Off and on during the two months since the pandemic really landed in North America, I have noticed a heaviness in my chest. When I sit with it, it feels like grief: for people dying alone in hospitals without their loved ones; for ICU staff overwhelmed in Italy and New York City; and for everyone’s abrupt loss of normal.
There is some fear for myself and people I love, although I am pretty skilled now at breaking the fear-induced trance of catastrophic thinking. It doesn’t take hold the way it used to.
One thing that helps shift the heaviness is
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