In the box of groceries I got on Sunday was a loaf of sliced white bread. My first thought was, “what am I going to do with this bread?” I haven’t eaten sliced white bread since foster care days. Once I got out, I considered it like prison food- cheap, lacking in substance, really not very healthy. As an adult I choose a heartier, seeded bread because I knew I should, even though, I never really liked it. I figured I’d pass on the bread or maybe find a way to cook with some of it and freeze the rest. I haven’t made bread of my own since week one of quarantine. Later that night I suddenly remembered what a PB&J on white bread tastes like, like everything and nothing at the same time. Creamy peanut butter on both side of the bread, the jelly free to move around in the middle, it was light and fluffy, salty and sweet, goes down easy but also sticks to the roof of your mouth. I made one just like that for dessert, indulging my most entitled inner child with cut crusts and square quarters . As I ate it, I ran my tongue around the edges to catch the drippings, licked my fingers, cleaned my teeth, same method. Maybe it was the exercise of the whole thing, the motions of it, more than the taste that could satisfy, on a cellular level, the craving for nostalgia.
Speaking of the best thing since sliced bread… Jane Goodall! Im adding her to the list of people I would invite to my dinner party (you know the imaginary one where you get to invite 5 people or something, dead or alive.) You invite people you would like to spend time with, some people choose Jesus or other large political or religious leaders but I like to consider the group. Would Robin Williams and Amelia Earhart get along? Would Bob Marley and Mark Twain have common ground? I always imagine myself a passive observe in the presence of such greatness, which brings me back to Jane. For Earth Day I watched her documentary titled “The Hope.” I knew what most knew about her- British blond bombshell, enraptured by chimpanzees and in turn, enrapturing. She became a beloved environmental activist. A Mr. Rogers whose neighborhood is all of Africa. Who doesn’t want to be like Jane Goodall? A perpetual warmth, compassion, passion and drive that is awe inspiring. She made friends with the people who should be her enemies- the heads of oil companies and animal research labs, because what always comes first, is the work, its the animals.
Jane was on Jimmy Fallon’s show yesterday for the 50th Anniversary of Earth Day and she said right now, on lock down, is “a time for reflection and thinking about the part we want to play in the future of our planet.” And in that she recognizes the interconnectedness of humans and animals and how this was predicted. That the selling and trading and loss of habitat for wild animals and she used the word disrespect repeatedly, has lead to the cross over of disease from animals to humans. Jimmy seemed to wrap up the conversation quickly as I think he was hoping for an interview he could show to his kids. The documentary is powerful because it shows the seeming effortless respect that Jane commands and the clarity of her message. The message is- everyone is important, has some role to play in the movement.
I have to admit it has been hard for me to focus these past couple of days, I had most of this written yesterday but couldn’t sit down. Even now, in the middle of writing about Jane I stopped to find recent youtube video about her, while also eating an apple with peanut butter and casually filing my nails. I wanted to continue on about white bread sandwiches but it didn’t hold together.
I think I know where my restlessness is coming from but, I haven’t been able to approach it and you can’t selectively sit. I just wrote it all out and then erased it. It was exhausting to try to put down and to think about.
I went for a long run yesterday, and while I kept a good clip, got red in the face and powdery with sweat, I couldn’t even begin to approach the feelings this interaction left me with. It threatened to compound the shame I battle constantly, never feeling like what I am doing is enough- for the earth, for the people in my life, for society, for myself. It was like a can of gasoline that suddenly found its way too close to a fire, the fear I have of going back into society. Ive mentioned before that quarantine is a relief because I feel fundamentally unsafe around almost all people.
Jane said that you do all you know you can do so you can die and be ok with that. Thinking about it in those terms helps me to remember what I am doing and why I am doing it and to be ok with it. It helps me shirk the shame and projection of others. It helps combat the “never enough” trap that sandbags my ability to be productive, to build on what I am creating and to pull myself together enough to buy some plants. I used to think I could save the world by myself and in moments of grandiosity, I still do but I lost any real hope along the way, in myself and in other people. Jane often references saving the world, like that is what she is doing, but she is doing it by believing in people. She understands the interconnectedness of us all. She knows the oil companies and the villagers who cutting down trees for firewood, that they aren’t going to just stop, they need an alternative for their livelihood. Chimp sanctuaries and forest corridors are like methodone clinics- better, necessary for now, but we’d prefer not to need them.
Maybe the white bread is getting to my head because this post has completely fallen apart. On another note, Ive stopped eating cheese, yogurt and milk and my diarrhea has decreased substantially. Doing my part, so.