WE’RE ALL MAD HERE

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.

“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here.

(Alice in Wonderland)

If Lewis Carroll were alive and residing in Seattle today, he would find the perfect atmosphere for writing Alice in Wonderland:  anxiety circles around where we are going and how we will get there, wherever there is.

 “My dear, here we must run as fast as we can, just to stay in place. And if you wish to go anywhere you must run twice as fast as that.” (Red Queen: Through the Looking Class.)

 First, there is the upcoming Washington State Democratic primary on Tuesday, although our ballots arrived in the mail almost two weeks ago. In a city that is as Blue as any city can be, this primary looms as an important destination.  Voting early left people struggling to discern, among six contenders, which best fit the ideal liberal candidate to beat Donald Trump in November.  Those who suspected on March 7^th there might be fewer candidates from which to select, held their ballots close to the chest until the race fell to two:  Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders.  These voters are basking in the wisdom of their patience.  The early voters feel the disappointment of wasting their vote, like eating dessert too soon, while still being passionate about the entree.

Then the Corona Virus.  Seattle prides itself for so much: the home of Microsoft and Amazon, stunning national parks, an abundance of green landscapes resulting from weeks of rain.  This past week, the Vice President described Seattle as the tip of the spear in the Corona Virus, for having more cases and, sadly, more deaths, than any other city in the country.  Seattleites are used to dealing with affluence, rapid growth and tourists.  They are not accustomed to germs. The University of Washington has suspended live classes for the next few weeks, and called home all students from their studies abroad. So too have other schools, public and private, are closing for at least two weeks.  From our cottage two hours west of my Seattle church, I attended first-time online church services this morning.  Prayer is necessary now, but not in a common location where many church members are over sixty-years-old, the population vulnerable to the Corona Virus.

Yesterday on NPR, the talk-show host interviewed a local mental health professional about the anxiety shrouding our Seattle citizens.  What can we do to lessen that anxiety? “For one thing,”  the therapist said, “ we can all stop listening so often to the media.”  Yes, that is all well and good, but one is also advised to stay tuned for alerts and closures.  Yep, straight out of Alice in Wonderland.  But the therapist had a useful antidote to anxiety:  calm, single-focused meditation.  “ Take time to notice something slow-moving such as a fallen leaf drifting downstream.”  With her advice in mind, I focused here on our wooded property by Quilcene bay.  Join me in looking closely at moss:

     Lying thick upon a fallen log

its green promise of alive

soft as the morning fog

that moistens, that invites

you to touch what is close

was always there inching along

while you were running through the woods.

Today’s close-up is moss

beside unfolding ferns,

a talisman to tuck

in your breast pocket

while the sun scorches

the fog away

opening up another day.