Writing in time of COVID-19/Corona Virus, Part 1: The Little Dish

Grocery shopping, the new normal. March 2020.

It's a stressful and anxious time for a lot of us. Many new activities are being exercised to pass the time, be productive, or reflect.

In my home, it's become essential for my partner and I to remind each other of our blessings. We are taking things one day at a time. Yes, we have financial worries. Yes, my freelance and artistic lifestyle has been put under a microscope and changes need to happen. Yes, not seeing grandparents, tios, and tias is very sad for us right now - but it's going to be okay. This we know deep down inside our anxious little hearts. When this is over, many of us will be in the same boat. Many of us will leave our little caves and ask, Okay world, what's next?

I am sensing that my daily practices and rituals will change, if not in practice then in appreciating them on a deeper level. I think I will pray before eating ice cream now, and when I hug my mom and dad, it's going to be at least ten seconds longer than it ever was before. I wonder how we will cope as a community? Be it a global, national, city, or local. I crave dance, song, and collaboration with a lot of people...but this will all take time. 

I have a feeling that priorities will shift. The world will confront all the things we have in the past deemed impossible, and reflect on how some of those things were made possible when everyone's health is at stake. Global change, economic restructuring (with the right leaders at the helm), and sanctuary for people living on the margins. My hope is that things we said in the past - like, "We cannot fix this in just one day," will now be challenged, weighed, and examined with a careful eye.  In the past few weeks, at least in my City of Los Angeles, waves of new policy have been coming into play to alleviate the stressors of its inhabitants. What were we so afraid of before? Why is change so scary? Why is a helping hand only possible when everyone's life or well being is at stake? Can we envision a life of change and progress when there is no pandemic? Then I think about my role in the entire thing and reflect upon my own resistance to change and growth. What am I so afraid of? Then...

Why haven't I started that business? 

Why haven't I finished my novel? 

Why didn't I apply to that school abroad?

Why do I allow myself to stay in spaces where love is no longer served at the table? 

Why am I in a work cycle that is not sustainable?

Being locked down means being locked down with these thoughts. Sometimes I simmer alone and sometimes with company. My husband is a good distraction and we enjoy petty arguments like - It's your turn to change the diaper! My favorite. My son has been getting extra cuddles and attention now that there is no need for mommy to go to the theater or network at some random warehouse in Downtown Los Angeles. It's been a moment of pause for our family. A time for love and chaos to interweave, and for conversations about our future to flourish between pasta dishes, dirty diapers, cups of coffee, and split ends that are driving me mad. Also I cut my son's hair, and I am sure no one will ever let me live it down. Being with family this much is refreshing, to say the least.

My husband and I are doing our best not to let stressors take over our day to day conversations. Instead, in our home, we try to focus on the positive because despite all the stress and anxiety, there are also things to celebrate. 

Things like seeing my son take his first steps, revisiting family recipes, and reading again. I haven't been able to read a book properly in a long time. No more gas expenses burning a hole in our wallets, no more spending on sushi, chilly cheese fries (I miss you), and online purchases that are forgotten until they reach our door. Everything has come to a complete halt.  

It took a pandemic for me to stop and look around.

We are re-evaluating our necessities. We talk about relationships that feel transactional rather than authentic. We look into our neighbor's eyes when we say hello on our walks. We witness the ripple effect of someone losing their job and it's relationship to our economy. We are connected. We pretend to live in a world where we can barter and trade again. We've been using hand me down baby clothes and sharing the loot with a handful of families we know. We watch our baby sun bathe as we stroll him to sleep. We wonder about his future, his education, and the inevitable regular jobs we'll have to do to fulfill his needs. We wonder if anyone else is asking similar questions? 

Today, on our walk, we found sticks tied to the end of a rope on an orange tree, inviting us to pull some down for our enjoyment. The streets are empty. Only the sound of a crying child on a second story of an apartment building window give me the sense that beyond our existence, there is another human life. The child is feeling pain, betrayal, or hunger. I try to guess, as my husband ignores and jumps up to get an orange from the tree with his own hands. We walk on, knowing that we must return indoors again.

Then there's the productivity police; they live in my ear and on my instagram feed - 

What have you done since the lock down? 

What can you do? 

What will you do? 

It's exhausting just to process the layers of it. I remember once, my friend Anatalia Sanchez reminding me, your worth is not measured by your productivity. When I feel like there is a lot of noise, I remember these words because, to me, they are medicine. 

Okay, productivity police, I wish I could say that I have finished my novel, started writing a feature film, and completed all the editing projects - but I am not there. I patiently flow at my speed, knowing that the finish line is not the goal. If I focus on the finish line, I neglect process and reflection - essential for growth and development. I focus instead on a strategy I learned at The Actors Fund called "the little dish" exercise.

Step one, pick your "little dish." For example, my goal is to clean my office and organize my desk. First, I will pick up my pencil and put it in the pencil case; this is going to be my "little dish." There is a study out there that says if you do something for 30 seconds, your body will flow into more of that activity just because you are committing to the motions of it. Thus, from the pencil I can flow into cleaning my desk. Step 2, I will clear the floor space by throwing away unnecessary items and downsize,  so that my son to play beside my desk. Step 3, I will write on the blackboard all of the things I want to accomplish in the next couple of weeks. Step 4, allow myself to make mistakes and not be perfect. This is how I remain healthy. It always helps me to start small. Small moments encourages big action. 

Over the past three years, I have been working towards re-patterning my brain to make healthier practices like "the little dish" a daily occurrence. When I put it into practice, I feel growth and accountability in a healthy productive way, rather than guilt or shame. Guilt and shame stop action. Are there bumps on the road? Of course! There will always be bumps on the road. In any activity, you can pause and return again the next day. You can always start over. That's the beautiful thing about "the little dish." Do it in silence, do it to music, dance your way into the activity, or simply be still. Stillness is also powerful.

I tell myself, step by step. Don't forget to breathe. Everything will be okay. 

We are not all the same. I am choosing to do work at my own pace. I have friends who are sprinting towards their goals. I have others who are catching up on sleep and reconnecting with the deepest part of their inner knowing. This is all okay. Time is just a construct. Age is just a number. Family and real friends will always have your back in life and in spirit. One foot in front of the other, and at your own pace. Don't compare yourself to others, especially online. Good Lord! Life is not contained in a social media image. I see images online as beautiful imprints that my community shares to connect with me, or make me laugh. I love the ones that make me laugh.

Everyone's "little dish" is different, some will shift and change. For some of us, it's a pencil on a desk. For others, it's a proper bubble bath with calming music and candles. For me, right now, it's focusing on being a good mom. Especially because my son has been the best Assistant Director any mommy could ever ask for. He has my back, so now I have his. Even when he poops on me.

Teatro Frida Kahlo Theater during "Sala de Amor y Guerra" rehearsal. January 2020.

This whole lock down of our beloved city has got me reflecting a lot. How are you coping with this experience? Do you have an exercise or meditation you want to share? Comment below.

I am looking forward to sharing more ideas in my next blog entry Writing in the time of COVID-19/Corona Virus, Part 2: Process & Creativity. 

Until next time!

Rosa Lisbeth Navarrete

IG/Twitter: @mizperu

RESOURCES / GREAT READS FOR THE TIMES:

LA TACO Recreational Centers that are being turned to homeless shelters.

exploreorg.tv/auroraborealis Stream the dancing, waving, emerald lights that serenade the arctic starlit sky every night.

The Fable Cottage Stories in French for children and adults learning new languages.

Chris Hadfield YouTube Channel An Astronaut's Guide to Self Isolation (start doing things!) + Space Myths

Tiny Desk Concerts So many artists! Natalia Lafourcade's 2017 concert is one of my favorite ones.

Patrick Stewart is posting a Shakespeare sonnet a day until this horror is over

30-Day Decluttering Calendar I looked it over and adapted it to my personal space. Have fun!

Nonprofits launch site for Asian Americans to report coronavirus-related racism

10 Ways to Regrow Food in Water

How to Make Face Mask with Filter Pocket and Adjustable Wire | Sewing Tutorial