Gratitude and Tragedy in Everyday Ramblings

As I mentioned on Facebook, here we are at the end of the world as we have known it. Looking out at heavy toxic air. The fires slowly move closer. Everybody here I know, knows someone who has been affected in a big way. 10% of our state population is now under an evacuation order. Including a number of people that I used to work with. I can’t imagine how stressful it is there and dysfunctional and I am beyond grateful to be shacked up here alone with the cats.

So much of our state with its population of just over 5 million is burning. More than one person has said to me in the last few days…all we need now are locusts.

The protests and reaction to the protests and the politicization of the valid and critical reasons for the protests have created this extra strain on us all with vigilantes setting up their own roadblocks and sheriff’s departments pleading with people not to believe the misinformation and lies being spewed not only on social media but also by certain law enforcement individuals themselves.

People are forgetting too, in the rush to protect and be safe that we are also still suffering through the viral pandemic.

And then there are the drug addicts who are desperate. Property crimes are way up in the city. They are wearing hoods and masks. I ran into a couple this morning early in my one N95 mask out for my only trip outside to get yesterdays mail.

Hey, it may not be for the exact right reason but at least they are wearing masks!

All those pandemic puppies need to be walked. Mrs. Sherlock says she is keeping her walks with Frieda to a four-block radius.

I talked to Mr. Zanzibar in San Francisco the other day. It was ironic that I could say, hey, excuse me, our air quality is worse than yours. He is doing fine, and I am glad for that. The first thing he said to me laughing was, “Aren’t you glad you aren’t smoking anymore?” And I replied, “Of course but that was 34 years ago!”

We were seeing each other when I quit, and he was pivotal in supporting me during that time.

Mr. Zanzibar is Black, and he said that only 2% of the population in The City is Black now. He’s become exotic and he says sometimes he will be out, and parents will say to their kids, “Say hello, to the nice Black gentleman.” He is 82 now and he laughs about how in some ways that mitigates the instinctive threat many White folks feel when encountering a Black man on the street.

He tells me there is a joke locally that there are only 5 Black women in San Francisco and one of them is mayor.

Mrs. Sherlock and I of course had to cancel any sort of outdoor activity this week, but I did Zoom with her and my family is more in contact than normal as well. My local students so far are doing okay although some are housing evacuee relatives.

I started participating in a weekly supportive Zoom call for yoga teachers from all over the world this week. It was good, but for a person with social anxiety it was also terrifying. I have been feeling lately the need for emotional support about all the component parts of bringing classes online.

The biggest concern for all of them though is money. Teaching yoga, particularly to fit people is incredibly competitive and there is a huge amount of anxiety about the fundamentals of providing a livelihood for themselves and their families.

The fact that I am not dependent on a specific income from teaching puts me in kind of a enviable category and sets me apart a bit and that feeds in to my social anxiety as well. Wish me luck being useful to the group and finding a few individuals I can connect with.

We are supposed to get rain on Tuesday. It has cooled down considerably already.

In some form or another we will get through this but the life altering challenging stuff is only beginning.

Last updated September 13, 2020