Isolation Consolation

Hey, wow! I’ve just spent 3/4 of 2020 in near total physical isolation and here it is, finally 2021. Is this the year I’ll finally be able to be in proximity to my children? I haven’t seen the eldest since November 2019 and the youngest since March 2020, right before lockdown. In this time, I’ve taken less than ten masked and socially-distanced walks with a neighbor, had three masked and socially-distanced outdoor visits (early on), and have exchanged brief pleasantries with grocery store clerks. I had to call a plumber once, but opened all the windows and made sure he was masked. I’ve also cancelled all in-person doctor appointments since my last dermatology, post-melanoma mole check.

A still from short video, Santaphilia.

If not for my seven cats, social media, and frequent phone calls and zooms with family and friends, I’d be a raving lunatic by now. Seriously. Though I’m an introvert and need plenty of alone time/down time after socializing, I am not made for this extreme deprivation, this near-total lack of actual human contact. How much longer will this last?

Answer: as long as it has to. I have no interest in catching (or transmitting) Covid-19.

The French novelist, Colette, once lived in a Paris apartment where someone had glued thousands of tiny diamond-shaped pieces of colored paper to all the walls. She wrote that she found it best to not think too much about the mental state of the person who had given way to such an obsession. Earlier this morning I found myself on the cold, vinyl-covered floor hand-tinting the recent concrete patch around the hearth, so that it would blend more with the creek stones and aged concrete. That’s not nearly on a par with tiny, diamond-shaped pieces of paper–but who knows what I’ll be painting, gluing, or cultivating as the long months of solitude roll by?

The fabulous Disasterina took herself out of a pandemic funk by creating small demon sculptures, telling stories about them, and planting them in her front yard to the consternation of the neighbors. She also launched a podcast, Tasty Ear Bits. (Go listen!) Meanwhile, her wife, Ave Rose, is launching a museum of mechanical marvels. A good friend of mine just confessed to cutting their own hair on New Year’s Eve while drunk. Another friend got a cat but he can’t think of a name yet. My publisher fled to Mexico. What’ll it be for me? Self-administered stick and poke tattoos? I’ve got some India ink around here somewhere. Images of Terminator II’s Sarah Conner, obsessively working out in captivity, flit through my mind. Nah… I’m too old and my range of motion is going downhill fast. Soft tissue injuries are not on my “2021 bingo card,” as people say.

I did do a thing or two last year. In the spring, I packed up almost all my books as I put my house up for sale. In August I had a buyer, packed some more, and almost moved to Eugene, Oregon–but the buyer pulled out at the last minute. (Argh!). Two days later, the California wildfires started in this and neighboring counties. In September I took the house off the market, anticipating a covid-ridden season, not wanting to endure strangers coughing on mother’s antique sofa. I continued to do long-distance counseling and hypnosis.

In October I finished my first three novels and sent them to the publisher. In November, NaNoWriMo was my favorite obsession for relieving my tension, both pre- and post-election. The first draft of book number four (The Perilous Past of the Guild of Ornamental Hermits) is now well underway.

In December I made a short, silly video about Santaphilia, which debuted on Disasterina and Ave Rose’s ‘Tis the Sleazon performance for TSTVHQ.com. Here’s a NSFW (not safe for work) video of the highlights of ‘Tis the Sleazon–and oh joy, they used my piece! I’m beyond honored!

Still from short video, Santaphilia.

More ways to avoid cutting pieces of paper into tiny diamond shapes: My co-host, M. Christian, and I switched our Love’s Outer Limits podcast over to anchor.fm. Here’s our episode interviewing Disasterina and Ave Rose. However, we kind of lost our podcast momentum after Samhain.

And even though I became immersed in the incredible Chinese love story, The Untamed–watching all fifty episodes five times!–I also found time to make new friends and pester the old. (Or was it the other way around?) I reunited with a friend from sixth grade, became closer with the friend who also shares my love of Dragula and The Untamed, and cultivated a special long-distance relationship. I also reviewed a book for a colleague and taught two 15-week, online hypnosis classes to students.

But it was so hard to blog. This was partially due to working more on the novels, and collecting all the information I could about the pandemic, but also from being a member of that select group of people deemed disposable–seniors and disabled people who might as well die from Covid-19 according to the U.S. government (and let’s not forget the BIPOC who are also–always–treated the same way). It’s extremely demoralizing, not to mention dangerous, to live in such a nation. So in spite of the accomplishments I list above, there were many long hours and days when I could only curl up in sadness and worry (and binge watch The Untamed).

As the November elections neared, I couldn’t stop doomscrolling. In the county around me, anti-maskers and Covid deniers made loud, stupid noises–intimidating some members of the county board of supervisors and emboldening a sheriff who refuses to cite businesses who don’t comply with public health regulations. During a rare errand, I had a maskless woman walk into my personal space (less than six feet of social distance) and harangue me for worrying about catching Covid. I could not make her shut up or go away. The…ignorance…and entitlement…is literally breathtaking.

As this blog is mostly about esoteric and spiritual stuff, I guess I’ll mention that the torpor and isolation of pandemic life also took a toll on my daily practices. I often found it hard to muster the necessary focus and interest. Easier to just watch Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan battle zombie “puppets” and evil masterminds while barely admitting their forbidden love. Looking back, I regret letting my daily practices wither–just when I needed them most–and am now trying to get back in the groove. And surprisingly, a new deity has appeared as a possible ally among the folks I already work with and I’m considering reconnecting with another spirit. I’m setting up altars again (after packing things away in anticipation of moving) and I’m dancing more. I badly need to recapture the range of motion, flexibility, and stamina I’ve lost during this long confinement.

I also want to mention the immense comfort and intellectual/spiritual insights offered by Daniel Foor via AncestralMedicine.com. His pandemic series (Bring Out Your Dead and Kindling the Need Fire) as well as his course in Animist Psychology have given me exactly what I needed during this time.

There are so many others–friends and influences–who have been a treasured part of my life during this period. I can’t mention them all. But here’s to my cats–Popoki, Niblet, Freya, Varda, Kia’i, Keola, and Arya–who are the best companions I could have in times both good and bad. It’s so wonderful to be part of a feline “pod.”

Finally, I’ll name my “most truest one,” the deity to whom I am oathed: Loki Laufeyjarson. He has “held the bowl” for me during the worst moments of 2020, and provides much needed inspiration, instruction, and humor as well. Hail!

☆☽☀️☾⭐︎

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