What the Moon Says in the Time of Coronavirus

It seemed a little dystopic, Saturday when I pulled into the Driftwood Centre. The parking lot was mostly empty. There was a power generator roaring away at the entrance to the Tru Value grocery store.

Of course, news of the Coronavirus was forward in my mind. It coloured my response to the scene, drawing parallels to zombie/horror movies I’d seen in the distant past.

There was a power outage, remember, and the Tru Value was trying to keep the refrigerators and coolers running with power from the generator.

But then, sure enough, two people emerged from the store holding toilet paper packages and large bags of groceries. It was no typical Saturday at the Driftwood. Power outage or not.

The staff beckoned us inside and guided us around the store because the lights were off and aisles in the back were dark. It was cash-only at the checkout. There was no WiFi and thus no credit/debit capability, but it was otherwise a successful shop. Manager Mike Gray and the staff were cheerful and helpful, and there was a shared sense of “Let’s make the best of this strange situation.”

My Friday morning bread bake

Driving home, I remembered my early morning bread bake, Friday, the day before. I was up at 2:30 a.m. I’d swept embers and ashes out of the oven and shuttered her off to cool down. I walked around to the front of the property, overlooking Boundary Pass. We call it “The Prow” because it feels like the bow of a ship.

The moon was behind a thin veil of clouds. I couldn’t see stars or the water at the foot of the cliff. A few birds twittered in the darkness, but the world was otherwise silent, still.

The word, dystopic, did not come to mind this time. I was instead reminded of the solidity of the earth, its permanence. My weight bearing down on the turf, the globe supporting me.

The muffled birdsong, the softened moonlight, trees clinging to the rock, swaying in a gentle breeze. It has been thus for thousands of years and will be for many more.

The world is still a beautiful place

With all the strange things happening, the world is still a beautiful place, I thought, standing there on the prow of South Pender.

The news changes minute by minute, but this is a truth we can hold as self-evident 1, solid, permanent.

The Coronavirus has grabbed hold of the world, exploited the latent fear in all of us. Still, I think we’d do well to stay close to what is most true in our lives, to remember our immense blessings and bounty … while taking care of our health and those around us.

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