Reflections on the Pandemic

Zen Master Dae Kwang

Whenever I start considering the shut-down I always think of the zen phrase:  no one guarantees your life.  The virus doesn’t care what you think; it just does its job.  That’s just cause and effect. Old age, sickness and death were the Buddha’s teachers. As the sutra says, “Everything is always eating everything else.” So, sometimes we eat food at the Hollander and some times we are food. This situation brings up the great question, what are you really? ?

Chris Rundblad

Photo by John Brander

This is my block. I am asleep in my house. On this cold Covid tinged night, a sleepless neighbor takes a walk in the early, pre-dawn hour, his porch light left on. There is great peace and silence in the night, which he found and shared with me. Here is a poem that wanted to be a Pantoum, but didn’t quite work out that way. A pantoum is a poem with specific rules for repetition and rhyming. I am probably just too lazy to keep at it to fit the pattern. This is about when I had my son shave my head early last summer as the pandemic looked like it was going to require a long time retreat from social life.

Cutting Grass

I cut off all my hair.
The Buddhists call it Cutting Grass.
I cannot miss what isn’t there.
A Crowning Glory doesn’t last.

Without a frame, the face is bare,
the naked head’s protection thin.
Eyes hold a larger darker stare.
A bitter wind will chill the skin.

I now abandon lingering hope
that comb or brush or new shampoo
could change a bad hair day to good.
The message of the mirror is true.

I cut off all my hair.
I will not dwell on what’s not there.
The Buddhists call it Cutting Grass
to clearly see what always lasts.

Terry Kinzel

Weathering the Storm

As the lock down started, with miles of trails out my back door I was able to do daily “forest bathing” for my soul from the very start.

As a physician, my work was not shut down, so I had lots of daily human interaction. And although our numbers of cases and deaths are consistent with much of the country, the pandemic rolled into the Western UP slowly without a sudden peak so we generally have had enough staff and supplies to meet our needs. My personal experience primarily is that of having to have trimmed my beard to accommodate a seal for the N95 masks, being trussed up like a mummy in plastic and latex, and having nearly worn the skin off my hands from washing. Although, as a Geriatrician, I care for the most vulnerable group of patients, thus far only one has died – though there have been several near misses.

So, at the outset, I didn’t experience the stresses that many were feeling: I had my daily time in the woods and, although intense, I was able to continue work that was engaging, both socially and intellectually. But after several months I realized that I really missed my friends. A feeling that continues to grow.

Although a confirmed Luddite, Zoom has been a rope tossed to a drowning man. But still, I need to give and receive a hug.

Frank Pauc

The pandemic became a reality for our family in December of 2020. The Covid virus ripped through our house like a tornado. Of the five people currently living in our house, four of them spent time in the hospital because of Covid. Last month was full of uncertainty. It was scary at times. It was thirty-one consecutive days of “don’t know”.

Our practice, it seems to me, is often preparation for action in the world beyond the cushion. The sitting and the chanting help us to deal with each moment, as it comes and smacks us upside the head. I spent most of December doing. There wasn’t much thought involved, because there often wasn’t much time for thought. When Karin needed to go to the ER because she couldn’t get enough air, we went. When Hannah’s water broke seven weeks too soon, I took her to the hospital so she could give birth to Asher. Later, I took Hannah to the NICU at St. Joseph’s Hospital whenever she needed to be with her tiny son. I washed, cooked, and cleaned when other people couldn’t. I didn’t do any of these things because I am particularly virtuous. I did them because my fifteen years of practice with the sangha told me that these things needed to be done right now, and they needed to be done by me.

Speaking of the sangha, whatever I did was only possible because of the support and love my family received from the people at GLZC. I never did anything by myself. I was never alone.

Suzanne Stone

Photo by Suzanne Stone

Groundhog Day

This moment, and by moment I’m referring to the past year of living life cautiously, has clarified two realities for me: #1) We’re all stuck, and #2) Everything is perfect in this moment if we just wake up and embrace it. (And by “we”, I’m really referring to myself.) This is all easy enough to put into words and/or documents through photography, video, or other means…. More difficult to resign to the reality and be with it. I have moments where I want to get in the car and just drive until I relocate myself to a place never before seen or experienced, just to reassure myself that there is something other than the sameness of what seems like an exact replication of the previous day. What I’m realizing, however, is that less of my energy is spent going through the motions of running errands, commuting to work, only to then deal with the inherent anxieties they provoke. Moments of internal stillness have displaced the frantic need to get as much stuff done before the day is over, and it’s a state unlike anything I’ve ever experienced pre-pandemic. That it took a year to experience stillness….No, a lifetime is perfect.

Pete Neuwald

A year deferred?

What is this? . . . Don’t know.

When can we get back to “normal?”

What is this? . . . Don’t know.

2020 was a year of cancellations, postponements, and separation. To say our lives have been disrupted would be quite the understatement. It looks like this will continue for some time as we move through 2021. Like everyone else, I am missing in-person connections with my family, friends, and communities. A year of cancelled plans. Birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, weddings, holiday gatherings, family visits to New York, trips, in-person Zen practice – all cancelled.

What is this? . . . Don’t know.

Throughout the past year, I have found myself coming back to asking myself, “Why am I doing what I am doing?” This “doing” encompasses thoughts, words, and actions. “Why am I thinking what I am thinking?” “Why am I saying what I am saying?” “Why am I acting what I am acting?” As difficult as it has been sometimes, asking myself this question leads me to “only help,” in whatever ways I can, cultivating kindness, compassion, and Great Love. Actually, I find this helpful no matter which year it is, and whatever the situation may be. 2020 is now done. We have only this moment – oops, that’s gone too!

What is this? . . . Don’t know.

Susi Childress

Bad Situation, Good Situation, U.S. Covid Edition

Bad Situation:  Covid-19 arrives in the United States, and we go on lockdown.

Good Situation: Families spend more time together.

Bad Situation:  People are laid off work and find it difficult to make ends meet.

Good Situation:  The spread of the virus is minimal due to the lockdown.

Bad Situation:  Everyday life is disrupted.

Good Situation:  People start finding creative ways to help out or entertain others.

Bad Situation:  People are becoming worried, restless, angry, and depressed.

Good Situation:  With the arrival of warm weather, people can go outdoors.

Bad Situation: Politicians, doctors, health professionals, and citizens disagree.

Good Situation:  Some businesses are able to reopen with restrictions.

Bad Situation:  Many people are still out of work, and businesses are closing.

Good Situation:  Some businesses are booming as people adjust to the pandemic.

Bad Situation:  As the seasons change again, some are reluctant to follow restrictions.

Good Situation:  Progress has been made on testing, PPE, and vaccine development.

Bad Situation:  Ignoring health guidelines, people travel and gather for holidays.

Good Situation:  Those who find ways to gather with family are happy to connect.

Bad Situation: Cases spike and climb to their highest levels of the pandemic.

Good Situation: Vaccine approval gives us hope.

Bad Situation:  Lack of supply and poor planning lead to slow vaccination rates.

Good Situation:  Infection rates begin to fall.

Bad Situation:  Large numbers of people are refusing the vaccine.

Good Situation:  Less people wanting the vaccine makes it easier for others to obtain it.

     So this is where we are at. Obviously there are some significant “bad situations” I did not mention (people dying and exhaustion of front line workers, to name two). But this was never meant to be a comprehensive list.  If we keep following the situation through the lens of “good” and “bad”, we will be on quite a roller coaster ride. “Oh, this is good!”  “Oh, this is bad!” “But this is good!” “But this is bad!” I catch myself doing this. It’s a habit I have developed over my lifetime. But Zen teaches us not to live in the world of opposites. This only causes suffering, as we are constantly trying to avoid what is “bad” and grasp and hold onto what is “good”. If we put it all down, only go straight, don’t know, and help when the opportunity appears, perhaps we can all get through this difficult time with our sanity intact. So how do we do this? Practice, practice, practice. Watch your mind. Ask yourself, “What is this?” “How can I help?” And only go straight, don’t know.

Gretchen Neuwald

Photo by Pete Neuwald

Getting Lost January 6

grey shroud hugs the lake
Pete is asleep
I slip downstairs
make coffee
flick on the news

4000 more Covid deaths
officer not charged in Jacob Blake shooting
Hong Kong arrests 53 democracy advocates
Trump still says he won
Warnock beat Loeffler in Georgia

at the nature center
we tramp through soft snow
inspect the dots and dibs
left behind by rabbits and deer
stare up at towering oaks
do you hear that?

loud voices rise behind us
hurry, lets get away from them!
turn here—is this really a trail?
are they still behind us?
boots kicking up snow
jacket sleeves swishing
I think we lost them!
where are we?

we follow fresh ski tracks
along a snowy ridge
weaving between trees
we climb over fallen trunks
brush against brambles
releasing cascades of white powder
where are we?

wait, down there, the creek
we scuttle down the slope
snatching at trees and rocks
to slow our descent 
we follow the black water
as it winds around
each turn
takes our breath away
where are we?

the creek, a dark mirror
limbs laden with snow
hooded stones
when black comes, black
when white comes, white

we are lost
completely lost
we smile at our good fortune

out in a clearing
snow-shoed hikers
point the way back
we pass three women
do you drive a Hyundai?
we found car keys in the snow
set them on the fence post by the waterfall

Heading back
we ask those we pass
have you lost your keys?
in the parking lot
we search for a Hyundai
not there

is that your car? a young woman asks,
pointing to the SUV next to ours
its window smashed
oh no! not ours!
I called the police, she says
just waiting until they come
how kind, we say
do you want us to wait with you?
no need, they should be here soon

the drive back
I’m hungry, says Pete
me too, I say
Kind bars in the glove compartment?
no such luck
I switch on NPR 
Following the Trump rally protestors have stormed the Capitol.
The Capitol at this moment appears to be occupied

every day is January 6
only go straight
when lost
get completely lost
find your true home
help all beings