When Ease is Hard

Ease:

The state of being comfortable: such as

a : freedom from pain or discomfort

b : freedom from care

c : freedom from labor or difficulty

d : freedom from embarrassment or constraint :
e : an easy fit

Among the qualities I try to cultivate in my morning meditation is ease of well-being, which is a term I’ve struggled to really understand. What exactly does ease look like on any given day? How do I maintain it in the midst of full-on quarantine since V was exposed to someone with Covid last week at school, in the midst and aftermath of another snowstorm? How do I keep my cool and humor and a sense of comfort as I face V’s boredom and frustration and let’s face it, my own?

We did a Covid home test, which was delayed arriving due to severe weather in the south and was delayed getting back to the lab because of severe weather in the northeast. There are millions of people without power so I stop to acknowledge that I’m in a warm dry house with plenty of food and the means to store and prepare it. We’ve had our share of power outages and I’m appreciative that we don’t have one, at least yet. I stop and wish for the safety and comfort of others.

The test results just came back – negative! A huge relief; home therapists are allowed back in the house although no school, according to CDC guidelines, until Friday, and another week until we start in with a teaching aide who will be coming to the home two mornings a week. It’s a delay to the light I was starting to get a glimmer of at the end of this Covid tunnel that has constrained us for nearly a year. There is no way around the fact that it sucks and I’m going to have to be especially resilient to cultivate ease.

And joy, which is right outside the door. I take Ruby out – she loves the snow and regains some of her youthful demeanor, prancing about with a wagging tale until we are back home and she has to be carried up the stairs she can no longer manage, old girl once again. I too feel younger in the snow, enraptured by the silence and early morning light that makes the streetscape so enchanting. For a few minutes we might both be 8 years old, filled with childish energy and delight.

Back inside there is coffee and a full fridge thanks to online shopping. I am grateful for everything I can do on my phone, ordering groceries and takeout and with a love/hate relationship, purchases from Amazon to help get through the winter: A SAD lamp, a heating pad for my back, the percolator that makes the coffee, the snow boots we wear when we venture out. Much as I want to shop local and support small businesses, I opt for ease. It’s not like I’m heartless or extravagant, flying off to Cancun, I’m just seeking comfort to weather these storms.

By late afternoon I’m spent. Still, the days continue to get longer. Within a few months I will replace photos of snow with pictures of crocuses, then eventually magnolias and cherry blossoms.  My silent morning walks will be filled with birdsongs. We will round a full year with this god awful virus.  Things will ease up eventually. For now, May we all have ease of well being, as best we can.