“The Dis-Quints:” Disoriented. Discouraged. Disheartened. Disconcerted. and Disorganized: These feelings have become such constant companions as the pandemic drags on that I finally gave them their own name!
“Disoriented” is the leader of the pack, the forerunner of the step siblings. The pandemic has upended just about everything, leaving us at a loss about how to carry out even the most mundane parts of our everyday lives. Disorientation breeds breakdown.
I am coping, for sure, but at times I hardly recognize myself. I catch myself staring into space. I go from one room to another and then can’t remember why I’m there. Time goes by in a whole different way, unanswered for, somehow.
Yesterday, this message from a posting by Richard Rohr leapt out at me: “The psyche cannot live with everything changing every day. . . There must be a sound container holding us long enough so we can move beyond survival mode. There has to be solid ground . . .”
Solid ground: That’s the missing element at the moment. That is why the Dis-Quints showed up. They are searching for solid ground.
This sparked another connection for me. Perhaps my favorite choral piece ever is called The Ground. It’s from Sunrise Mass, a gorgeous work by contemporary Norwegian composer Ola Gjeilo. Gjeilo says, “I called it The Ground to imply a sense of having arrived at the end of the work; to reach a kind of peace and resolution . . . having passed through and internalized may different emotional landscapes.”
The synchronicity of his title and sentiments with the idea that solid ground is what I am seeking seems like a compelling reason to share this piece with you. Here’s a link, if you’d like to hear it:
Being reminded that the challenge is to look for something instead of trying to get rid of something changes the question. It’s not so much a matter of trying to pep-talk myself out of the Dis-Quints’ challenging messages as it is a matter of defining my solid ground. What holds me together from the inside out?
Pat, trite answers are of course the first things that come to mind, but I’m going to sit with this question. Quietly. Without rushing to judgment, avoiding the temptation to glom on to the first thing that occurs to me. Maybe that is where grounding starts. Let things be what they are, hard parts and all. Just be . . .