Keeping Quiet, by Pablo Neruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
We are heading into our fifth week of our quarantine (while California's Governor Gavin Newsom put the shelter-in-place order on March 19th, we were staying close to home a week or before that). Like some women say about the last month of pregnancy (that it feels like a year!), the last six weeks have felt like an eternity, as though time has almost stopped altogether. The above poem is by the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda and keeps coming up for me in these times; I had actually never even heard about this man until K and I took a city tour in Santiago in February (on our kid-free trip in February, which seems like a lifetime ago).
The increased at-home time has definitely been a big adjustment, but I think the initial shock of the change was the hardest for me and the family has adapted well as time has passed. Our days and pace have definitely changed (for the better, I think!). While this time (really just weekends for us) has confirmed that I am not cut out to be a stay-at-home parent ever, we have adjusted to spending lots of time at home with littles. The boys are playing actually quite a lot together (sometimes well, sometimes with screaming), as little Niall gets more talkative and interactive, which is really sweet to see. Yesterday, I heard from our bedroom "No! That's dangerous, Iver!" There is lots of art. Constant snacks. Living room forts. Climbing and chasing. Bubbles. Bike rides. Reading. Magnet tiles and building. Potty training is going well (rare and only pee accidents). Kelvin and I have suggested getting outside for a hike or something in open air a few times, and Iver has declined, perfectly content to stay nearby at home ("I like this Coronavirus time," he said at one point!).
I have had a few slow clinic days with less than an entirely full schedule, which has afforded me more time for thoughtful, rather than rushed, patient care and has led to me feeling far less harried and burned out (even enjoying what I do, at times!) doing family medicine. I feel like not seeing as many people in person has really made the infrequent "in-person" visits more rewarding (even when we're wearing full-on face masks and face shields, which really terrifies the young children and adds a layer of distance with those we do touch). I've been able to actually do some dedicated COVID-19 medical reading while on the job rather than always on the fly on devices at home, trying to stay up on current epidemiological trends, public health reporting data, and national medical guidelines, particularly in the world of obstetrics (as well as reading the hundreds of e-mails per day due to COVID stuff).
I think that for us people who tend to try to be "productive," this pandemic has been a pretty big eye-opener. I've been majorly guilty in my lifetime of not really feeling entitled to "relax," and multitasking to the point of stressing myself out, even trying to get work done at home while kids are running around and trying to tick off items on a never-ending to-do list. It's been incredibly refreshing to have been forced to SLOW DOWN and just "be still." I now never plan to get anything of substance done during the weekends, unless the kids are asleep. I am not getting exhausted by constant task-switching which has real psychological detriments, as I feel in some ways that time has stopped and everybody is on "pause." I am doing my work in dedicated bursts and time during a workday, and feel much more able to unplug from my computer/phone and pass the evenings quietly and restfully rather than task-tackling (some things are just not able to be accomplished right now anyway due to closures!). I'm contemplating a "technology sabbath" of sorts. There are fewer meetings (at least in-person ones; Zoom still runs our lives), no activities to plan to go to or to which to shuttle kids, and nothing that we feel we are "missing out on." It's really nice to just be at home and live.
Kelvin in Zoom attire, doing residency interviews from home
Check out the sweats, and the tiny kids' heads on the camera screen...
I have been trying to escape from the constant barrage of e-mails, news, and social media to consume some quality (or at least fun) books and entertainment. I appreciate many genres of books, but as I tend to read and watch books and movies with heavier content, I welcome any suggestions on lighter, fun things you have read or watched recently. While the libraries are closed and I'm not a book-buyer in general, I've been able to download e-books for Kindle from the library system (although at times, the selection isn't great with many holds on popular books). Three books I read this month were Herman Koch's The Dinner, (a bit of a dark, suspenseful fictional read) Maria Semple's Today will be Different (pure hilarity. One of her other books, Where'd you go, Bernadette, which I read a few years ago, was also fun and has been made into a movie), and Kate Bowler's Everything Happens for a Reason, the memoir of a Christian professor (and new mother) battling stage IV colon cancer, and, while not really light, it was material which I'm emotionally able to handle now and which was really touching. Next up is Nicole Chung's All You Can Ever Know, a non-fiction book about a Korean adoptee and her re-connection with her birth family. On a recommendation of a friend from work, I started watching an Australian comedy-drama series on Netflix called Offspring (which follows a fairly awkward but endearing OB-GYN and her romantic and family relationships), and it's highly amusing (I binge-watched season two in the evenings last weekend).
I have been thinking about purchasing a piano for a while now, ever since I re-connected with my parents' piano when at their house around Christmas. While some people are currently contemplating "quarantine pets," I've been contemplating the quarantine keyboard! I'm hopeful that one or both of my children will be interested in taking lessons in the future (I started at age 6, I believe), although obviously, hiring a teacher at this point is not an option. I think that one of the newer weighted-key digital pianos may be the way to go for now (although I'd prefer an acoustic upright), and they're available online. However, I'd really like to support a local business if possible (but all are presently closed), so the piano search is on pause for now but a future dream of mine...
The uncertainty of tomorrow is hard to swallow for the planners in this household (with thoughts to decrease need to use my google calendar/tech, I actually bought a weekly paper planner for 2020 in January. It wasn't the best-planned move, it turns out!). But in some ways, because we really can't plan anything, we have to just...pause. I am not sure if/when we will ever get to travel or go on vacation again. Maybe it's good to take a break (the environmentalist in me was feeling a bit guilty for the earth due to all of the air travel we've enjoyed in the past several years). We don't have any future big trips planned, and we can't fathom how one could anticipate what the country and world will look like in three months, six months, or a year from now.
With schools closed, businesses closed, and our lives different (and slower in many ways), I'm trying to re-set, just live in the moment, and breathe (like mother earth is doing, it seems!). Pausing can be a really positive thing! Let's all do more "keeping quiet." Our souls need it!
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