Indoor dining, what is that?

Two days ago, I had the occasion to step into a local restaurant where they had just opened it up for indoor dining two weeks ago. What I thought would be a 5-minute coffee run turned into a two-hour solo excursion where I gleefully enjoyed the freedom of indoor dining (I haven't enjoyed indoor dining since October 2020), the sparse number of customers due to the quarantine that has been in place since the Coronovirus epidemic began about a year ago in March 2020 and an indoor fireplace surrounded by blue, indigo and onyx-hued rocks that created a very aesthetically-pleasing feeling and ambiance. It had been lit to perhaps ward off the coldness of the snowstorm which hit the Chicago area two weeks ago (See previous poem on "Winter's Curtain").

Despite the layers of bullshit that I have been struggling with in the past two months, I instantly reverted to a child-like version of myself where I enjoyed the backdrop of '80s songs which were playing over the speakers and curled myself up into a ball in front of the fireplace and sipped the caramel latte replete with whip cream with my right hand.

Yes, I had been feeling a bit awful about the incidents of the two guys at my alma mater taking advantage of and violating me without my consent (see previous essay on "Patriarchy found me"), but allowed myself and my thoughts to wander to 2020 when things seemed more innocent and I was in an oblivious bliss about what the epidemic-ridden days and the future -- before the realization of these two guys violating me -- would hold. But I put all these thoughts on hold albeit momentarily and started going through the choreography my ballet dancer teacher had taught me in a previous dance class two weeks ago and started composing poems in my head.

Coincidentally, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, a renowned bohemian poet and founder of the CityLights Bookstore - a famous landmark in San Francisco - passed away on this same day at the age of 100. He wrote " Every great poem fulfills a longing and puts life back together" Even though I mourn the loss of this great poet and iconoclast, his quote reminds me that it is possible to able to make something beautiful out of the mess of our lives, especially in the midst of an epidemic or incidents of sexual assault, and to arise from it and to make meaning out of it. It is not a merely possibility - it is an imperative - because right now, many people's lives are left in piece perhaps in this crazy and chaotic world and poetry enables me - and us, collectively - to "put life back together." Ah..the power of words...

Furthermore, I was listening to a Stanford lecture today about coping with the Coronovirus epidemic -- with the perhaps somewhat sad reminder about the one-year anniversary of the epidemic-related quarantines - and Professor Dan Siegal stated, "the power of awareness changes our well-being." The lecture kindly reminded me that instead of being Mind-full, we can be more mindful and conscious of our surroundings and thereby open ourselves up to the revelatory moments of joy and surprises revealed through our lives and existence so that the chaos in our surroundings and in this world don't overwhelm us. It is so true that we are what we think (my alma mater used to have a facetious saying "I think therefore IR," playing on philosopher Rene Descarte's famous quote "I think therefore I am/Je pense donc je suis/Cogito ergo sum") and so what I choose to be aware about defines and has a huge affect on my mental well-being. This lecture reminded me I can make conscious choices about what to be aware about. For example, by taking walks or nature bathing or choosing to engage in the creative arts such as creative writing, dancing and ballet, and playing the piano or engaging in sacred practices such as beholding (a piece of art, for example) or sitting at the same spot and just engaging in contemplation or sipping a cup of tea or coffee will go miles in helping us to improve our well-being. How cool is that?!

So today, I will choose to be aware about more positive things such as taking in and absorbing nature or simply taking deep breaths or writing a new poem or getting to that writing project I have always been meaning to get to! These acts help me to "put my Life back together" as Ferlinghetti so poignantly reminds us and to rebuild my Life beautifully in a way that NEEDS to be rebuilt! And Rest in poetry, Lawrence Ferlinghetti - you will be beautifully missed!