Zoom

I have been video conferencing on a regular basis with people since last May or June, mostly on Zoom. These are people I have never met outside of the screen and I find them delightful, intriguing and inspiring. I was not much of a believer in the whole online thing but now I regularly show up to hang out and write with my friends in the computer. They have made me cry, laugh, blush and rue my hasty speaking, just like friends in the flesh. We have spent hundreds of hours together at this point and have an intimacy that is sacred in its constancy and internationalness.

Nobel Prize winner, he‘s pretty old now, good thing he‘s got a mask and scarf.

In December I joined another online community, a much bigger one, and over the months I have gotten to know these people as well. These spring days I wear shorts for the midday sun and then wrap in a blanket when the sun leaves my balcony. Through Zoon I am seeing so many people, women mostly, on their balconies or lawn chairs and in their blankets. Last night I watched a young woman, muted, slowly and articulately spoon something out of a large white bowl while we attended our course. It was poetic the way she grasped the metal spoon with her long fingernails and settled back on her couch to listen.

Iris I rise.

I used to think that everyone else was out and busy having joyous lives, secret picnics under spreading oak trees and family gatherings with delicious salty food. I could only see glimpses of the lives of others as I rode my bike down suburban streets or colored in the desiring book of my imagination. But now, thanks to Zoom, I know I belong. We are in the hundreds, ladies in blankets on couches, fomenting the next big thing. From Australia to Panama to the North of England. Why didn‘t anyone tell me that I am just like the others? No cuckoo‘s egg. Even here in France, women are grabbing their duvets and settling into their couches and Zooming the night away.

Before Zoom but in the same spirit, a thoughtful girl, painted on a garage.

We are the cold-legged tribe, plotting the end of patriarchy, sipping our tea. We are but the brief flowerings of humanity’s great mycelium, we are the two-handed mug holders, but there is Gaia and Medea and Medusa and all the water in the world on our side, flowing and shifting and carving new paths.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s