The only gentle moments are the early mornings, and shortly I'll get dressed and go outside and do some mild gardening. I want to pull out the bolted cilantro, harvest the rest of the escarole, sow a few new rows of this and that. This time of year the succession crops grow so quickly: seeds seem to sprout within hours.
Last night I made macaroni salad with a half-pound of cavatappi pasta, a can of tuna, some chopped fennel seedlings, a red onion, a couple of cucumbers, homemade mayonnaise, and a fistful of cilantro and Thai basil. Today I'll make rice and escarole soup, pureed and chilled and floating with cucumbers, dill, and lemon.
Maudelle left on their travels yesterday mid-morning, and I spent much of the rest of the day loafing, though I did wash bedding and make a meal. T went off to the photo co-op for a few hours to scan some photo negatives, which meant that I was completely alone (when awake) for the first time in more than a week. The solitude was restorative. Today I feel much more energetic . . . ready to walk and talk and do my jobs, though I still don't want to attempt to teach anybody how to do anything.
For several weeks now I've completely halted my news-scrolling. Of course the news leaks in anyway, but I am not perseverating, I am not constantly checking in, I am not listening to pundits rehash and speculate and terrify. Thank goodness I made that move. I don't know how I'd be managing otherwise. What I'm realizing is that knowing enough is a far different thing from over-saturation. It is the over-saturation that creates the spiraling anxiety. And that sort of anxiety is destructive, paralyzing, useless.
How to stay sane in America, if you're Dawn: (1) Break your caffeine dependency. (2) Don't watch/read/scroll the news more than once a day, and even then be quick about it. (3) Garden and cook and read and write poems and canoodle with your boyfriend. (4) Listen to baseball on the radio. (5) Engage your body in the world. (6) Sleep.
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