Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

we can get through anything, together: john’s pandemic story

Until March, 2021, John Carpenter and I had enjoyed literally a passing acquaintance. He and I often log miles at the same park in Choctaw and have a few local friends in common, so we have exchanged plenty of runners’ waves over the past few years. It took pandemic for us to finally stop and introduce ourselves (from a distance). Vaccines had barely started in Oklahoma, and things were still tense socially from, well, from everything. I asked whether he would be interested in participating in this interview project. He quickly agreed, laughing and shrugging that people might not like what he has to say. I was instantly hooked.

John Carpenter is a true child of the sixties and doesn’t mind swimming against the current of popular opinion. But he hardly strikes me as being rebellious for rebelliousness’ sake; he is thoughtful and keeps a mellow, almost Buddhist force field around himself, so that even as he is acknowledging conflict or telling a true and terrible story from history, he emits calm. He knows how to flow with changing times, and that quality seems to have helped him thrive during last year’s ongoing tumult. This might be a product of his yoga training, or it could just be from a full, well lived lifetime of ups and downs. He is a vigilant observer of events and human nature, so talking to him about his pandemic experience flowered into a fascinating look backwards into the preceding decades, the life and history that made him who he is, someone who took a global pandemic pretty much in stride and stayed healthy and happy, though still opinionated, the entire time. The more I learned, the more questions I had and the harder it was for me to focus on just this project. Enjoy!

John Carpenter, avid reader, yogi, and local activist

In late 2019 John had seen news reports about a new contagious virus, but it was not yet in the United States. Having seen swine flu and other similar outbreaks in years past, he was not too worried. In early March, 2020, he and his wife of 41 years, Jo, were in Tulsa, Oklahoma, at a book reading by author Luc Sante. Afterwards they shared dinner at a Mexican restaurant. That evening out was their last normal-feeling event for a long time. Then, on March 12, 2020, when a basketball player tested positive for the novel corona virus and emptied the infamous Thunder basketball game on live television, John knew things were serious.

When shutdowns happened, John and Jo had no trouble staying well supplied at home. As he put it, they had “been through too many ice storms in which people panic shopped,” and happily, they never lacked for toilet paper. Well into retirement, their livelihood was unaffected by shutdowns, but John was accustomed to teaching a regular spin class and many yoga classes at a local gym and the YMCA, all of which came to an abrupt halt when the virus hit Oklahoma.

The Carpenters’ first masks were basic medical masks which he purchased at Crest Foods in Midwest City. He later found more online and had no complaints wearing them for the duration of the pandemic.

Daily life changed in noticeable but manageable ways during pandemic. No longer free to teach fitness classes at the gym or YMCA, John transitioned to posting yoga videos on YouTube for his friends and classes. He also kept up his boxing practice by replacing in-person classes with home workouts on a punching bag hung from a tree, plus exercising with free weights. He ran at the park a little more often and found more time than ever for reading books. These were good changes, he felt, as was spending more time with his wife. They developed a ritual of taking long walks together in beautiful outdoor spaces like local parks, Scissortail, in Oklahoma City, or a spot in Edmond they both love.

Entertainment at home included some movies and watching old episodes of The Office. The Carpenters did not seem to need new hobbies, just a shift and refocus of what they already enjoyed. He said that during shutdown, he realized he had been teaching too many classes and decided to cut back greatly once things returned to normal. He has sorely missed attending live music as well as the annual Metropolitan Library System book sale, which he had previously not missed in forty years!

John never contracted the virus, and today he feels great, both physically and mentally. He added that he believes wearing a mask all year prevented him from even catching a cold. Unfortunately, his brother did contract covid-19 and was seriously ill for some time. He lost a significant amount of weight and was nearly hospitalized. Thankfully, after a few weeks of fighting it, he recovered well.

Unsurprisingly, John had a neighborly view of “essential workers” and said he made a point to thank people more often. He exuded lots of warmth for people whose, “jobs that usually our society does not give a lot of credit to but kept us going during the pandemic.” His mother was an educator, and as we spoke his love and respect for teachers shone through.

January 6, 2021, held double importance for John. He was in a parking lot in Seminole, Oklahoma, waiting to receive his first dose of the newly approved covid-19 vaccine, when his phone came alive with news alerts. The nation’s Capitol was under siege, and widespread violence was threatening to explode. The Insurrection, as people came to call it, happened on the very day that life could have been turning a positive corner. Though angered by it all, John took that day in stride, too.

Knowing John is generally outspoken about politics and social issues, I was curious to hear his opinions about how the pandemic was handled both by government leaders and fellow citizens. (John himself ran for local office a few years ago on a shoestring, grassroots campaign, and those stories alone were fascinating and distracting to me, ha!) He said without blanching that our governor should have enacted a mask mandate and that as a state we probably opened back up too soon. “I was happy to see Choctaw enact a mask mandate,” he shared, but, “was disappointed at the pushback from a lot of citizens who felt like they were losing their rights by having to wear a mask. I am sure part of it was political, but the refusal to wear a mask still surprised me and it continues to this day! The YMCA has a policy where you have to wear a mask except while exercising. My opinion, you need to be wearing a mask the whole time you are indoors, exercising or not. I have taught all my classes wearing a mask, if inside and I have had no issues.” (This part of our conversation happened early springtime, when masks were still required most places.)

Beyond politicians, we discussed how society at large could have handled things better. His answer was simple: He wished we had better grasped the dangers. “I think just because it impacts mostly older people, a lot of younger people (were) not taking it too seriously. People seemed to think they (were) giving up their rights by having to wear a mask or get a vaccine. They (did) not realize we are all in this together.”

We reflected on lessons available from past crises and global pandemics, especially World War II and the 1918 Spanish flu. He said about those chapters in history, “We got through it,” then elaborated on how society then had a sense of communal trust. People trusted science, and they trusted that hard times would not last forever. We also talked about the Vietnam War era and what common ground we share with that generation, today. We share racial tension, social unrest as we make fundamental changes, and a deep political divide because of it all.  

John regards social media as a mixed blessing. While he admits to sometimes venting his frustrations online and does not shy away from a lively debate on Facebook, he sees that generally the internet tends to provide a breeding ground for anger and conspiracy. John has a degree in sociology and is happy to discuss complicated things openly, so I could have listened to his ideas about group behavior for a hours. He also has dozens of great stories to tell about the genesis of our own town of Choctaw, OK, and the rapid evolution of nearby Midwest City, home of Tinker Air Force Base.

How truly captivating to think of life and local history being shaped over the decades not just by money, industry, and generational growth, but also by diverse and powerful human personalities. Specific people, just living their lives. Individual persons and groups of people can do so much to hurt or help a community, and John’s collection of stories illustrate that beautifully.

Certainly, music and popular culture have significant roles to play, he explained. In his own coming of age, protest music was common on the radio, and as a teenager John supplied himself with albums by Bob Dylan, The Beatles, The Who, Grateful Dead, and more. He acknowledges they must have had a deep impact on his thinking as a young man. And reading magazines like The Rolling Stone and The New Yorker expanded his world view in a time before the internet. He learned to think differently, to see other groups of people in new, maybe unconventionally (for the time) loving ways, and to think for himself. He recalls watching television news with his Dad, who, despite being from a very different place and time, was apt to explain and thoroughly discuss current events with his son. The Nixon-Kennedy debates in 1960 made an impression on John’s social and political views, as did James Meredith’s enrollment in the University of Mississippi in 1963, to which the National Guard was called. John also followed the Kennedy family closely and was himself a Senate page at our State Capitol in 1966. All of this laid the foundation for how lovingly and seriously John would process the Black Lives Matter movement this past year.

John was bold to answer my questions about how he vets information in an age when we have unlimited access to such a wide variety of it. These days, he is choosy about his news sources, favoring The Atlantic, Harper’s BAZAAR, New York Times, Washington Post, NPR radio, and still The Rolling Stone. His criteria lean on longevity of the publication and how well researched the writers are. John shared that he once met a longtime columnist from The Rolling Stone and took the chance to thank that man for contributing to his thought shaping over the years. I find that beautiful. Locally, John likes KTOK radio, The Gazette and, now that it has changed hands, The Daily Oklahoman. Does The Lost Ogle count as news? He likes that website, too, ha.

Our most recent conversation was early this June, long after vaccine rollout was underway and mask mandates ended here in Choctaw. As things inch toward normalcy, John shared that he and Jo had not been in a restaurant since that night out in Tulsa the previous March. The first restaurant they enjoyed post pandemic was Zoe’s in Edmond, where they dined outside. The second time they ate out was at Picasso’s in the Paseo district. They are still eagerly awaiting their first live music event.

Going forward, how is he changed, besides planning to teach far fewer classes away from home?
“I think I will appreciate everything in life a lot more from here on out. I will try to get the most out of each day. I also know when I go to my next concert, whenever it is, it will be an emotional moment.”

I love what John had to say about the gifts of pandemic: “I believe it showed me I could adapt to most situations. I think being older and hopefully wiser kept me from ever really feeling too depressed or panicky about the situation. I trusted the scientists and I am confident I was on the right side.”

Hearing about both John’s nearly unflappable year in pandemic as well as his coming of age in such an exceptional time in history sparked all kinds of thinking for me. It left me struck by how crucial it is that we help our young people frame things well. This moment in our communal history is shaping our children and teenagers just like the sixties shaped John. How our kids emerge from this pandemic will have everything to do with how they navigate future inevitable crises. It’s common sense of course, and we all know these things; but John’s generous sharing of his life experiences drove it all home for me.

May we all handle with great care our future thought leaders and politicians. May we deeply nurture each other and continue the hard, thorough conversations so that we see beyond where we are, like John did. None of this has to be wasted.

Thank you for sharing so much of your inner world with us, John! Choctaw is lucky to have you.

“Mention me when they ask you what happened.
I am everywhere under your feet.”
~Luc Sante
XOXOXOXO

hello, happy march!

I am so deeply refreshed to be in this third month of the new year, teetering giddily on the knife edge of springtime. The farm has thankfully survived every brutal winter storm that has come our way since last October. Our family is thriving and reaching warmly, patiently, towards brand new miracles. Every day I feel more of that old, familiar, vernal energy thrumming against my bones. It feels the way dirt smells, and it enlivens all my work. It makes everything seem not just possible but also purposeful. That’s beautiful.

Last week, on a whim, we hung LED lights around the outside edge of the yurt. It’s one more quirky layer added to the structure, wildly imperfect and sparkling and welcoming. Hopefully we will soon be filling the yurt itself with people.

Also last week, I finally took time to start a few trays of seeds, and before the weekend arrived they had already sprouted. All of them! So I planted more and eventually hung a bigger sun lamp. I never get tired of this miracle. Genovese basil, several beautiful kinds of tomatoes (especially excited about the tie dye variety) and sweet peppers, Queen Anne’s Lace, Bergamot, tomatillos, and more. I have lots of gourmet lettuce blend growing, too, in those large plastic clamshells you buy filled with fancy salad mix in the produce department. I find this clever repurposing, well, clever. It’s the best tiny greenhouse money doesn’t even have to buy (twice).

I want to prune and clean the gardens hard, but expereince tells me to wait a few more weeks, maybe into late April this year. In the flower beds and herb garden, I have only scooted away enough oak leaves to enjoy the early-blooming tulips and daffodils. That much is safe. But overall, we will have to endure the widespread, messy, sepia dormancy a while longer, for the safety of all those perennials and shrubs still in hiding. Happily, I do see feathery, ruby colored buds on my hydrangeas and hints of electric green in the deepest twigs of my boxwoods. Just like hope, the beginning of springtime is quiet and shy but certainly there.

Last Thursday I launched a story-telling-slash-interview project to commemorate one year in pandemic. My heart’s desire is to collect and share as many varied stories as possible, to capture our collective and individual pandemic memories. Such a time in history! It will all eventually be printed into a booklet, for our time capsule. I want the good, the bad, the scary, the historic, the funny, all of it. Friends and family volunteered quickly, and as of today I have nine interviews completed with seventeen in the wings, ready to Zoom. The stories are all so interesting, I love it. And I love you all for sharing. Stay tuned for each of those to appear individually!

On the topic of interviewing people, if you are fortunate enough to still have your parents alive and in your life, I strongly encourage you to ask them questions as if they are normal people. Very interesting. Who knew parents had so many original thoughts and ideas? Amazing.

Closing up for tonight, friends. I hope you are feeling some of the refreshment of early spring. I hope you are enjoying the slightly longer days and the noticeably warmer skies. Do you want to participate in the pandemic interview project? Drop me a note! Everyone is welcome.

“Behold, my friends, the spring is come;
the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun,
and we shall soon see the results of their love!”
~Sitting Bull
XOXOXO

our easy day off & freedom is a gift we choose to accept

Friday, July 3, 2020. Quarantine Day #111.

State offices are closed today, but our bodies don’t know that, so we woke naturally up at 5:13 a.m. Handsome, Shepp, and I spent the next two hours taking in the day slowly. We drank our coffee, watched cartoons, explored the gardens, and watered and fed the animals. Little Lady Marigold, our new sheep, made another good attempt to meet me at her breakfast bowl. She always backs off at the last second, but every day the distance shrinks. I love her slotted pupils, stick-straight legs, and puffy, matted fleece.

Temperatures were still mild in the early hours, mid seventies, and the skies were painterly blue and white. Our first harvest of the day was five eggs, 2 bright yellow squash, seven heavy tomatoes, and a few cups of ripe blackberries. There is always a second harvest in the afternoon.

Mid-morning I grabbed a 5 mile progression run on the treadmill (felt great, zero pain!) and half an hour in the gym. Meanwhile Handsome played around with the art of motorcycle maintenance. I cannot vouch for his Zen, though, because apparently my little green Honda had been sitting too long and now has a fuel line gummed up. Did I ever tell you that I got my motorcycle license? It is one of the biggest shocks of life, truly. Sometimes when I think about it I start sweating and trembling spontaneously.

We decided to break some monotony and take a short drive to Wellston, Oklahoma, just under an hour away. There is a locally famous barbecue stand there, an outdoor restaurant, really, that serves food from an old school bus.

We enjoyed the steamy drive in a topless car but declined to stop and eat because the parking lot was at capacity, swarming with people. We are distancing pretty strictly still, so that was a hard pass. Instead, we drove and drove, loving the sunshine and the undulating country roads flanked by corn fields, hay meadows neatly adorned with giant round bales, and tiny, almost delicate cemeteries. We accidentally joined up with Memorial road where it suddenly becomes heavy gravel, so we slowed way down. The careful pace allowed me to see the roadside meadows better: Vitex and Indian tobacco growing wild. Pecan and Red Bud saplings wilting in the heat. Thick ornamental grasses, tickseed, and Virginia Creeper, all tangled up and blissfully unaware of pandemic. I soaked up the rural house gardens when they appeared. Mostly orange day lilies and pink crepe myrtle bushes. I imagine they are generational perennials.

Back home again, we ate regular food from our well stocked kitchen and were perfectly happy, ha! The heat and humidity returned and our work was caught up, so we spent part of our afternoon in the pool and on the deck.

I finished reading Cold Mountain, the Civil War novel that many people remember as the movie with Nicole Kidman and Jude Law. The book is beautifully written, a weirdly motivating read if you like manual labor and general human suffering, or the perseverance through suffering. And it is so humbling. The circumstances people can survive, it just amazes and inspires me.

“That’s just pain, she said. It goes eventually. And when it’s gone, there’s no lasting memory. Not the worst of it, anyway. It fades. Our minds aren’t made to hold on to the particulars of pain the way we do bliss. It’s a gift God gives us, a sign of His care for us.” ~Charles Frazier, Cold Mountain

“Waste not thy liberty.” One of my all time favorite, short and sweet mantras. Tomorrow is Independence Day. I have been thinking a lot about freedom lately, about being free, about being set free from all kinds of earthly bondage.

As a thought experiment lately, every time I catch myself saying or thinking that I have to do something, my goal is to replace it with I get to do something. It’s a small but powerful word swap. I have been liberated and set free from so many things, so many hardships and limitations, so much silencing, so many real fears. Not only am I free in the political or social sense; but more importantly I am free spiritually, psychologically, and emotionally, so long as I continue to choose that state of living. My thoughts and habits can either cultivate or surrender this gift every day.

Liberty is not the wild absence of discipline; in fact being free invites a more authentic version of self rule. Being free from outside controls requires and encourages us to set our own controls, some that make sense and are harmonious with our values and circumstances. At least that’s how I see it.

Okay I hope you are well, thank you for reading! I also hope we have popcorn for dinner soon and watch a movie.

One more thing, what do you think would happen to a person’s body if she were to only eat watermelon and cashews? I mean, mostly those two things?

“I am full of freedom.”
~Kellie Sperry
(I owe you this story soon, friends!)
XOXOXOXO

a few coping exercises

Hello again, friend, and happy Sunday! According to my journal, we are at day 64 of the quarantine in Oklahoma. It has been a curving, intuitive, stumbling walk through unfamiliar woods, right? With a few bumps and scrapes along the way? But it’s okay. It’s different, but it’s okay. I hope you’re okay.

I just wanted to pop in and offer a few thought experiments and coping exercises that I love, in case you could use a fresh approach this coming week. Take what you like, leave what you don’t, and feel free to share your own ideas!

Here and Now: I close my eyes and imagine an actual X-Y axis and put myself in the center of it, safe and surrounded by Love. I am here, in this beautiful place, today, in this moment, and this time is both fleeting and elastic. It will never come again. I am safe. I imagine each of my people in this space too, either in their own X-Y axis or in mine. Then I open my eyes and really pause. Friend, try to remind yourself that most worries and fears are about the future, the conjured up what ifs, and most sadness is about the past or the imagined or magnified losses. Not all of them, I admit; life is brimming with very real grief and I do not mean to diminish that. But if you can harness your energy and imagination and pour it all generously into the present moment, the current situation, you will walk more powerfully and deal with that grief better. Worries tend to dissolve in the heat of mindfulness. You will also be primed to more fully celebrate brand new joys!

Attitude of Gratitude: Bob Goff has some great explorations of the word attitude in his stories about small aircraft. He explains well the importance of small, imperceptible degrees as you set your course and how they change the plane’s trajectory, its ultimate destination. This image helps me remember that attitude is more than a flimsy notion about our thoughts, more than an invisible flavor; attitude is literally how we shape our path and progress in the world. And gratitude, as we know, unlocks all kinds of blessings. It’s an amazing combination.

I was given the chance to catch some bees this week! I was nervous and excited. Definitely grateful for so many aspects of this project. Those emotions shaped the whole experience.

Pretend This is All Your Design (befriend the moment): Do you ever feel trapped? Especially if you are really quarantined, right? This exercise is surprisingly helpful for me in lots of circumstances. It draws me out of a frustrated, victimized state of mind and helps me see how much is actually going in my favor. I do this in small, common moments, and I do this in the grander scheme of things too. It helps. Try it! Just literally pretend for a few minutes that everything you can notice was your idea, no matter how weird, no matter how “good” or “bad.” In fact, in this fantasy everything is good. Pretend that you had a secret and deliberate plan for everything to be exactly the way it is, and somehow your mind will begin to fish out the hidden benefits. You can (at least temporarily) become sold on the upside to every perceived limitation and obstacle. Results will vary, haha, but if you can get your creative juices flowing, then you can begin to see that some things are not so bad after all. Some difficulties really are blessings, or at least opportunities for growth. Life should not always be easy, right? Let’s scrape out all the benefits of weird times. Have fun with this one.

Accept, then act. Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it. Make it your friend and ally, not your enemy. This will miraculously transform your life. ~Eckhart Tolle

Sensory Inventory: This practice not only refocuses me into the present moment; it helps keep words and phrases fresh and active in my mind. I try to do it at unusual times of day, too, not just the obviously poetic moments like sunrise or the golden hour. Invest a few minutes taking stock of a particularly stressful or unpleasant chapter of your pandemic life, and you might find some humor or hidden beauty there; you may even find a profound message. Try this practice when you do not feel the least bit poetic or particularly observant, so you can develop those muscles. Write down seven categories: Everything you see, hear, taste, touch, and smell. Now add your thoughts and emotions, for they are certainly part of your private landscape. Take a good, honest inventory and do so without judgement. Allow wide eyed observation and curiosity to take a high-resolution snapshot of what is a truly happening in your life. If I had students or children at home, I would absolutely be challenging them to write Senses Inventories at random times throughout quarantine, then keep those little scraps of paper in a memory book to read twenty years from now.

Move Your Body (in a new way): Oh man, haha! Okay, I have had to cut way back on running due to some spicy Achilles and ankle situations, and it took me some time to remember how good it feels to truly indulge in other physical activities, I mean indulge in the fullness of them, without the exhaustion of high mileage. After a few weeks of pouting then a few days of choosing joyful movement, my body feels good and lively again. I dare you to try this ahead of necessity. Move in all directions. Flex and stretch and allow life’s energy to literally flow through you, then make sure you are nourished and hydrated in your favorite ways. Our minds and spirits and bodies are already all one being, no doubt about it. Nurture that and enjoy the benefits.

Remember The Book of Joy that we ready a couple of years ago? My Mom is reading it now, on my brother Joey’s recommendation! I love it when we all devour the same goodness.

Okay, that’s what I have for you today! How are you finding a bit of calm in the chaos? Please share. I wish you vibrant health and abundant joy this week. Hope to talk again soon.

“Although the world is full of suffering,
it is also full of the overcoming of it.”
~Helen Keller
XOXOXOXO

an easter week we will never forget

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday, easily my favorite holiday of the year.

Easter represents world-changing miracles and promises kept despite every opposition. Easter means new life. The best life, in fact, springing from absolute grief and apparent defeat. Easter is the resurrection of every good and pure thing, a celebration of the immovable power of Love.

Traditionally, Easter is fresh flowers and home cooked food, baskets filled with chocolate bunnies and colorful gifts, egg hunts and gingham and lace.

(a lifetime ago)
(one of our passover traditions)

Holy Week is also somber remembrances and Bible readings, “blood” around our front door, and white cloth on the cross. This holiday week has always been  busy with church activities and family gatherings, and the details sustain me. They all bind me together in deep places, providing that rhythm of renewal that we need over and over again. (There is no shame in needing renewal, by the way. We are designed for it.)

In many ways, I love Easter more than Thanksgiving and Christmas and the New Year, combined. Now is when everything actually feels new.

Easter is different this year, in quarantine, but it’s different in some magical ways. I feel it and smell it and hear it coming like birdsong at daybreak. We are renewing ourselves more than ever, despite the changes and limitations. Maybe because of them?

I hope you sense it too. I hope you are able to rest and breathe deeply, still capturing the essence of this special season. I hope you take all the time you need to distill and celebrate the best gifts, because they are still being offered.

(apple blossom)

I am not too upset by missing out on some of the man made trappings of Easter weekend. Traditions are, after all, just outward expressions of what matters to us, physical things we do to rekindle emotions we hold dear. We are all more than capable of accepting new circumstances and applying our imaginations and resources in new ways, to still conjure up those feelings. Maybe even amplify them. Maybe build some magic in brand new ways.

(our dessert tomorrow, for just the two of us)

How are you holding up? Or are you, actually, thriving in this weird time? On a cellular level, safe and hidden from the news cycle and statistics and angst about what is temporarily lost, are you at peace? Are you encouraged and nourished by what is being offered to us, and happy about what is right around the corner? I am. I feel it, like a heartbeat. I am breathing it in, like ozone and honeysuckle and fermenting sourdough. I see the green shoots of New Life bursting through clay and unfurling, silently. Surely. Right on time.

“Heaven took a deep breath and held it,
because everything was about to change.”
~Bob Goff
XOXOXO