April 25th, 2020 - Dispatches from the Pandemic. Ravens in the Gravy Boat. Arundhati Roy "Pandemic as Portal.".

"Whatever it is, coronavirus has made the mighty kneel and brought the world to a halt like nothing else could. Our minds are still racing back and forth, longing for a return to 'normality,' trying to stitch our future to our past and refusing to acknowledge the rupture. But the rupture exists. And in the midst of this terrible despair, it offers us a chance to rethink the doomsday machine we have built for ourselves. Nothing could be worse than a return to normality.

"Historically, pandemics have forced humans to break with the past and imagine their world anew. This one is no different. It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next. We can choose to walk through it, dragging the carcasses of our prejudice and hatred, our avarice, our data banks and dead ideas, our dead rivers and smoky skies behind us. Or we can walk through lightly, with little luggage, ready to imagine another world. And ready to fight for it."
 

~ Arundhati Roy  author of The God of Small Things and activist

From her essay "The Pandemic is a Portal" published in the Financial Times.

Sharing this quote from the WORK Newsletter by Natasha Juliana.  These are the final paragraphs of a powerful essay that provides a close look at the political and social machinations in India over the coronavirus pandemic. I find disturbing echos of this behavior here in our country.  I worry about our two democracies, struggling with the divisive actions of authoritarian-style heads of state, blaming others and ignoring the realities of the effect of the pandemic on their peoples, seeking to stay in power. 

Roy's final paragraphs offer a road map -- and a call to action. 

But oh my gosh, how I miss the gang down at   WORK Petaluma.  We would be having some discussions now, right?  Scrolling around the website, looking at the pictures posted of the folks in the office in a Time Way Before, I wonder what the re-grouping will be like, when we get the chance to group up again. Hope it's soon -- but not too soon. I don't want to risk another round of this disease by gathering too carelessly and quickly.


Like Natasha says in her newsletter,  I find that there are times when the only thing I want to do is dig deep into the earth, sit under our backyard tree with the wind and birdcalls around me. Watch the ravens dunk old bread crusts into the birdbath, like an oversized gravy boat. Ponder where they find those bread crusts. There is something here I don't want to miss, something I want to drink deep of, before we are ushered over the rupture, out of this portal, through the gates into an adjusted world.