A Eulogy for the Lonely: Cactus blooms and finding community in the present moment
The days are warming here. The dry air is full with desert sun, beaming down and soaking into the ground. So that when I take my evening walks, the sidewalks radiate heat back up at me like when you open a preheated oven. The yards are ablaze in red and yellow; the ephemeral blooms of cactus at their Spring height. Soon they will wither and close and the landscape will return to muted browns and sand tones. But for now, in this moment, the blooms shine their light. All of this — the heat, the warmth of the day’s sun on my face, the blood-red blooms — remind me that I am here. I am alive. Like the snake who warms herself on the red desert rocks by day to make it through the cool night, I am inextricably connected to all of this.
Most days my walk leads to the neighborhood park. An obtuse, green oasis of shade in the urban desert. Before the Pandemic, the greenspace swelled with joggers, walkers and dog-owners, attempting to get some time outside. All of us, made our way to the same space, most of us fresh off of our tasks of the day. We circled around each other, often with dogs or kids in tow, but rarely did we engage. If someone were to say hi to me, it would have taken me aback; knocking me out of my music-filled thoughts, fueled by my phone close at hand.
Today though, I walk to the park, and the pace has changed. Instead of hamsters each on our individual wheels of manufactured purpose, we have stepped out of our orbits and learned to be neighbors.
A young man sits on a bench and plays guitar. A small child wonders up to him, and casually stares. He smiles and keeps playing. The child shrieks with glee and sits down to play in the grass and feel the live acoustic tunes wash over her. Her mother smiles and looks on from a safe distance. A group of 50-Somethings use a space under the trees for an “ecstatic dance” class. Their bodies gyrating and pulsing to the music pumped through a small speaker resting in the grass. They exhibit a freedom of movement in public not often seen by adults who have not been drinking.
A pod of three couples have set up a socially-distanced picnic blanket “village,” and are laughing and holding court from afar. As walkers pass by, they call out, “hello” whether they know them or not. I make my way around the same worn path that circumnavigates the park with the family corgi, and instead of listening to music, I make an effort to say hello to every person we pass. Ginger, naturally curious, does the same with every passing dog. More than one fellow-dog-owner calls her by name. We, the two of us, have become more social in four weeks of quarantine, than at any time since I made Albuquerque my home in early Winter.
What does this say about us humans? Well, I am sure it says myriad things, and my one experience at the park in my corner of the world is of course not a statistically accurate sample.
Yet, I feel in my bones a communal sense of wanting to connect with our fellow man like never before.
I am reminded of times spent in the parks of Latin America. Where a stroll through any public space on a pleasant night, would reveal every aspect of life on display. From teenage sweethearts making out, to kids in rollerblade lessons, to band practice and family dinner; life is lived in public because the private spaces of these peoples, often living multi-generationally, are anything but private. I marveled as I ate my esquites or tasajo tacos — how comfortable these humans felt among strangers. It allowed me, a solo traveler, to blend right into the social fabric of life. I never felt alone when traveling, because I never was. I was simply me, there, in the moment, together with everyone else.
Last week, a friend of mine passed on to the other side. His light shown so bright and genuine in life, that as death passed over him, an entire community went dim.
People from all walks of life, many strangers to one another, collectively felt the air sucked from their chests, and gave themselves over to grief.
In a matter of days an art memorial was erected. A Facebook page was created to memorialize the tender, open-hearted being that was Dan. Both were visited copiously (and safely given the virus), and memories of his life poured forth. Dan died not as so many are dying today, of this virus, but doing something he loved. Dan died in an avalanche accident while backcountry skiing.
In a time when the Outdoors Community has been at odds with each other, in an internal debate as to whether enjoying wild spaces in this moment is ethical; Dan’s death put a face and a body to this question. Interestingly enough, not a word of this debate has been mentioned (at least publicly) in association with his accident. No, nothing but love has poured forth for what a man, being, person he was.
It’s as if when a face is attached to a tragedy, the ability to intellectualize the rightness of his actions is belittled by the fact that his was lost too soon. That the public outcry of love is directly proportional to how Dan lived his life: with ultimate trust in his fellow man and faith in Mother Nature.
At the end of the day, my friend’s passing sheds light not on an ideological debate on public safety, but on the beautiful ethos by which he lived. Dan exemplified that a life well-lived is that of an existence shared/experienced/loved with others.
In a time when we are alone in space and body, we are learning and relearning how essential we are to one another. We are remembering and re-remembering the joy of physical touch, the tenderness of a hug, the love of being held, and the stinging pain of loneliness when we go without. Fear is an almighty powerful force. It compels us to act out of scarcity, which by its very nature is selfish.
When we are not able to provide for our own basic needs, when we can’t feed/clothe/ put a roof over the heads of those that depend on us; the sneaking, slithering shadow of guilt and shame sinks in, and all care for anyone else but our own is lost. I see the men and women standing on street corners and in capitals across the country with their signs and guns, shoulder to shoulder and unmasked, and I feel a sinking sadness for how fearful they all must feel.
For it is only when we feel most alone, that we forget what warmth/safety/love can come from caring for our fellow beings. I truly believe, that if a person was not gripped with the fear of losing the ability to provide for those they love, they would not go to such measures to put potentially thousands of other lives at risk.
We are not all meant to see/believe/ and hold the same values. Yet, I can’t help but feel that if the healing power of community became more woven into the fabric of our everyday lives, a universal shift could take place. Because in trust of our fellow man, we find grounding in the present moment, and padding for the inevitable falls of the future.
Every little thing, woven together in a tapestry that we not so much choose, but that the simple act of existing precipitates. This is the secret of this world we are living on. A secret Mother Earth has been whispering in the wind for eternity; but that not until a global moment such as this Pandemic, could we all finally begin to hear clearly. The wind blows, reminding us we are nothing without each other, and for the first time, in a long time, we as a generation are listening.
Without the winter snow running off into the acequias, and the short but sweet spring storms, the cactus flowers could not bloom. Without the sunshine, the snake could not make it through the night in the hopes of her next desert mouse feast. Those same rays allow the cactus to create the food it needs to exist and provide the oxygen we humans need to breathe. It is the warmth I feel on my face, as I put one foot in front of the other. It is the urge to say hello to a stranger. With each step of my body, an energetic leap of my soul is made into another’s orbit.
It is the ability to feel simultaneously terrified of the unknown, and completely supported in the knowledge that if I should fall, my community will be there to pick me up.
I sincerely hope you all are finding your own footing and trust in your community during this time. And for those that have left us, may their light continue to shine on in us all; in our choices and actions and how we treat each other and this planet.
Xoxo
-Cass
