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I walked my dog home from my mother’s place the other night. It had just turned dark here in Santa Monica, about 9 pm. I saw people dining in restaurants for the first time in a few months. I felt the hum of life returning to the street. First, the lockdown, then the riots, had brought the silence of fearful residents and deserted streets. But now boarded windows were opening, and I actually passed a few people on the sidewalk. Perhaps it was this sliver of normalcy that made me realize how much of life I’ve missed. And with that glimpse, for the first time since the pandemic hit, I realized how sad I was.
I know the more popular articles in most publications, are all about how NOT to be sad. How mindfulness will heal our blues. How to turn stress into positivity. How yoga, or meditation, or communication will soothe our soul. This is not one of those.
It feels like the world has lost its footing. I’m not talking about just the virus. I’m talking about my country. How did we end up a country so utterly at war with itself? I’m not saying we shouldn’t be, given the state we are in, we should, and need, to…
