[Above photo: Sunset on the lobster fleet moored in Stonington Harbor, Deer Isle, Maine. Courtesy of Kate Lorig without her permission!]
26 April 2020
I have a perpetual war with the tiny black ants that visit my kitchen sink. I am the General, I order the troops (my thumbs) to do their most fierce, targeted strikes. It feels very un-Buddhist of me. [My rant for the week.]
I am still in isolation but somehow coming out of the ennui of last week. It may not be coincidental that my TV is broken and I haven’t been watching the news. I am feeling very excited about my students. Both groups are doing psychotherapy role-plays and I have fashioned our process so that I can see them all learning in front of my eyes. It is a thrill!
I dreaded role-plays when I was in training or in workshops. Now I love them and feel they can provide wonderful experience and points of discussion for learning psychotherapy. They aren’t the same, or as good, as live patients but they definitely are very engaging and with a good “patient”, the students even begin to experience transference and countertransference. It is pretty amazing to me.
While not injecting myself with bleach, I am taking precautions on my weekly forays to City Marketplace in Junction City Mall. Yesterday I bought capers and marinara sauce and other tasty ingredients to compliment my larder. The telephone rang two days ago and it was two of my students, chaperoned (You old devil, George!) by a husband, with bags of groceries. This time they brought lots of fresh fruit—apples, mangos, clementines—and broccoli. Most importantly, a homemade chicken curry and two relishes they created. One was a reduction sauce of tomatoes, hot peppers and something else delicious, the other a sour, very dark green, fibrous concoction. I immediately had them with a stir-fry of rice, broccoli, and a whipped egg. The relishes are like opium and I don’t think I can, or want, to live the remainder of my years without them!! I told the students the same, pleading for the recipes; they responded, thanking me for giving them purpose in their current lives in isolation (One is hardly isolated with a husband and two children.) and promising me a supply of each. My garlic naan, following Linda’s lead, turned out well and I am encouraged to try more kitchen experiments. One way to cope, I guess.
The boat traffic on the Yangon River is the compelling view from my apartment and deck. It is the route of all the freighters moving slowly in and out of port. More prominently, it is the highway for up to 26 (at a time!) 20+ feet long diesel-powered open boats that ferry people and produce to the City from Dala, which connects by road with the Delta Region. Since the tidal ebb is up to 16 feet, there is a swift flow back and forth in the brackish river. The small boats must travel at a 45 degree angle to their destination to compensate for the flow. I wonder what it does to the drivers who always must aim away from where they want to arrive. It is probably very good training for certain professions, like being a politician. Or a psychoanalyst. Or a priest.
I have now facilitated two meetings with the coordinating group for International NGO’s here, 55 leaders, about half of whom are Myanmar nationals. I was asked to do a presentation and lead a discussion about Self-Care during CocoRoro times. I presented a PowerPoint but the discussion immediately pivoted to concerns about their respective organizations: difficulties fulfilling their mission, donors getting squirrely, and how best to care for their most vulnerable employees, those locals at the bottom of the ladder with nothing in the bank. The second meeting accordingly focused on the organizational issues, and by the end of 1 ½ hours the mood was very, very somber. Sometimes there are no good choices, only less bad ones. Still, there is a value in sharing with each other—-problems, approaches, solutions—as a form of self-care. The meeting will continue every 2 weeks as long as people want it.
The uncertainties make strategic (or even not-strategic) planning very challenging. Does infection give us lasting immunity? Is it even possible to make a proper vaccine for this? I note that it hasn’t been possible with two other, less contagious corona viruses—SARS and MERS. Can we summon the international will, and enforcement power, to stop the environmental degradation that has led to this? China hasn’t banned wild animal wet markets. Can we get this clown out of the White House and attempt to address global climate change? We must get the $ out of elections in the US or those with the $ will continue to dictate policy. I attempt to rein in my passion, knowing that if it is freed to rip and run it will not help the situation or, less grandiosely, me. We do have a great opportunity for an awakening and to attempt to avoid the iceberg if we act with some intelligent purpose. I do think Joe will surround himself with smart, science-savvy, good-intentioned people.
A brilliant essay you may enjoy:
David Katz https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/20/opinion/coronavirus-pandemic-social-distancing.html
And a follow-up by Thomas Friedman (not always a fan of his, certainly not about invading Iraq) https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/25/opinion/coronavirus-immunity-trump.html?action=click&module=Opinion&pgtype=Homepage
I am so in love with “My Brilliant Friend”, I am ready to take a plane to Naples and hire a hit on the Solara brothers, especially Marcello. That bastard! And Stefano, how could he so compromise, and abuse, our heroine?
I had a Zoom chat this morning with 4 wonderful women, nurses all, with whom I worked at the Alviso Community Health Center 50 years ago. All smart as whips, all adventurers and leaders, all very accomplished. One was President of the Board of National Planned Parenthood—her father was a Mexican illegal immigrant-turned-garlic-farmer, Donny; another is an international leader in health education; a third introduced family planning to Egypt (17+ clinics); and, finally, the woman who started academic midwifery, and got it licensed, in British Columbia. It was so good to talk with them. It is mildly painful to recall how clueless I was back then, as the Medical Director, and how visionary they were. What remarkable people I’ve had the good fortune of bumping into, bouncing off of, caring about, and simply knowing.
Time for lunch. Please be safe.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 