On this day, where major, historic news holds the headlines, I can't write about that.
I'm not in that position and I can't control a single damn bit of it.
What I can control is something so small, so meaningless but yet gives me joy. I have loved watching my stupid little garden of herbs and lettuce and the singular tomato plant grow, as though they are my kids.
Psychological studies show gardening is a true stress reliever. Even in difficult times, blood pressure goes down. Dopamine levels rise.
I enjoy the watering process in the morning, even with a couple spots of failure, and like to check on them when I get home in the evening.
When I recently made a frittata for a friend, the best part was fresh basil and parsley from my little railing garden.
I've down a poor job of unpacking lately. Actually no job of unpacking lately. Don't judge me.
But I've been handling the stress with a little cooking and raising some herbs. And, oh, the tomato plant has some baby maters that will grow into some nice home-grown snacks in a short time.
In times of great, stress, Buddha has always suggested to look at something small. I've written before the story of when Buddha was cleaning his rice pot while a class waited. Buddha had burned some rice so it took some time. His assistant suggested he take over the task of washing the rice pot so Buddha could teach the waiting students. "What can I possibly teach," Buddha said, "if I cannot wash a rice pot?"
Peace unto Ukraine and peace and small joys unto you my brothers and sisters.