Present To The Peace, In A Pandemic

Although the world outside is spinning in chaos and upheavel, inwardly, we are being drawn to stillness. Stop going places. Stop seeing friends. Stop getting in your car.

It was just announced that all of the greater Toronto area is going to “red zone.” We are one stage away from total lockdown. It’s back to square one. Restrictions are not as tight, yet, as they were at the start of the pandemic in March. Schools are open, businesses can operate, lines are short. For now. 

It feels like we are being given another chance —  another chance to redefine what our lives are really about. 

One of the lettering art pieces made in this season. I’ve been making a lot of art pieces like this. I “discovered” that I could do this by accident, and it’s become a healing and meditative practice in my life. Will share more about how my lettering art journey about soon!

In March, I was in Guatemala, scheming up ways that I could ask my bosses to work remotely a few weeks this year, praying that they’d be lax about the idea. I ended up on a repatriation flight a few days after the Guatemalan airport locked it’s doors and cancelled all commercial flights. I came back to a fully work-remote life, an blatant answer to my prayers. Of course, I can’t travel anywhere right now, but this season of working remotely was my soul’s longing. I realize that not everyone enjoys being home all the time, but for me, it’s a Godsend. 

The spring was a blur of scrambling to launch urgent projects as the company I work for four days a week scurried to bring all it’s core programs online. I didn’t have to commute, which should have saved me three hours a day, but I never felt that extra time. Instead, I seemed to work longer hours, all the way up to 5:00pm, whereas I used to leave the office by 4:00pm. 

This autumn feels like Life, God, is giving me another chance at settling into my new life. I yearn for an inward peace that I did not get to taste in the spring and summer. I don’t know how long I will get to work remotely like this, but the second wave in Toronto likely won’t die down for another three months. 

It’s cold outside now, and my time spent in nature is limited by how long it takes for my toes to freeze in my boots. This is my chance to slow down. 

Last night, two hours after receiving the news that 14 more regions surrounding Toronto are going into red zome, including my own, I felt the nervousness of a society that is disappointed and afraid. We are all coming to terms with the fact that this Christmas will look like no other. The days feel long when you can’t plan social activities. Is it worth planning Christmas presents? How should I wrap them? Will people be weary of touching plastic, paper, tape? 

More importantly, what am I supposed to do tomorrow when I can’t see friends, go to the gym, sit on a patio or visit the store? 

“We just have to get through this.”

“When will this be over?” 

We are waiting for the bumpy wilderness road to end, so that we arrive at our hotel. But what if the wilderness road is not a detour, but the path? The wilderness road is where you learn to tighten your seatbelt and cling to what you don’t to bounce out the window. 

The pandemic is not a freak accident. It is the earth, life, God, Spirit slamming the brakes on our insanity. We have been murdering ourselves and each other with a frenetic, unconscious pace of work and consumption. We must pause to let the wounds heal. 

“Let me show you what life is really about,” Spirit murmurs when I reach for the final cookie in the package I just opened 45 minutes ago.

“Ok, you’re starting to get it. Here is more time.” 

This second wave is giving me another chance to listen, to recalibrate my soul to who God created me to be. Stripped of my outward strategies for looking productive — and therefore significant — what is my life really about?   

I am learning to leave space for peace in my day. 

I am learning to do one thing at a time.

I am learning to give myself grace, instead of more pressure.

I am noticing my strategies for escaping discomfort, and I am learning to turn away from them. Cooking. Eating.  Dreaming. 

I am learning how to care for and serve others.

I am learning to enter the Inner Sanctuary, the fountain of Everlasting Life. 

I walking this wilderness road with my eyes fixed ever heavenward, where true peace is found. 

Infinite Love,
Anita