It is silent here. I sit straining my ears to identify sounds. My meditation app begs me to hear all of the different sounds around me- "Expand from the sounds next to you - notice the sounds in the distance"- and... nothing. I hear nothing.
The stillness of winter in the Catskill mountain range is deafening. A certain type of oppressor. I can not decide if I love it or if its stealing my energy source. Distilling my breath to feed the silent earth. Whatever it is, in me It births panic- What am I doing? What should I be doing? My legs are pedaling without a bicycle to move me forward.
Two years ago I was begging for quiet. Living in a two bedroom railroad in Brooklyn, sharing a bedroom wall with my neighbor, and a backyard with the community. Silence was non existent. 15 years of living with a cacophony in the background 24 hours a day 7 days a week. The only solitude occurred when lost in a crowd. Anonymity. In rural New York- this is an experience entirely lacking. There is a stronger sense of community and knowing- and also, a pronounced sense of being "othered".
I am one of the New Yorkers who invaded the Catskills during the pandemic. Creating a housing crisis. increased prices, diminished resources, and a mix of gratitude and resentment from long standing local communities. It depends on who you talk to. "GO HOME" appears on a sign about 1000 feet from the new coffee shop - where I sit sipping a golden milk latte, chatting with the owners, and working from my laptop. Soon I will grab some local eggs, gourmet cheese and head up the hill to our under renovation home overlooking the Denver Vega Valley.
In my short time here I have watched the landscape shift from shuttered buildings to specialty stores, herbal apothecaries that I used to frequent in Brooklyn are now a 15 minute drive away. Coffee shops with vintage furniture and record collections boast perfectly curated baked goods using all the best product from local farms. Local businesses are thriving due to the new demand for quality products. Just try to find a contractor with an opening for renovations. Every contractor I've spoken to will give you an exasperated response before diving into a desperate explanation of "there is so much demand. I can'y possibly find enough hands to get through the work I already have on my plate." etc, etc. One contractor went so far as to call me back and leave a voicemail apologizing for his rant, and offered to come give me a quote despite his busy schedule. I sincerely appreciated that guy.
I can not answer how this will change the area in the future, but I am curious how this experience will change me. Will I allow it to change me? My nervous system is healing, there is no doubt about that. But a lingering sensation of pause is constant. I have yet to integrate this experience as my own. Pandemic fog remains. Everything changed in an instant.
As a trauma therapist I know that whenever the psyche experiences an abrupt change or loss the body registers it as traumatic. The nervous system turns on- and I don't think mine has turned off yet. March 12th 2020 I boarded a plane home from Los Angeles - for what would be my last three days in my office I adored. In the week that followed I lost an office, direct contact with all my clients, my husband lost his job and fell ill with covid, and we lost all freedom of socializing. None of that has normalized yet. It's been nearly two years of waiting.
In these years we have created some new seeds of our own. We bought a home. A very ugly , neglected home that we have been lovingly bringing back to life.
Some things have also remained the same, my practice is maxed out- one of many mental health therapists at capacity, I feel blessed and also supremely exhausted at the end of each week. Virtual therapy requires much more energy. Even more so when life has lost all definition.
There are no moments of transition, I close my computer and step into the kitchen and start making dinner- there is no head space - no time to travel back home to my husband and cats. Those 20 minutes between me and home provided so much. It was space and time to process, even if I was surrounded my fellow New Yorkers crammed onto a hot subway car breathing in each others exhales. It was different. Defined. My work was somewhere else, unreachable after hours. Now it is all crammed together, like a sneaker two sizes too small, I am bursting to be free.
If you had asked me two years ago about my idealized work life. I would have answered assuredly " I would love to have an online therapy practice so that I can work from anywhere." Now that it's here, I am not so sure. I miss my clients. I see them weekly but I miss their presence. I miss having a container that doesn't have a screaming cat or a spotty connection. I miss having a break in the day where I don't also feel obligated to prep for dinner or fold the laundry.
What I have yet to experience and take advantage of is the freedom that comes with virtual work. Due to the pandemic, and 1,000 house renovation tasks on the to do list I have yet to travel and work. Will it be everything I wanted? We are about to find out. I have booked a 10 day trip to Spain. Solo. Sola. (for my Spanish tutor)
My goal is to capture the experience. To be honest here in my writing. To make permanent the experience and feelings that are so often impermanent.
If you are here reading this you are my witness. I am making a promise to myself to show up more for my writing. I have prized writing, hid this sacred love of mine. In hiding I have repeatedly disappointed myself.
In meditation there are three soul questions according to Deepak Chopra - Who am I? What do I want? What is my Purpose?
Every single time my mind responds to the first with, "I am a writer." As a child I would retreat inside my journals. They were my constant companion, my place that I could build a replica of my insides with language. As an adult I am terrified that if I try and fail I will be devastated beyond recognition.
Today I share with you- I am a writer. I want to use my personal experience and art to impact the world. My purpose is to hold space using creativity to offer gentleness to a battered collective.
From here I promise myself- I will write. I will not be precious with it. I will share my humanity, my thoughts and my reflections. Like Glennon Doyle says "Without Babysitting" them. Thanks for being here for the ride.
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