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  • Writer's pictureJulie Humphreys

Dear Friend in Lockdown,

Updated: May 31, 2022

Wow, it’s been a long time. How are you doing in this new era? This new day of dawning?

I roll through rage and resentment. Anger and self pity. Fear and reclusiveness. Shame. Optimism and hope. Cheer. High vibration.

It’s my physical body that is having the hardest time adjusting. About week three in lockdown, back in the middle of my skull, down my neck and radiating out to my shoulder blades, my angel wings… it’s dense. Tight. Thick layers of bound up muscle with no give. No flexibility. Constant pain. My legs are sore as if they don’t want to move anymore through this world. They want to hurry up to the other side of this world. My hips ache like an old woman on a rainy day. I am not an old woman. It is not raining today.

I turn to look left and feel a wince of pain down my shoulder, my angel wing (or so I’m told). I see my children on their chrome books, an eerily timely gift from relatives at Christmas. They have head phones on. One is listening to stories about immigrants and Ellis Island. Another is being taught math by a mouse. This is homeschooling, I guess. I don’t know. Do you?

I feel a sense of disappointment in myself that I am not “dealing” better. Are we all supposed to become fucking Van Gogh during this time? How often does one need to be reminded this is a hard time? When categories were important, I’ve used “light worker”. Well, I’ve learned that “this is the time we’ve been preparing for”. But isn’t that all the time? It’s all very confusing.

Like you, I say I am a “healer”. I used to be more confident in what that meant. Has that changed for you? I have been one to help others heal and show them their own magnificence. I am a vessel for spirit. I am, I am, I am….. sounds a lot like bah blah blah now. Lately I have been putting myself up on the cross instead of realigning with my Source and my ancestors. Like you, I have been thrown into a new reality. I can’t fit my needs, wants and desires in the day anymore. Is that what I was doing before all of this? I wait for everyone else to get what they need, then I try to muster the energy and sober motivation to “do me”. Is this postpartum all over again? It’s laughable, isn’t it? It really doesn’t make any sense of at all- the worry, the pain, the anxiety. It’s the destruction and removal of the ego- the part that gets in the way. I’ve begun to stop hearing myself complain.

Well, time for a new activity for the kids. It’s been 20 minutes. Someone told me that’s the threshold for learning at their ages.

I hope to see you soon. I hope to hug you and to have an intimate conversation over tea. I miss us laughing together and sharing moments of kindness and compassion through shared experiences.

Always your friend, Julie

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