Resilience in the time of Corona Virus
During this time of social distancing there is nothing better than a late night stroll in spring-time Seattle. My outlet for the cornucopia of feelings and thoughts surrounding the current crisis is a moonlit escape into the grid of neighborhood streets. Where by day wings feel clipped — I was supposed to spend Easter this year at Iguazu Falls in Brazil — at night I can still fly in my own way up and down the avenues of Capitol Hill. Social distance is effortless at this time of night and I feel the weight disappear as I pass by an old growth cedar tree wedged tightly between the curb and sidewalk. I slip my fingers between the course, flaking bark and stare up through the heart of the tree, smelling the strong fir scent mixed with the dew-soaked earth beneath my feet.
The full moon creates a mystical playground and I feel encouraged to join. A bright, yet gentle glow catches the tops of the bunches of ripe cherry blossoms — revealing the delicate abundance and fluffy textures in a two-tone kind of way. The smell of fresh night air mixed with cut grass and flavors of pollen inspires more walking, even up the steeper hills and I feel the pent-up pressures of daily isolation begin to release.
About ten minutes into the walk, movement in the otherwise still scene catches my eye. Night vision already adjusted, sights quickly lock on one of the hundreds of wild bunnies that run free in this part of town. He looks at me and I look at him — almost challenging one another to move first. He is nervous but hangs out for about a minute before hopping across the street to a more comfortable distance, looking back. A rush of joy hits me and a grin dances across my face.
This is not an unusual event, and I meet ten more bunnies along my evening route. Most run away quickly before I have time to stop and take in the moment. Several take pause and look at me, allowing a simple, if only fleeting, connection. Such perfect medicine.
The Easter Bunny can be seen as a superficial commercial invention, but nightly walks like this one change my impression of the meaning of a Peter Cottontail in Spring. Wild rabbits like these reproduce like crazy, exuding energy of abundance, and seem to persevere when the rest of the world is sleeping. They are resilient if only out of a nervous survival instinct.
Speaking of resilience, signs are all around us if we take the time to look — an important theme on this sacred holiday weekend. In addition to the religious parallels, what immediately comes to my mind is the Tree of Life on the Washington Coast near the Kalaloch Lodge in the Olympic National Park. I was there about a month ago, before lockdown — a time that already seems like years ago. This ancient sitka spruce tree must’ve established herself back when the steep bank leading to the wide sandy beach was solidly intact. Over time, a creek made way underneath the tangled web of roots and erosion took hold. Today she is straddling this cavern-like creek bed — roots clinging to either side of the widening opening like eagle talons hanging on for dear life. On many accounts she should be long gone, blown over by one of many angry coastal storms or deprived of the nutrients soil provides, but life continues on for this coastal icon.
The Tree of Life and bunnies hopping along 19th Ave are important reminders that — if we’re open to travel to the magical world of nature — there are signs and little joys available to let us know we can employ resilience to get through these troubling times.
Outside your bedroom window or walking the streets of your neighborhood (safely), keep traveling — and let the the joys of nature lift you away!
Happy Easter, Passover and Spring!
Matthew
