I vacillate all day, every day, between wanting to connect and wanting to go inward and quietly face my hopes and fears. But, mostly, the single thing that has brought huge comfort, is hearing how others are handling this time of isolation.
I belong to a women’s study group in Northern California. Since our move here three years ago, this group of a dozen women is the group I most miss. Smart, spiritual and interesting, I’ve greatly longed for their company. Now, thanks to the miracles of electronic communication, we’re doing Zoom meetings. Finally, I can join them.
Last week, we did a check-in. There are various ways of viewing other people on Zoom. I learned to use “gallery setting”, so that I can see nine faces at once. Then, you can scroll down or across and, if necessary, see the remaining attendees. I looked lovingly at the other women’s faces … so happy to see every one. Some, who had not yet visited us here in the Santa Ynez Valley, exclaimed at my pretty kitchen. So, I walked my laptop out to the back porch and “showed” everyone our beautiful view of the mountains and vineyards behind our house. Others clamored for a full house tour.
Mindful that the bed might not be made, I deferred. But, each of us took a turn and shared what we’re doing and what we’re concerned about. Children and grandchildren, near and far, came up for us all. “Where are they?” or “Are they safe?” Surprising how many of our kids work in jobs that require them to be in harm’s way: medical, veterinary, food service, airlines. Of course, we are the lucky ones: almost all had kids who still had jobs — either working from home or not.
We also checked in about what everyone is doing with their time. Of course Netflix and book recommendations flew back and forth. But we also shared online yoga classes, the joy of long walks, how much comfort pets are giving.
One of our members, unfortunately, is battling a virulent cancer. And she lives alone. I was shocked when I saw her head wrapped in a scarf … her hair gone from chemotherapy. I hadn’t seen her since her diagnosis. She asked us what we thought of her taking a trip to the beach … she so wanted to see the ocean. There’s a physician in our group. She advised against it. Others said, go … just stay away from people. Finally, we reached consensus: yes, she should go to the beach and look at the ocean — but don’t get out of the car.
I have another group of friends who live more locally in Santa Barbara. We’ve also been sharing what we are doing with our daily lives as we live in isolation with or without family members. Not surprisingly, the subject of self-care and maintenance of our no-longer young bodies came up. One of the first things mentioned was bras. (I hope I do not lose male readers here … but this is a reality of our current life … so buck-up.) Almost each and every one of this group stated that they have foregone bras. Ah, the relief. Men, you have no idea!
It is the single most positive side-effect of this time we are in. In addition to going braless, the subject of hair, nails, make-up and clothes came up. Most commented that they have almost no laundry as they are re-wearing the same clothes until this absolutely becomes unacceptable. Me, I’m the same. I leave the outfit in the closet on a hook and put it on the next day.
Also, like many women, I’m addicted to regular manicures and pedicures. No more. Yesterday I Googled how to remove a dip powder manicure. It lasts for four to six weeks. But without a nail professional, how to remove? Of course, there was a YouTube video. Now, all I need is some acetone.
And, my hair. Based on the story I told earlier about my friend going through chemotherapy, I do feel lucky that I have any hair at all. But, folks, my reddish brunette color is not one found in nature. And, I may have actually solved my dilemma of when to let myself go gray. It may be now and I am not pleased about it. My Santa Barbara friends decided we should give our group a name. We came up with the "Feral Women"; we have grown wild and natural.
But in these moments of anxiety about the future, I am also turning inward and to spiritual sources. Even though it is not my own religion, I am listening to the sermons, on Facebook, of Reverend Randall Day from Saint Mark’s of the Valley. I am finding Jewish sabbath services to hear from synagogues across America, and I am listening to the greatest balm of all: music. Yo Yo Ma, Lin-Manuel Miranda, The Berlin Philharmonic, the New York Metropolitan Opera, all are broadcasting free concerts.
I know each of you are finding your own ways to stay calm, fill your stomachs and reach out. Share these, if you like. But don’t look at me, I’m remaining a Feral Woman for the duration.