I just want a clean kitchen, a full pantry, that one spatula I love to never wear out. I want my partner safe and healthy, my family employed and fed. I just want the impossible.

well all right, i'm fraying a bit at the edges. this morning rae said "i'm sure if we were really stuck, my parents would rescue us" and i said "but what if we have to rescue them?"
this is me with every structure that should feel supportive: it will break, and we will have to fix it; it will stop, and we will be without; the technology will break, the check will never come, the moon will never rise, we will live in this day forever.
there is nothing to do now but wait. we will schedule our conference calls and our video chats and write our emails and our memos and what if in a few months every business we try to prop up is shut down any way?
there is nothing to do now but wait. and get high, and pet the dog, and wait.

in times like these we all need to lean on the deep sustaining of a world that stretches beyond ourselves.
some people will look up to the sky, and pull their faith down from inside the stars.
some people will listen to the trees, put their faces to the wind, and sink roots into the earth that is our home.
some people will hold the hands of others, cradle the heartbeats of humans they love, and build strength in togetherness and community.
so maybe you will die bleeding, coughing, choking, in pain. maybe you will die quietly, alone. maybe the end of your life will be part of a global catastrophe. maybe the end of your life will approach you well after this moment has passed.
there is something in these moments where NOW feels so serious that we are forced to look forward, forced to look outward.