The Salmon Gather to Spawn
December 17–21, Amherst, MA USA
Seasonal Memoir #44
Omicron has arrived, and with attitude. I have a few hot takes this week, in ascending order of conviction:
- People’s decisions (whether to bunker down like a hermit, or to carry on with minimal protection measures) are deeply personable, and as long as people are not recklessly putting those most vulnerable in danger, then I think we let people be and live their lives.
- Schools need to stay open, hell or high water, as young people can ill afford multiple years of disruption to their learning, not to mention to their state of mental health (I now believe that schools are relative safe havens from transmission).
- We need to double the pay of health care workers (assistants, nurses, doctors, receptionists, etc.) NOW. I don’t think we are fully empathizing with how much we have relied on them not only for our own health and safety, but to continue the lifestyles (more or less) that we’re accustomed to living.
On a different note, how can I tell if I have a low-grade case of Omicron if roughly 10% of me feels like poop at all times (due to age and not treating my body like a temple)? Just wondering… lol
Have you ever listened to a favorite piece of music, and been in the exact mood for it (but did not realize it at first)? I had this experience recently listening to Bob Marley’s live performance of War. It’s more than just a sublime experience, but part flow and part transcendental meditation.
I continue to foster the amateur poet in me (though I still struggle reading and understanding poetry). Here’s a short piece, about nobody in particular:
living in a glass house where the windows are held together with putty.
moods rising up and down, sea swells, but mostly flat, without the tranquility.
freezing rain, brilliant sunshine; gray clouds always threatening.
grit: a curious concept; ephemeral, theoretical, and fleeting.
fragility is what makes us uniquely human.