- L
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LOVES IN THE TIME OF CORONA
“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”
- Henry David Thoreau
I’ve lead a pretty charmed life...a privileged life...some might even say a pretty unique life...I’ve had a blessed life for sure. But - as many of us may very well do from time to time - I have quite often taken the moments and experiences I’ve been able to experience for granted. Not that I’m ungrateful for the life I’ve had, but more for the fact that...well...it’s the only life I’ve ever known. And many days - quite truthfully - probably about 99.9% of the time I catch myself wrapped up and wallowing and ruminating, contemplating, marinating...absolutely STEWING in sea of self-loathing over how unremarkable I am...how I’ve spent over 4 decades on this crazy, wonderful, terrifying, beautiful, awful, madly spinning sphere...and 99.9% of the time I feel like I’ve squandered the majority of those decades being SO afraid of life that they’ve gone profoundly unlived...that the bulk of those decades have only been lived in quiet desperation.
But then every once in a while, I talk to people - as people do - and in sharing myself and my stories with them - as people do - I’m often reminded by their reactions and responses, the looks on their faces and even just by hearing the words coming out of my mouth...I’ve lead a PRETTY extraordinary life...a charmed, privileged, unique, blessed life that has been far outside the realm of experiences of growing up shared by probably 99.9% of people in the world. I’ve had the luxury of living a pretty loud life...and - thankfully it’s lead me here.
As I write this, I’m sitting on my porch of my bungalow on the tiny, paradise island of Koh Phangan locates in the Gulf of Thailand. It’s the middle of the night. All is quiet and pretty dark...except for the outline of palm trees in the distance silhouetted by the night sky. There’s a slight tropical breeze and I’m watching my foster dog - Ella - asleep on a cushioned bench. My 8 year old son is staying with his father tonight and DESPERATELY anticipating the re-opening of his international school in the next coming days and the ability - after all these months - to get to be with his friends again.
SO HOW DID I GET HERE...
When I’m not wallowing...or sometimes in conjunction with the wallowing...I often find myself asking myself, “How the hell did I get here?” Sometimes it’s: “How the HELL did I get here!?!?!” Sometimes it’s: “HOW the hell did I get HERE!?!?” Sometimes it’s: “How the hell DID I get here!?!?” And sometimes it’s the ecstatic, profoundly grateful: “How the hell did I GET here!?!?” Well...I’ll tell ya how the hell I got here...A LOT of planes, trains, busses and a ferry...and it took me 40 years to make the trip...
So you know that privileged life I mentioned before...well I was fortunate enough growing up that one of the perks of my father’s job was that my family got to travel...A LOT. My first flight I ever took when I was 3 years old and my family went on a trip that summer to Italy and Turkey. Pretty much every summer - or every other summer - after that, my parents would haul me and my brother all OVER the globe! I did and saw and went and experienced all these places and people and things that most adults - most people in this world - will never have the opportunity of doing or seeing or going and experiencing in their lives...and I didn’t realize it at the time, because it was just my normal life, but I was a VERY fortunate kid.
And somewhere over that time and along the way and all’s those trips around this crazy, wonderful, terrifying, beautiful, awful, madly spinning sphere...I fell in love...
Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with the doing and seeing and going and experiencing and places and people and things...I fell in love with traveling and I fell in love with the world...and though I haven’t had the greatest track record with relationships, there has ALWAYS been a part of me that knew THIS one was NEVER going to end...
When I was 13 years old and just about to enter my freshman year of high school, my father - through his job - took a post in Jakarta, Indonesia. My older brother was starting his freshman year of college back in the states when my father, mother and I left my hometown in Virginia and moved halfway around the world. I mean - truth be told - I was a teenage girl with all the angst and emotions that comes with being a teenager girl and I was pissed at my parents for doing that to me...and by the end of my father’s 3 year post I couldn’t WAIT to get out of there and move back to the states and probably would’ve told you at the time that I hated the whole thing. But it was so normal for me that at the time - I could not understand, appreciate or even see how extraordinary the whole experience was.
“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”
- Henry David Thoreau
I’ve lead a pretty charmed life...a privileged life...some might even say a pretty unique life...I’ve had a blessed life for sure. But - as many of us may very well do from time to time - I have quite often taken the moments and experiences I’ve been able to experience for granted. Not that I’m ungrateful for the life I’ve had, but more for the fact that...well...it’s the only life I’ve ever known. And many days - quite truthfully - probably about 99.9% of the time I catch myself wrapped up and wallowing and ruminating, contemplating, marinating...absolutely STEWING in sea of self-loathing over how unremarkable I am...how I’ve spent over 4 decades on this crazy, wonderful, terrifying, beautiful, awful, madly spinning sphere...and 99.9% of the time I feel like I’ve squandered the majority of those decades being SO afraid of life that they’ve gone profoundly unlived...that the bulk of those decades have only been lived in quiet desperation.
But then every once in a while, I talk to people - as people do - and in sharing myself and my stories with them - as people do - I’m often reminded by their reactions and responses, the looks on their faces and even just by hearing the words coming out of my mouth...I’ve lead a PRETTY extraordinary life...a charmed, privileged, unique, blessed life that has been far outside the realm of experiences of growing up shared by probably 99.9% of people in the world. I’ve had the luxury of living a pretty loud life...and - thankfully it’s lead me here.
As I write this, I’m sitting on my porch of my bungalow on the tiny, paradise island of Koh Phangan locates in the Gulf of Thailand. It’s the middle of the night. All is quiet and pretty dark...except for the outline of palm trees in the distance silhouetted by the night sky. There’s a slight tropical breeze and I’m watching my foster dog - Ella - asleep on a cushioned bench. My 8 year old son is staying with his father tonight and DESPERATELY anticipating the re-opening of his international school in the next coming days and the ability - after all these months - to get to be with his friends again.
SO HOW DID I GET HERE...
When I’m not wallowing...or sometimes in conjunction with the wallowing...I often find myself asking myself, “How the hell did I get here?” Sometimes it’s: “How the HELL did I get here!?!?!” Sometimes it’s: “HOW the hell did I get HERE!?!?” Sometimes it’s: “How the hell DID I get here!?!?” And sometimes it’s the ecstatic, profoundly grateful: “How the hell did I GET here!?!?” Well...I’ll tell ya how the hell I got here...A LOT of planes, trains, busses and a ferry...and it took me 40 years to make the trip...
So you know that privileged life I mentioned before...well I was fortunate enough growing up that one of the perks of my father’s job was that my family got to travel...A LOT. My first flight I ever took when I was 3 years old and my family went on a trip that summer to Italy and Turkey. Pretty much every summer - or every other summer - after that, my parents would haul me and my brother all OVER the globe! I did and saw and went and experienced all these places and people and things that most adults - most people in this world - will never have the opportunity of doing or seeing or going and experiencing in their lives...and I didn’t realize it at the time, because it was just my normal life, but I was a VERY fortunate kid.
And somewhere over that time and along the way and all’s those trips around this crazy, wonderful, terrifying, beautiful, awful, madly spinning sphere...I fell in love...
Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with the doing and seeing and going and experiencing and places and people and things...I fell in love with traveling and I fell in love with the world...and though I haven’t had the greatest track record with relationships, there has ALWAYS been a part of me that knew THIS one was NEVER going to end...
When I was 13 years old and just about to enter my freshman year of high school, my father - through his job - took a post in Jakarta, Indonesia. My older brother was starting his freshman year of college back in the states when my father, mother and I left my hometown in Virginia and moved halfway around the world. I mean - truth be told - I was a teenage girl with all the angst and emotions that comes with being a teenager girl and I was pissed at my parents for doing that to me...and by the end of my father’s 3 year post I couldn’t WAIT to get out of there and move back to the states and probably would’ve told you at the time that I hated the whole thing. But it was so normal for me that at the time - I could not understand, appreciate or even see how extraordinary the whole experience was.