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Diving for Light Day 7 - Developing Emotional Resilience

3/31/2020

(I got) a lot of practice with “bench-pressing” my discomfort with uncertainty…I couldn’t make what I wanted happen, so there was nothing for me to do other than to practice being with the fear and anxiety of not knowing what the outcome would be, much like you would practice lifting weights to get stronger muscles. - Lisa Rankin, The Anatomy of a Calling

We are solidly in week two of social distancing in the Atlanta, GA area. The euphoria of the first week, of the enjoyment of alone time, is wearing thin. If my Facebook feed is any indication, many of my friends are in the same part of the process of adapting to something new - we are exercising new emotional muscles, and we are weary. I find myself longing for physical touch from other human beings. I work with my hands in everything I do. The new normal is exhausting and I just want my life back.

I have seen some suggestions recently that re-framing the terms we are using might help re-frame the fear and anxiety into something more tolerable, less terrifying. I like these suggestions a lot, so I’ll share them here. What if, instead of “social distancing” we practice “physical distancing?” There is no need to shut out or stop interacting with our friends. We just can’t be in the same room together. In fact, my dear friend Sarah emailed me the other day to set up a virtual dinner party for us tonight. We’ll all meet on Facetime at 6:30 pm, sitting next to our spouses on the same side of the table, with the laptop in front of us, eating our dinners together. We’ll be practicing physical distancing, but we will not be socially isolated in hanging out with our friends over dinner. I love this idea. Who else wants to have dinner with Dave and me?

Here’s another one I like - instead of “sheltering in place”, I’m an “artist in residence.” I don’t see this as putting pressure on myself to create something. It’s just reframing what I already do. When Dave and I make music, when I bake a cake, when we’re out gardening, all of these are artistic pleasures that are part of daily living. Do we have to try to become the next Beethoven or Julia Child? No. If we take a moment to enjoy the artistic output of daily living, a moment in joy, we’ve created a new muscle of resilience to fall back on without trying to add anything else to our lives.

Those resilience muscles are going to be ever more important to have in place. Just yesterday I learned of my second personal friend to have COVID-19. One friend is in the hospital fighting for his life, the other is at home and beginning to recover after two long weeks with his wife caring for him. The pandemic is suddenly very real for me. We hear these stories every day now. The fear of this virus which is like nothing the earth has seen for over 100 years is well-founded. Giving ourselves permission to slow down, to grieve, to be with our emotions, to not have to “do” anything, is important.

So, don’t add that extra free course in languages just because you can. Go ahead and binge watch Netflix. I know I did last night, after I ate the chocolate cake I baked. (Some days are worse than others, and stress baking is real.) Even though we’re apart, we’re all in this together. If you’d like a distance Alexander lesson, or even just to talk, I’m here. I’d like to talk to you and teach a bit, even if it is hands-free.

And one more thing, use this time to catch up with people you love. Call your old friends. Say everything to them you need and want to say. Don’t miss the opportunity to tell someone you love them.

Exercise to Try
Constructive Rest
Constructive Rest is the classic Alexander Technique exercise of “undoing.” If you find yourself physically and mentally stressed, if you’re having a hard time breathing fully, if your body is begging you to lie down, Constructive Rest is for you.

Set up: (A yoga mat is helpful, but optional.) Lie down on the floor with a book or magazines under your head. Feel the ridge of your skull resting on the book. You should be able to look straight up and feel your throat as open - if your head is tipped too far back or too far forward your throat may feel a bit more constricted. Play with book height to find a place where you are most comfortable.
Place your feet flat on the floor with your knees raised.
Place your hands on your belly so you can sense your breathing.

Imogen Ragone demonstrating Constructive Rest

Exercise: Lie quietly on the floor and notice your breathing. Don’t change it, just notice it. When the air comes in, your lungs expand and you can feel yourself widening across the back. As you exhale, your spine has the opportunity to lengthen. Continue to lie quietly and notice yourself lengthen and widen. If you find any areas of tension in your body, ask them to let go. Don’t “do” anything, just ask. And then notice.

Stay on the floor for 10 - 20 minutes. When you’re ready to get up, bring your attention back to your breath. Then roll gently onto one side keeping your head resting on the books. Use your hands to push you up to sitting, allowing your neck to stay soft. Stay there a moment and notice how you feel before standing and walking around a bit.

My friend and colleague Imogen Ragone offers a free 30-day Constructive Rest Challenge with guided meditations each day. Click for more information.

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Diving for Light, Day 6 - Writing as Creative Expression

3/30/2020

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One writes not to be read but to breathe...one writes to think, to pray, to analyze. One writes to clear one's mind, to dissipate one's fears, to face one's doubts, to look at one's mistakes--in order to retrieve them. One writes to capture and crystallize one's joy, but also to disperse one's gloom. Like prayer--you go to it in sorrow more than joy, for help, a road back to “grace.”
- Anne Morrow Lindbergh, War Within & Without: Diaries

As a child, I loved creative writing. The next best thing to reading stories was making up my own. With the glorious self-centeredness that only childhood before age 10 can bring, I remember that I was constantly writing my own autobiography inside my head. It’s funny now, but then the idea of telling myself the day’s events as if a third party were writing them seemed extremely important. I wish I’d had the skills to write more of that imaginary biography down - it would be a treasure now. In high school I journaled and wrote for pleasure, submitted stories to papers and magazines, and wrote tons of poetry.

Coffee first, writing second. I know my priorities.

As an adult, I’ve put my writing talents to a lot of things, mostly business-related editing. I created and edited a newsletter for the Eastern Division of the Organization of American Kodály Educators called “Eastern Expressions,” and kept that going for 6 years. I spent even longer editing a quarterly newsletter for Well for the Journey. Both of those involved collecting and editing articles from other people, and then writing my own short column to weave it all together.

My creative writing muscle had atrophied a bit over the years. I stopped journaling during motherhood when I felt I couldn’t make the time and never went back. Poetry went by the wayside as well. I remember having a conversation with a teacher friend at school one day as I was mourning my loss of creativity. She reminded me that

I was parenting, which was the most creative thing a person can do. She also assured me that my creative writing would return, eventually. She was correct, of course. It unfolded slowly as I took a few workshops on the different types of writing I had enjoyed in my younger years, happy to see the light again.

When I started blogging I had no idea how much I would enjoy this kind of writing. My blog has been a public journal, a trip into my past, and a way of talking about my Alexander Technique work. Right now, during COVID-19, writing daily is something that gives structure to my day and helps me process current events. It allows me “to think, to pray, to analyze,” as Anne Morrow Lindbergh so eloquently says. I wake up in the morning and I can’t wait to get up to my office and get started.

Here we are, with long, empty days stretching ahead of us. Have you always wanted time to write? Are you looking for a way to process these vast changes in our lives? The time is now. Pick up an actual pencil and find one of those pretty blank books that’s lying around your house somewhere. (You know you have one…) Find a quiet place to be alone, start doodling, and see what happens.

If you need some structure, see the exercise below, which also unites mind and body in the writing process.

My favorite journal these days.

Exercise to try:
Letter to Yourself
Using a pen or pencil and paper*, write a letter of gratitude to a part of your body. Let it know how much you love and appreciate all that it has done for you over the years.
Then, sit quietly and notice how that part of you feels.

You can do this every day for a week, writing to a different body part each time.
At the end of the days you allot to do this, see how your body feels. Are you more aware of the parts you thanked? Are you easier in those places?

* Why not write on a computer? If you are trying to get your writing muscles back in shape, there is something about the physical act of writing - of the flow of information from the brain and out the hand, that cannot be replicated by typing. Try it and see for yourself. No one cares how bad your handwriting may be!

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Day 5 - Being Human

3/27/2020

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“To be human is to live by sunlight and moonlight, with anxiety and delight,
admitting limits and transcending them, falling down and rising up.”
- Barbara Brown Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark

Our woods on a misty spring morning. Photo credit, Dave Marcus

As the COVID-19 crisis goes on and begins to touch people I know, grief, sadness and fear are becoming part of each day. I may have a lot of coping skills at my disposal, but that doesn’t make me less human, less able to feel the pain and sadness in the world.

There are good days and bad days. On the best days I can stay centered and grounded, I can stay away from the news, I can go out in my garden and work. On a good day, as Dave said to me recently, “This isn’t that different from our normal lives.” And for us, that’s true. We’re two introverts who often have to literally drag ourselves out of our isolated house in the woods. Now, we don’t have to go anywhere. We already have most of our purchases delivered to our door since it’s so far to the stores. Hand sanitizing wipes and precautions aside, this is not an unusual way for us to live. What is unusual is putting aside all the ordinary interactions - a nice Southern conversation with the delivery and mail people or, running over for a chat with the neighbors. No handshakes, no hugs. That’s hard. Dave went out to pick up our farm share order yesterday and came back glowing because he got to talk to the physically distant employees while he packed the bags. I saw our neighbors at the community garden. That was nice, too. Yesterday felt relatively normal.

Other days, things are much harder. That’s when the news gets to me as I hear about a young local high school principal dying. Or I read that the ICU beds at the largest Atlanta hospital are already overflowing. Today I saw that Coronavirus has started in the big prisons in southern Georgia. This is immense and our non-Medicaid-expansion state will be totally overwhelmed, very quickly. I’m a high-risk person with asthma, and I live here. Sometimes I look over at Dave and he is watching me with tears in his eyes. I know what he’s thinking. I know what I’m thinking.

Both ends of this emotional continuum are ok. Both are normal. Both are simply part of being human.

Image from https://www.wyzant.com/resources/lessons/science/physics/pendulums

When I teach Alexander Technique, I often use the idea of a continuum with my students. Every part of life, every way we can move in the body, is on some kind of continuum. For example, I can extend my arm way out of the shoulder socket and reach across the table for the salt shaker. It’s great that I can do that! If I’m using the same amount of effort and reaching from the shoulder each time I move my computer mouse, I’ve got a problem. It’s the same with emotions like grief and joy. We can go so far into grief that we almost can’t get back. We can experience intense joy, rapture, even. But we don’t want to live in either of those extremes. Our continuums have pendulums that swing back and forth. AT is about gradually decreasing that pendulum swing and finding “neutral” (equilibrium) in the middle of any given continuum.

For me, COVID-19 “neutral” means living the best you can each day, worrying about the present moment only - not tomorrow, not yesterday. My friend Ren Doughty published this post on Facebook yesterday. I have his permission to share it with you.

I don't have to live all of my tomorrows right now. Just today.
I don't have to solve my entire life's problems today, just today's.
I don't have to answer my entire life's questions today, just today's.
I don't have to hurdle all of life's obstacles or heal from all of life's injuries today, just today's.
I don't have to secure all of life's meals or clothing today, just today's.
I reject the tsunami of my entire life's worries today. I'll just do my best to handle today's.
Tomorrow's possible problems and challenges have me gravely concerned but I'm going to deliberately cut them loose, watch them float away, and take care of today to the best of my ability.
Today my family and I have shelter, clothing, and enough to eat.
I'll handle tomorrow tomorrow.
- Ren Doughty

I’m going to print that out and hang it on my refrigerator. Feel free to do the same.

Dave let me pull him out of the garden. Photo credit, Robbin Marcus

Exercise to try:
Circuit of Support
Sit in a dining room- type chair where you can be upright. Allow the chair to support you. Feel your sit bones touching the chair, your back resting on the chair. Notice your feet on the floor. If your feet are not flat on the floor, put something (a large book, a yoga block) under them so that they can rest.
Place your hands on each of your thighs, palm down.
Close your eyes and sense down through the legs of the chair to the floor. Feel the 4 legs of the chair support you.
Now, allow the support of the ground to come up through the legs of the chair and into your sit bones. Feel that support rise up through your spine, up to the crown of your head as you inhale.
On the exhale, allow that wave of support to continue down the front of your body, into your arms, through your hands, into your thighs, and down through your feet back into the ground.
Once the circuit is established, let it keep going as you breathe in and out. Send any negativity, any lack of support, any tension back into the ground on the exhale. Breathe in the support from the ground, breathe out tension.
Open your eyes and continue to sense the circuit of support.

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Diving for Light, Day 4 - Slowing Down, Finding Joy

3/25/2020

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“The high value put upon every minute of time, the idea of hurry-hurry as the most important objective of living, is unquestionably the most dangerous enemy of joy….
Seek out each day as many as possible of the small joys.”
- Hermann Hesse, My Belief: Essays on Life and Art

I don’t go anywhere without my calendar. If an event isn’t written down there, it’s entirely possible I’ll double-book myself, because my calendar is packed. This probably started somewhere in high school when I got involved in drama and music lessons after school. I remember some long joy-filled weekends with nothing to do in college, but once I hit adulthood and motherhood – there was always something to do, somewhere to be.

Working parents are acutely aware of what that kind of scheduling is like, and if you’ve never experienced it, times your own busy schedule by 2 or 3 children and think about it for a few minutes. That’s when my calendar simply exploded. It’s stressful just sitting here remembering.

I decided when I left full-time teaching that I would never go back to that kind of rushing again. For the first year of living in Atlanta, I un-wound. I stared out the window. I had no social activities, I had no job, I had nowhere particular to go other than to the grocery store. It was an odd time, and it took me a couple of months to grieve leaving my old life and to learn to enjoy being alone during the day. I had to let go of the need to DO and decide to just BE to appreciate the gift of time and space. I started by seeking out the “small joys” in living. I began with gardening and house projects, because I love doing these things. I sewed a lot. It became a lovely and joyous time of reconnecting with myself and getting to know my new husband.

Gradually, my schedule began to fill. I started teaching Alexander Technique, and then added Piano lessons. I found many fun ways to spend my time while in Decatur for work. Gigs for piano playing and dance leading or getting together with friends occupy our weekends. And for a “semi-retired” person, I’m busier than I want to be. In fact, recently I’ve been whining about it, just a little, and trying to figure out where to cut back in order to spend more time at home with my newly retired husband.

My recent calendar with names blacked out. Two open days in the entire month!

Oddly enough, this forced break from my work, from the gigs, from the gym, from all the things that keep me out of the house is like Deja-Vu all over again. That description in the third paragraph could be me talking about last week. This time, though, it won’t take me months to unwind. I’m not starting a new life, I’m doing less in this one. I’m doing my own self-work to stay grounded and away from anxiety. I limit my news intake, and I look for the joy in small things, like sprouting seeds on my windowsill.

I have dear friends who have told me this week that they are simply filled with anxiety and dread for what’s to come. Lest you think I’m an ostrich, I not only understand that, I feel it, too. Fear and anxiety are appropriate reactions to a virus that might kill us. We do, however, have a choice about how we respond to that fear and anxiety. My choice is not to dwell in fear, but to live in gratitude for a life I love.

How can we unwind from busy-ness? How can we let go of fear and physical tension? How can we choose joy? Today’s exercise is a great place to start. You can do it as often as you need to.

Exercise to Try:
The CyCle:
An etude from Primal Alexander (the work of AT teacher, Mio Morales) that is like a meditation, using a question in a repetitive cycle.

To prepare, find a place to sit quietly with your hands in your lap.
Ask yourself:
1. What sensations am I feeling at this moment?
2. Where do I feel a bit of tension/pain/tightness?
3. At this moment, where do I seem a bit easy?

The CyCle:
Take one of your thumbs and hold it gently with your other hand.
Ask yourself this question:

Where else do I seem a bit easy?

Listen for your body’s response, then ask the question again…
Ask it 4 times for each finger on one hand.
Keep track of the repetitions by holding each of your fingers – 20 questions, total.

Switch hands and begin with holding your other thumb.
Now 20 more times, each time letting the question become quieter, using less effort.

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Diving for Light, Day 3 - Global Awakening

3/24/2020

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"A global awakening can only happen from a spiritual awakening that is of global proportions."
-Matthew Fox, Original Blessing

I don’t feel old, but I am old enough to remember the first whispered beginnings of the Internet. My friends in college, Gerry and Butch, were among the first computer science majors, and they were incredibly excited about something new that was being referred to as the World Wide Web. It was all code to me, but their excitement was infectious. Something new that was going to connect people all over the world – bringing positive change to dark places, opening technology for free to those who had no previous access.

A few years later, as a young teacher, I remember the first Apple 2E computers arriving at school. The whole faculty had to take training classes, and it was a big learning curve from typewriters to a computer keyboard. Then, came email. We were completely sold a bill of goods on how email was going to “save time in our day” and “make work easier” since you wouldn’t have to run down the hall to find your colleagues, you could just send them an email!

The Apple 2E. Do you remember Oregon Trail?

When I think about it, that was the first time when I became aware that technology, with all the good it could do, had a dark side. The major time-suck that email became almost immediately, with instant answers required, tied us all to our computers. Instead of face-to-face communication, suddenly we never left our rooms. As time has gone on, things have shifted away from email, with texting replacing those urgent items that need to be dealt with right now. We find ourselves tethered to our phones, instead. At least they’re portable!

The dark side of the internet in recent years has threatened to overwhelm the positive. The Dark Web, Russian trolls, hate groups, fake news, all of these things unsteady us and alter our understanding of truth. We find ourselves polarized, angry, with no reason to come together. I have to take frequent Facebook breaks in order to be able to go back on and deal with my professional pages.

It’s been a relief in the last few weeks to see the positive side of the internet reemerging. As we begin to pull together as a country and the world, suddenly the internet is becoming that lifeline we need to keep us out of total isolation. We’re waking up again to the good it can do. In the last week I have watched some of the best concerts, performances, and “sing-a-longs” I’ve ever attended. The generosity of donations to artists, restaurant owners and those in need is overwhelming. The amount of hearts floating by on that Facebook screen have never been bigger. Community groups have ceased most of their snarking and are working together. I am teaching over Zoom and having coffee with friends over Zoom and singing (more or less) over Zoom. It’s not the same as being in the room with people you love, but it’s contact. Face-to-face contact, if not physical contact.

During this time of crisis, I am grateful for the socialization the internet provides. I hope you’ll join me in “accentuating the positive” for a little while and restoring balance to this important aspect of our lives. We have a choice to change our relationship to the internet and ultimately to each other – what will you choose?

Exercise to try:
Choose your Response – Every time we experience a negative stimulus (from the internet, from our family members) we automatically have a reaction. This could be our body physically startling, or the flight or fight reaction that causes our hearts to race and feelings of fear and anger to arise. An unconscious physical reaction, however, is not a response. How we choose to respond in those situations is entirely up to us.

Next time you read an inflammatory post on the internet, pause. Now pay attention – how do you feel? What’s that like? What would your habitual response be right now to reading something like this? Wait a moment and see the choices of how to respond arise in your mind.

Looking over those potential responses, which one feels good right now? Which one might move the conversation and the world positively forward? How will you choose to respond today?

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Diving for Light, Day 2 - Morning Rhythms

3/23/2020

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“Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings while the dawn is still dark.”
-Rabindranath Tagore, Fireflies

I’ve never been a morning person. It was sheer agony during my 25 years of classroom teaching to get myself up at 6:15 and into school by 7:30 am. My preferred internal wakeup time without an alarm is somewhere around 8:30 am. I find myself guided by the sunrise bringing light into my bedroom, and sunrise is late here in my time zone.

Habits, though, are funny things. For the last six months of 2019, I woke up in the dark in order to participate in a group meditation with members of my Chakra Class each day. I chose to continue getting up around 7:15 am after the New Year in order to write my blog posts in the “Processing” series during quiet time. And now, I wake up at 7:15 every day without an alarm.
A consistent behavior I never expected!

The view from my desk, where I write and meditate.

One recent morning as I laid in bed, trying not to wake my spouse, I found I was missing my morning meditation and writing. To my delight, when stay-home orders began last week, our Chakra alumni decided to get back into group meditation as a way to stay connected. We learned during our class how in sync we are in those moments of meditation. We’ve never valued sensing each other more now that we can’t get together in person. Through meditation, I’ve been strongly called to start writing again.

These days I wake up around 7:15, go into my office, light a candle, do my meditation. Then I go to the kitchen and make a cup of coffee and some breakfast and start writing. I am feeling a serious need for some daily structure, and this is providing it. Otherwise I’d probably still be in my PJs at 4 pm, binge watching “This is Us.” Getting my day started this way centers and grounds me for whatever lies ahead, even if I decide to go back to bed to escape the news.

Once the pollen dies down and I de-yellow my screen porch, I’ll do my writing out there. I love hearing the dawn chorus of birdsong and it’s a treat to be up early enough to hear it. How long has it been since I’ve had time to listen, and not be rushing off to work? How about you? I read a great article yesterday about the dawn chorus, and about how each time of day a bird’s song changes just a bit, to signal various activity and territory marking. Here’s a link if you’d like to read it yourself. You have time.

Exercise to try:
Early Morning Awareness - Get up at a consistent, early time this week – maybe the time you’d ordinarily get up to go to work if you were commuting. Set an alarm, set an intention. What would you like that morning time for? Meditation? A walk outside? A cup of coffee by yourself? Journaling? Yoga? Whatever it is, set aside at least your drive time to do it. And then, while doing your quiet-time activity, pay attention as well to the sounds around you. Do you hear the dawn chorus, even through your windows? What else do you hear? What do you sense? What do you notice?

My husband, a wonderful photographer, got up early on a foggy morning and took this beautiful photo of the farm across the street. Image credit, Dave Marcus 2020

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Diving for Light, Day 1 - Sanity in the Soil

3/22/2020

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“It is a huge danger to pretend that awful things do not happen. But you need enough hope to keep going. I am trying to make hope. Flowers grow out of darkness.” - Corita Kent

There’s nothing unusual about finding me out in the garden at this time of year. Gardening has always been my greatest, best connection with the earth. I love the smell of the soil, the feeling of the loam on my hands, uprooting a wiggling earthworm, the birdsong – all of it. We have about an acre of garden, all told, throughout our property. The sight of flowers, the scent in the air, the earth under my feet are what keep me grounded.

What is unusual this year is all the time I have to do it. As much as I want, in fact. Ordinarily I’m cramming garden time in between work, driving in traffic, “important” errands, and whatever else we humans create for ourselves to be busy. Now, I have all the time in the world to be out there.

Yesterday that amount to two and a half hours. I wrestled with stubborn weeds joyfully, placing all my frustrations into each pull and digging out of each root. I looked at my newly weeded beds and rejoiced at rescuing my plants from the choking chickweed that was threatening to drown them. Afterward, I mulched. And then, I sat back and enjoyed the results of all that creative labor – something neat, something I could control, something beautiful.

My newly weeded and mulched bed in the foreground, my as-yet untouched veggie box behind it.

Now, I know full well that I can never control a garden. I can go out there and weed, and fertilize, and pick off bugs into soapy water, but ultimately, I’m not in charge. My actions change the garden for the better, but I can’t prevent voles, or potato beetles, or slugs. Nor, frankly, would I want to. They all have their place in this world. Gardens are a product of love, of hard work, and of more than a little luck. Mother Nature giveth, and she also taketh away.

In our outer world right now, Mother Nature is making a correction – a course shift, if you will. Gaia has pushed the Reset button. I know I have no control over what is happening, except in my own space. I’m choosing to stay home, to let Dave go out if we can’t find something online to order in. And even then, there’s no guarantees on what’s ahead. I like Corita Kent’s words (above) though, very much. Ultimately, it’s all about hope. Flowers are hope made manifest.

Even if all you have is a windowsill, I hope you can grow a little something. A little hope. A flower or two.

Exercise to try:
Finding ground - Take your shoes off and go barefoot in the dirt somewhere. Find your connection with the ground. Breathe deeply and quietly. Listen to the sounds of nature. Close your eyes.

Now, feel your roots deeply entering the ground. Imagine them going down, down into the earth. Feel the support of the earth returning to you through those roots. Breathe in support, breathe out negativity. Rest there a while. When you're ready...

Slowly open your eyes and return to the physical world. How are you feeling? What do you notice?

All photos taken by Robbin L Marcus, 2020.

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Diving for Light - A new blog series shedding light on a dark time

3/20/2020

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“I guess that’s why they call it the blues,
Time on my hands could be time spent with you…”
-Elton John

This song has always made me laugh, because in my normal life, having time on my hands with no plans would definitely NOT give me the blues. In fact, it would be heavenly. And yet, here I am today, plunged suddenly into a life with nothing but time on my hands. It’s quite a contrast, isn’t it?

My husband retired last June, and that is the only situation I can compare this feeling to – being almost rootless, weightless, floating in nothing but whatever I can create for myself to do. Or not. No schedule, no lunch dates, no errands to run, literally, nothing.

I suppose if I worked in an office that there would still be online business meetings, and phone calls, and to some extent business as-almost-usual. But as a self-employed teacher, nothing is going to happen if I don’t create it myself.

Just before the world stopped, I traveled out to a large music teacher’s conference in Portland Oregon. In a coffee line, I ran into someone I know from working together on the national board. Lucinda is a lovely person, and one who I don’t actually know very well, so I was quite pleasantly surprised when she told me that she’d read my entire “Processing” blog series and had really enjoyed it. She mentioned that it was a great escape from the world we’re living in, and how much she’d enjoyed the stories from my life I’d included each day.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that moment (processing, even) as I’ve put myself in self-imposed quarantine since coming back from the airport. (Quarantine is over on Sunday – not that there’s anywhere to go or anyone to see other than Dave.) As I’ve been outside gardening, I’ve been contemplating the idea of writing again, because perhaps some positive words would be welcomed out there right now. If you want to read my work, my promise to you is that it will be focused on different aspects of what we are all going through, but in a resolutely positive way. I’ll literally be Diving for Light in this dark time. Will it be easy? Not every day. But I will do my best to give us all a diversion from the fear and negativity that seem to be everywhere.

Come join me.

Robbin

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Robbin Marcus

A new 21 weekday blog series on Slow Forward - gentleness with myself - will begin on Monday, February 5, 2023
Sign up on the 2/2/2023 post to receive it daily in your email.

An occasional post from me, about stuff that interests me.

2023 blog series:
Slow Forward

2020 blog series:
1) Processing - Experience, Thought, Action
2) Diving for Light - Shedding light on a dark time

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Robbin Marcus

2019 blog series: Exploring the Power of Habit

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2019 blog series:
Exploring the Power of Habit