http://countocram.com/2024/03/07/wewjxo1p Well, so, here we are. That time of year when the Sun crosses the celestial equator and those of us in the northern hemisphere begin tilting toward the sun.

Online Tramadol Mastercard Thanks to some super smart, left-brained people, we know the Vernal Equinox will occur this year on March 19. And also thanks to those people, we know this is the earliest occurrence in 124 years.

https://www.jamesramsden.com/2024/03/07/1odalif2 Typically, in the days and weeks following this official launch into spring, the general population is filled with extra endorphins from the warm sun shining upon our faces. Then we pour out into streets and festivals and restaurants and theatres and campuses smiling, laughing, hugging, kissing, throwing frisbees, and maybe even playing guitar with the thrill of new beginnings in the air.

But we all know nothing is typical right now.

https://www.goedkoopvliegen.nl/uncategorized/w19by6w40

https://wasmorg.com/2024/03/07/2g7ugt66l

https://www.mominleggings.com/dr77wuquqk Instead, the general population, filled with concerns and the unknown, is hunkering down.

https://worthcompare.com/c536vfq2hc Rightfully so, we’re canceling concerts and plays and flea markets and sporting events and fundraisers and parties and vacations and switching to online classes and meetings in a collective effort to slow and “flatten” the Coronavirus curve.

https://ncmm.org/pueqdsjfx9k (Feeling the sunshine on your face, smiling, laughing, and playing the guitar are still highly encouraged, of course.)

https://fotballsonen.com/2024/03/07/ngtsw9angk I’ll be honest. Early on, as I watched and listened to the news of the virus hitting closer and closer to my home state of Minnesota, my first thoughts weren’t exactly global:

https://asperformance.com/uncategorized/wny5jfs7og They were more along these lines:

https://musiciselementary.com/2024/03/07/z0esd96gap ♦ Oh crap, are we going to have to cancel our spring break trip? (Yep. We did.)

https://www.worldhumorawards.org/uncategorized/gwo5idm ♦  Are we going to be able to get a refund? (Still working on it.)

https://ncmm.org/qfts35wwkt ♦  I sure hope they don’t shut down my daughter’s college campus. She loves it there.  (Sigh . . . in-person classes are now canceled. She’ll be packing her bags soon.)

♦  If they close the middle school and high school, too, I’m gonna go nuts. How will I get anything done? (Here we go. They just made the big announcement as I wrote that sentence.)

https://giannifava.org/upeqo8cxob8 ♦ My husband works in an Emergency Room. Is he going to be required to work even more? (TBD.)

♦  Just my luck, this is all happening right before the release of my new book. Will I need to cancel my launch event? (Yep. Canceled.)

Ordering Tramadol From India But eventually, as I strive to do in my daily life with or without COVID-19, I remembered the world does not revolve around me.

Tramadol Medication Online It revolves around the sun.

And while revolving around the sun, it carries you, me, and more than 7.5 billion other people.

And each one of those people has potential losses, disappointments, and hardships from all this, too. And I’m positive most of theirs are far greater than mine.

Tramadol Online Cod Fedex To be certain, though, COVID-19 is no match for the Vernal Equinox.

https://www.jamesramsden.com/2024/03/07/d5lcv6v24j Winter-whites will still be swapped for dark greens.

Paypal Tramadol Harsh winds will still be swapped for gentle, warm breezes tousling through our hair.

Birds will still fill the sky with their songs.

Yellow and purple wildflowers will still rise from the earth.

https://asperformance.com/uncategorized/ggg410xkwrq COVID-19 is also no match for a general population that stays vigilant and steps up for the greater good.

And there is evidence of individuals stepping up all over the place:

♦ They’re checking on elderly neighbors and texting, calling, and FaceTiming friends and family to let them know they’re thinking about them.

♦ They’re offering their surpluses and services to those who might lose their jobs, see their hours cut back, or need to find new childcare.

♦ They’re donating to local food shelves.

♦ They’re contributing to local arts organizations that are in financial danger due to canceled exhibits and performances.

♦ They’re supporting neighborhood restaurants by ordering gift cards.

♦ They’re making good use of what’s already in the freezer vs. running out to grab more.

♦  They’re purchasing only what they truly need and leaving those last few packages of toilet paper or boneless chicken breasts for the next person who may not be able to run around to different stores. (Clearly, though, we need a little work on this particular point.)

♦ A friend of mine has started posting on social media her small but daily online purchase, such as a bracelet, from favorite local shops that are experiencing a slump in sales.

♦ And to top it all off, today, my 14-year-old, feeling a little cooped up, put down her iPhone and asked me to play ping-pong, and my 16-year-old son offered to walk the dog!!!

If each one of these examples is not proof that the general population is tilting toward the sun, then I don’t know what is.

While writing this post, I received a text from my friend Betsy that included an incredible reflection written by a woman I do not know. Her name is Gurpreet Gill.  In a part of that reflection, Gill asks:

“What if . . .

the virus is here to help us?

To reset. To remember.

What is truly important . . .

What if?”

Hmmm. Quite a perspective. What if?

This post has since been republished on Grown and Flown. 

I’m Julie Jo Severson, mom to three teens, freelance journalist, editor, coauthor of Here In the Middle, and author of the newly released Secret Twin Cities: A Guide to the Weird, Wonderful, and Obscure.This blog, Carvings on a Desk, is where I reconnect with my own voice swirling around in the middle. Subscribe and receive the occasional stories in your inbox. Read other recent posts.