Isn’t it ironic, that it takes tragedy, horrific global events, and forced isolation to make us understand how much closer we are and should be with each other. Day 4 of self quarantine in what is reported to be a deeply unpredictable sweeping Pandemic, and I have sought and received more contact, communication and connection with the people that are far away; more than any other time in the seven years I’ve lived in New York. Suddenly we’ve been given the gift of time.
We have no where to go but be at home. Some are alone, some with their families, forced to spend more time together in a week than we’ve spent in months and how delicate, beautiful and strange that balance is. I’ve read more than I’ve done in years, I’ve cooked more beautiful, meals than I’ve prepared in a long time, I’ve dedicated to sharing my Yoga and strength training practice more often than any other time simply because we all crave connection, reciprocity and a deep wanting to feel like we’re not alone in this.
Technology however faceless has become a useful tool to bring us together when we simply cannot. Social distancing, despite its ominous tone, has given me the chance to reflect on who I truly care to spend time with and how we all take that for granted. All of a sudden we can’t go outside and all we want is to do just that. All of a sudden we have all the time in the world to write, meditate, sit in silence, and figure out the next step without the cacophony of constant planning.
Finding connection through distance is the secret weapon we’ve been gifted in these trying times. I for one am scared much like the rest of us. These are not normal circumstances we find ourselves in. Yet ( always a yet) here we are. Connecting, through forced distance and finding the beauty in taking one day at a time. Stay safe out there and here’s a quote from my new favorite read
Andre Aciman’s new novel : Find Me
“None of us may want to claim to live life in two parallel lanes but all have many lives, one tucked beneath or right alongside the other. Some lives wait their turn because they haven’t been lived at all, while others die before they’ve lived out their time, and some are waiting to be relived because they haven’t been lived enough.”
Till tomorrow Day 17 and 18 with a twist. Drink up it’s just another day.
Eleana Kouneli 
Truth!
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Thinking that e are all fortunate in that given some free time to occupy we already have a basket list. U like a bucket list this is the basket of projects, and half finished chores we’ve put on hold until we find just the right moment to take them up. Maybe it’s cleaning the floor, or finishing a letter, or filing or picking all the shreds of ideas and dreams that lurk on scraps of paper tucked in the pockets of old jeans, old lives, along with a sets of paint chips and unmatched coffee mugs that make up a midden of memories and scraps of personal history. Your lovely honesty inspires.
Some lost gems appear among all the beach glass, lint, and the memories of pets, playmates and parents. And that moment of readiness for sharing arrives when the tales of salvio and sylvestrio huddling around the campfire repeat themselves. And I can almost conjure up my grandfather’s voice. ‘It was a dark and stormy night. Three brigands sat around a campfire.
Once I thought the US was slightly more sane and boring than Greece. Hah! We are catching up here in blahland. And when up is down we all don’t know how that’s going to sort out.
Please let me know your live yoga times. I’d like to watch…..!
Mamax
Sent from my iPad
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It’s time for story telling and story sharing
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