How do we find joy and meaning while in hiding from the scourge?

I recall my visit to Amsterdam to see the hidden room where Ann Frank wrote her poignant story. I find inspiration in Victor Frankl’s astonishing book, “Man’s Search for Meaning,” written while an inmate at the Auschwitz concentration camp.

I forward the encouraging quotes my friends send daily. I Facetime with my granddaughter. I write this weekly post.

Brainy stuff. All good. But not enough.

Watching Trump spew his lies each afternoon puts me on the edge of exploding like a
Gummy Bear dropped in potassium chlorate. After bingeing all ten episodes of “Ozark” I feel like a saggy Happy Birthday balloon left tied to the doorknob for days after the party ended.

I know what I must do.

I turn to my zafu cushion in front of the statue of the Buddha and Ayurveda healing crystals. And I turn inward, the journey signaled by a light tap on the healing bowl, my senses seduced by calming music (I prefer the harp to the harmonium).

Do not confuse me with some head shaven monk prostrate in front of a golden icon. The lyrics of my spiritual trip are not sung in Sanskrit. The stanzas are very much in the vernacular. I whisper to myself…

Go with the flow. Relax, accept what is, surf your emotions; if I stay calm, I can float on the tempestuous sea; if I panic, I become rigid and lose my buoyancy… and drown.

Be mindful. Focus on the miracles that are everywhere present. Be present. The store-bought orchid I’ve nursed through the seasons for eight years has bloomed again!
I am grateful for my family, my good health, my strong body… for everything.

Awaken to the light of your own true nature. Be conscious of my connection to the infinite. I am not a physical being having a spiritual experience, I am a spiritual being having a physical experience. The difference is vast. There are times when I understand it.

The chimes sound; time’s up. Time for the news. After dinner we’ll stream an old television series called “Damages,” starring Glenn Close. It’s engrossing. Another day of sheltering in place comes to a close.