda conmoción nos ha sacudido a todos. Si alguien, tan siquiera hace una semana nos hubiera dicho que las ciudades estarían desiertas y todos en nuestras casas no lo hubiéramos creído.
Desde el pasado sábado 14 en que se declaró el estado de alarma en España todo se ha sucedido a una velocidad vertiginosa. Se parece a una película de ciencia ficción, pero al contrario de lo que aparece en las películas catastrofistas estamos sacando lo mejor de nosotros mismos para combatir juntos esta pandemia.
Los más jóvenes, sabiendo que podemos ser portadores y por tanto transmitirlo a nuestros mayores, nos quedamos en casa y cuidamos de nosotros mismos para así cuidarlo a ellos: a todas esas abuelas que durante lo más crudo de la crisis se hicieron cargo de sus familiares acogiéndoles en sus casas cuando familias enteras eran embargadas y sosteniendo a todos con sus pensiones, con su ánimo, con su entrega. Nos quedamos en casa y les mandamos el mensaje de que SI nos importan.
También en este momento está quedando patente la importancia de mantener un estado que preste unos servicios públicos. Desde el ministerio de sanidad se está haciendo un gran esfuerzo para atender a todas las personas que lo necesitan, y el gobierno ha puesto en marcha medidas económicas para ayudar a todas las personas que no podemos ir a trabajar. Ahora estamos comprobando para qué sirven nuestros impuestos, ahora estamos comprobando que somos una sociedad solidaria que protegemos y cuidamos a los más débiles.
Desde Zahori Massage vamos a realizar lecciones online que ayuden a que la estancia en nuestras casas sea más llevadera. Esto nos ayudará a mantener el contacto y a no sentirnos solos. También nos ayudará a engrasar nuestras articulaciones y a divertirnos, cosa que ahora nos va a ser más falta que nunca.
Mandamos al resto del mundo un mensaje de solidaridad y esperanza aguardando el momento en que podamos fundirnos en un largo abrazo, y deseando de corazón que la mejor parte de nosotros mismos sea la que prospere en estos difíciles momentos. Aunque no me veas soy Sonia, sigo aquí a tu lado, cuando me necesites, en www.zahorimassage.es