Quarantine Self Care Ideas From Team Luna Luna

BY LUNA LUNA

We’ve taken a pause these past nearly two months. Slowed the publication schedule. Slowed our hearts down. We’ve been nourishing, connecting, and trying our best. Every day is a new struggle. Some of us create. Some of us rest. Some of us work. Some of us eagerly await the day when we can do so again. Some of us feel anxious. Some of us feel numb. There is no one right way to be, feel, think, or manage the difficulty and terror of grief, isolation, and a lack of finances and normalcy.

To add just a bit of luminosity to the world, our team shares a few things we’ve been doing — whether it’s an act or nothing at all — to get through the hard times. Hopefully, they can inspire or reaffirm your own ideas and thoughts.

KAILEY TEDESCO

Since the quarantine began I feel like I’ve awakened to an entirely different, yet totally consuming, emotion each morning. Some days are so anxious. Some are calm. Some are lethargic. I’ve been trying to do at least one meaningful act of self-care that helps me work through whatever’s going on in my mind. Some days it’s writing poems or baking or taking a long walk in the woods with my dog. Other days, it’s spending two hours in the bathtub with a graphic novel or lying in bed, watching Beetlejuice for the five millionth time. I’m trying to be gentle with myself, but that’s, of course, not as easy as it sounds. I hope that everyone out there is taking care of themselves as best as they can. 

MONIQUE QUINTANA

I have been keeping a diary where I write to my ancestors. While I love my family and friends, sometimes it helps to speak to people outside my present time and space. I write to my ancestors because I know that they would always want what is best with me. Making contact with my ancestors helps me with things such as loving and accepting my body when it is ailing or when I am not feeling confident about the way I look.  This also helps me to tap into my ancestral knowledge and power because it keeps me mindful of the tenacity of my people. Their achievements are a source of energy that I can still make good use of. 

Lisa Marie Basile

I’ve been feeling the ups and downs very strongly. Grief is the foundational layer. A grief for our world, for my city, for humanity. My anxiety and general feeling of powerlessness is at an all-time high, so I’ve been relying on a few things to help me manage the tidal waves:

1. ASMR. I really enjoy the soft, quiet, gentle personal attention of ASMR. It’s me and one person and a few soft sounds, and it creates a universe that I just can fall softly into — blurring out the outside world. If you hate ASMR, Calm app’s “Sleep Stories” (their train stories are amazing) are excellent for a gentle bedtime.

2. CBD oil. I’ve been taking CBD baths to take the extreme edge off both my thinking and my chronic pain (which flares during stress). I recommend Bluebell Botanicals and Baked Beauty Co.

3. Ritual journaling. I light a few candles, call upon an archetype and write. What would that archetype ask me? What would I say in response? The trick is be radically honest and open.

4. Dance. I’ve been turning to dance as a method of stress relief for years, but it really helps to build a cacoon of physicality and ecstatic aliveness. Dua Lipa, Banks, and Lizzo are my go-tos.

5. Glamour. I’ve been dressing up each week as a different archetype. So far I’ve embraced the looks of Cleopatra/Grecian beauty and Baroque/Dolce & Gabanna. It’s a way to be embodied and present — and to have fun.

JOANNA C. VALENTE

For me, the routine is everything. So is setting intentions and trying to be mindful. I make sure to pick out an outfit and get ready everyday because fashion has been a source of joy for me my entire life. Dressing up gets me excited to start the day, and it's also a way I express myself. This makes the day feel more grounded, and less like I'm living in some alternate reality.

The now is now - and it's important for me to prioritize that as a way to be connected to myself and the world. I also tend to draw a tarot card every day for guidance and reflection, to continue my fulfillment journey. Am I on the path I'm supposed to be? Am I being self-aware? Besides that, cooking every meal with my partner, making a point t work on a creative project even just a little every day. These are ways I put myself first in a humanistic way - in a way that focuses on my own truths and meaning. As the editor of Yes Poetry, I've made sure to maintain our daily schedule -and add weekly online courses people can take. The courses have been a fun and thoughtful way to work and interact with others.

Of course, I also try to talk to friends every day in some capacity, which is something I've always done - along with the usual skincare routines. Mostly, I just try to live the way I did before as much as possible and focus on what I can do, rather than what I can't. 

TRISTA EDWARDS

Quarantine is strange. On a day-to-day basis, my mental state fluctuates with my thoughts and emotions oscillating between that of comfort at being cocooned in my home and feeling the steady throb of dread and fear of uncertainty. On those days, the days when the weight of relentless anxiety overwhelms me to the point of tears, I do what a lot of people seem to be doing right now— 

I get outside in the sun. I walk around my neighborhood with my dogs. I jog to loud, aggressive music. I take my four-month-old baby outside so he can touch trees, grass, dirt, pavement.

I bake. Right before quarantine, I coincidently began a journey into ancestor exploration in the kitchen. I sought out recipes, familial and regional, of my paternal side (Southern Appalachia) and my maternal side (Western Pennsylvania). I forged a connection with my paternal side and have been obsessively cooking different variations of cornbread every week.

I tidy. Nothing may be more soothing to me than tidying. Cleaning, tidying, and arranging objects has always subdued my anxiety in that it gives me some semblance of control.

I practice self-care. I hate running. I’ve tried many, many times over the years to “be a runner” and only made it a day or two before abandoning the endeavor. Now, I’m on week four and oddly, for me, craving my evening jog. I get out of my head. I get in my body. My body craves the movement. My mind craves the alternative focus. And then after my jog, post-shower, I put on my favorite perfume. Who says you can’t put on a sensuous fragrance just for yourself right before bed? Scent instantly calms me and alters my mood. 

TIFFANY ALEXANDER

I was definitely one of those who thought the stay at home order might actually be a boon. I would finish a chapbook or two, and maybe even come up with ideas for other chaps. Ha! Well,l I didn’t count on certain factors like having to face the reality of the pandemic every day at work and let’s just say I was BLOCKED. But one thing that helped was my writing prompts. I’ve put together quite a few in hopes of putting together a little book and I’d love to share one with you.

This one came to me after a friend posted one of his photos on Instagram. It is a simple shot of a window screen with a tear in it. You can just see through to the street and to the left and right, is just blurred:

Tear

Prompt: Imagine this window is your window, and the hole, a view to your backyard, or a friend’s backyard. What do you see? You can write down what is in your point of view or create your own landscape. I did a bit of both. I started sharp, than honed in even more, but you could begin with the barely seen and go sharp. Or the barely seen and go more vague?

This is what I came up with:

Mom is in the front yard

on her knees, stacking rocks

in front of the roses—

She saw a cairn on sale

in Marshalls for $6.99 earlier,

threw it to the ground and

walked away smiling.

And now she is in the backyard,

on her second stack, wobbling

on damp knees—and I am fixing

her a cup of tea, the only thing

she wanted from me—

The poem is far from perfect and may never go far as this page, but that is okay.

5 Gentle Work From Home Tips When Times Are Tough

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

Working from home, especially due to the Coronavirus quarantine, asks us to come up with gentle work and focus strategies that integrate rest, creativity, socialization, and self-kindness.

I’ve been a full-time, work from home freelancer for the past two years — a reality that has its beautiful ups, lonely downs, immense privileges (freedom, the ability to care for my chronic illness) and intense drawbacks (health insurance issues, pay cycle problems). I have learned what works and what doesn’t, and have felt everything from the sting of isolation to the beauty of taking a yoga-with-my-cat break.

First, let’s address the stigma around working from home. People sometimes think work-from-home employees are lazy, aren’t actually working or can sleep all day and take two-hour lunches. That we aren’t stressed or concerned for money (?!). In short, it’s true that there is great privilege in working from home, but work is work. And the best freelancers know that it’s not a free-for-all nor an opportunity to slack off. It requires delicate balance and recalibration, just as any job does.

Now that so many of us are working from home due to COVID-19, I’m hearing people say that it’s not as easy as it seems — that they feel frustrated, cooped up, adrift, unable to focus, at a loss for routine, undisciplined, lonely, and [insert adjective]. But more than that, everyone is trying to focus as a deluge of frightening news reports roll in.

In response, here are some ways to holistically and gently integrate work, life, and today’s changing reality.

Adapt to change mindfully.

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How do we adjust to all of this rapid change? In one week, we’re dining out and seeing friends. The next, we’re losing our jobs, in our houses all day every day, and stocking up on food. It’s a lot. We have to mindfully navigate these changes. Now’s the time to take stock of what’s important to you day to day (talking to friends? Eating healthfully?). You’ll also want to keep (or adapt) routines that feel healthy and comforting (eating a healthy breakfast? Doing yoga each day for one hour?) and make your house the safe space you need in order to comfort you through anxious, dark, and isolating moments. Keep what feels good to you, and build from there, integrating your workspace tools and job duties into your home-life. Some ideas:

• Create one specific space where you work. This creates a healthy separation between work and life. Make it as similar as you can to your office space.

• Prioritize daily tasks. Besides work, what else matters? What do you do ‘normally?’ Try to adapt those same behaviors. For example, I swim once per day, usually in the morning. I can’t in quarantine, so instead, I plan to do a workout at that same hour. For those of you who take a break at the office around 12, try to replicate that at home. Creating mirrored actions helps us make sense of rapid change, and you can always switch them out if you find something else you like to do better!

• If you feel like you’re missing out on a post-work routine (a local pub, hanging with a friend, walking around the park before heading home), try to create a similar-ish routine you can do when you close the computer — and do close the computer. Working from home is not an invite to work all night, even if it seems tempting.

Building a morning ritual to soothe the nervous system.

Because you don’t have a built-in routine — up at 7, on the train by 8, at the desk by 9, for example — you have to create your own routine. This is where discipline comes in. If you don’t want to work all damn day and night, or you want to leave time for projects and pleasures, you’ll need to work from your set hours. Sure, you might snag an extra 45 minutes of sleep, but being at your computer in the morning (if that’s what’s expected of you or not) can help create a sense of responsibility.

Start your morning with a ritual: stretching, pulling a tarot card, meditating, making a cup of coffee, listening to some music as you shower, standing at the window or porch and absorbing the light, and slowly logging on. Go inward. Wake up your senses. Be deliberate and soothing. It’s especially important now to be a little slower, be a little more intentional. Your parasympathetic nervous system may already be shot, so it’s important to show your body that the morning can be soft and calm. You want to set your day’s tone with self-kindness.

Rest when you need to. Seriously.

One of the benefits of working from home is the ability to simply lay down for 15 — vertically, at a window, wherever. You don’t have to hide-nap in a stall at the office. Even though we have bills to pay (those of us who are privileged to keep our jobs right now, of course), now is the time to balance our ability to do more with resting.

In a sense, the earth is asking us a serious question. The earth is asking us to slow down, to listen, to be more in-tune, to stop pushing so hard — our bodies, the planet, our factories, our workers, our minds. To just be. To just be. Because we are not infallible. We are not eternal. We are natural things that have become selfish enough to think we are omnipotent. We are not. We, like trees, need water and light and time to grow. We bend toward others. We have a language. We bloom. We rot. We are bearing witness, as witness trees do, to the doom that can happen when we don’t listen or care for others.

Working from home, especially during a quarantine time when you’d ordinarily be out or meeting friends or at business meetings, may feel like an invitation to finally do and be everything. To finally learn Spanish. To finally finish that novel. And while these things may comfort you in the dark moments, capitalism’s greedy hands ought not make us feel we’re not being or doing enough.

Do what you can to survive. But rest. Heed the earth and sleep if you need to — especially if you’re sick. Take the time to breathe. To be alive. To watch your animals gaze up at the sunlight through a window.

Build focus by integrating movement, art, and breath into your day.

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You’re working from home. You’re trying to focus. You’re reading the news, crying, and then trying to Slack your boss in some sort of legible manner. They are probably home trying to be a good boss, trying to stop the kids from crying, trying to do their best, too. The Pomodoro technique is one I’ve been using since forever because it’s doable, forgiving, and realistic. I used to do it in the office, but now I do it even more at home, where distractions are abundant.

The Pomodoro technique allows us 25 minutes of focus, and then a short break. After that, I will do something soothing. I’ll do a few minutes of yoga, watch a few minutes of ASMR, doodle carelessly into a journal, or do a breathing practice (breath in for 4 seconds, hold the breath for 7 seconds, and exhale for 8 seconds). I also created a sacred writing prompt journey (for free!) here, if you prefer to write.

While this may seem pandering or ridiculous (after all, humans need to work!), the reality is this: We won’t do our best if we can’t focus, if we’re chaotically stressed, if we’re giving our all to a job and not taking care of ourselves — especially in a time of crisis.

Create time for socializing.

For people in offices, endless meetings can take a toll. They can usually be summed up in an email, anyway, right? At WeWorks, we duck into telephone booths as if any human interaction will cause us to explode. We’re over-saturated. But in quarantine, we’re suddenly forced to listen to our own footsteps, missing the human interaction of a normal workaday. Even when we’re not working, the missing becomes extra real. We are social creatures. Here’s what you can do:

• Organize a FaceTime chat with a friend or friends

• Start a group text with friends to share funny pictures or memes

• Send videos versus texts with friends. Seeing faces helps our brains feel more connected.

• Write a long letter or email to a friend

• Watch YouTube vlogs; even having a voice in the background is helpful psychologically

• Do a poetry readings or Q&A session on Instagram

• Schedule a phone call with someone special once or twice a week

• Start a Facebook group for a specific community

• Dive into the land of podcasts

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Lisa Marie Basile is the founding creative director of Luna Luna Magazine, a popular magazine & digital community focused on literature, magical living, and identity. She is the author of several books of poetry, as well as Light Magic for Dark Times, a modern collection of inspired rituals and daily practices, as well as The Magical Writing Grimoire: Use the Word as Your Wand for Magic, Manifestation & Ritual. Her work focuses heavily on trauma recovery, writing as a healing tool, chronic illness, everyday magic, and poetry. She's written for or been featured in The New York Times, Refinery 29, Self, Chakrubs, Marie Claire, Narratively, Catapult, Sabat Magazine, Bust, HelloGiggles, Best American Experimental Writing, Best American Poetry, Grimoire Magazine, and more. She's an editor at the poetry site Little Infinite as well as the co-host of Astrolushes, a podcast that conversationally explores astrology, ritual, pop culture, and literature. Lisa Marie has taught writing and ritual workshops at HausWitch in Salem, MA, Manhattanville College, and Pace University. She is also a chronic illness advocate, keeping columns at several chronic illness patient websites. She earned a Masters's degree in Writing from The New School and studied literature and psychology as an undergraduate at Pace University. You can follow her at @lisamariebasile and @Ritual_Poetica.

Coronavirus Anxiety and The Practice Of Sitting In Uncertainty

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

In my Amenti Oracle Deck, I pull the card for I am peaceful. I asked the deck, of course, what I was supposed to take away from this experience in quarantine. I’m just human. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’m ready to learn a lesson. I do know that, as a writer, I am compelled to write it all down. To take notes through this thing. To keep a diary of what I’ve seen. I have a feeling this will shape us. Maybe I want to be present for it.

I know that for all of us, it’s been hours and hours of dread through insomnia-filled nights perusing the web, guzzling every wave of new information, letting the anxiety take over. I know that in our private Luna Luna community group, there’s a lot of worry. Everyone, the globe over, is panicking, and you can feel it. From space, I wonder if you can feel a buzzing strange energy emanating through our atmosphere. I wonder if you can feel it through all sorts of tragedies.

I am currently experiencing all the symptoms — perhaps it’s the flu or bronchitis. Perhaps worry leads me to be sicker than I should be. I sit in bed or wander my apartment, wondering how best to handle this new normal. Looking outside at New York City, its streets empty and silent (but it’s pubs still full at night, people’s faces inches from one another, before the city finally closed itself down), I wonder what the earth is trying to tell us.

I wonder why we are so resistant and stubborn. I wonder why we think ourselves invincible. Is the fear of death itself so big and so deep that we run toward it?

If you live with an immunocompromised body as I do, at some point you stop clutching illusions of infallibility. You have learned some time ago that your body is an engine running on wayward wheels. You have learned to avoid the subway poles and handshakes. You have learned that each day is a new preciousness. And if you’re anyone else, you probably have a friend or a lover or a parent or grandparent who is at high risk of getting very sick if they do contract a virus, or this virus.

The body is a fragile ephemeral thing, and it must bend toward the pew of nature. And yet, we resist, making it hard to survive.

My point is that we have to lean into this new situation. We have to or else we disappear. We literally have to because there is no other choice. We have to face that this is dark and hard and there will be (and is) global grief at the end of it all.

We’ve seen the memes about our grandparents going to war, which are somehow supposed to shame us into feeling comfortable during quarantine? I think it’s a false correlation. We can honor and respect history and the tragedies that have occurred while being uncomfortable with the things that befall our societies today. It isn’t just about quarantine or being bored inside the house or watching Netflix or reading books. It’s about watching how society reacts to chaos, how politicians act too late or use xenophobic language during an outbreak, about the power of contagion and how ignorance and selfishness lead to community spread. It’s about infrastructure, school children not going to school, poor people not being able to buy food, homeless people having no shelter-in-place, shelves being completely empty, people who have lack of accessibility, elderly people without family. It’s about not being sure. It’s about uncertainty. It’s about death. And it’s about grief, which we haven’t, as a global community, even dealt with yet.

There is so much validity in being fearful and anxious during this time.

If you are out there wondering what will happen, wondering how we got to this point, you’re not alone. If you are watching videos of beautiful Chinese or Italian people singing out of their windows or on their balconies into empty streets, their voices echoing through the night in act of communal conjuring, you are not alone.

What the Amenti Oracle card told me about being peaceful was this:

Finding peace and stillness in the midst of chaos is a challenge, but it’s one that we must meet. We can choose to spend the entire day in worry — and it would not be invalid if we did. Our finances, our health, and our stability are at risk. But we can also choose to take back a few minutes for ourselves, to sit in silence, to just be alive, to just surround ourselves with the things that bring us pleasure and joy.

Mine are books and plants. My cat. Blankets. I like to sit at the window and just look out, even if I just see another building. I like to write little notes. I like to set up an altar. I like to clean my space and give it love. I like to make tea and watch the heat dance above the liquid. I like to listen to the birds in the morning. I like to wonder what they’re thinking about all this free space.

I like to pretend that I am a stone in the sea. I am smooth and I am turned over and over and over again as I am moved by the waves. I have no choice but to be a creature of the sea. And that great dark mother, with all her mystery and all her might, pushes me about. But I am eternal and I am still whole. I can worry about the waves, or I can let them take me. There is value in both. There is value in anxiety — because it helps us grow and it helps us become empathic toward others. And there is value in stillness and acceptance and learning to fill the time alone or isolated, with nothingness. It’s not meant to be comfortable. It’s meant to be what it is, which is a breath, a pause, a being. An opportunity to just be — in between the shadows.

Maybe I don’t need to write it all down or understand it or provide thoughts or hope to others. Maybe I shouldn’t be writing this post. Maybe I just need to be, to lean into the unknowing and the mystery and uncertainty.

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Lisa Marie Basile is the founding creative director of Luna Luna Magazine, a popular magazine & digital community focused on literature, magical living, and identity. She is the author of several books of poetry, as well as Light Magic for Dark Times, a modern collection of inspired rituals and daily practices, as well as The Magical Writing Grimoire: Use the Word as Your Wand for Magic, Manifestation & Ritual. Her work focuses heavily on trauma recovery, writing as a healing tool, chronic illness, everyday magic, and poetry. She's written for or been featured in The New York Times, Refinery 29, Self, Chakrubs, Marie Claire, Narratively, Catapult, Sabat Magazine, Bust, HelloGiggles, Best American Experimental Writing, Best American Poetry, Grimoire Magazine, and more. She's an editor at the poetry site Little Infinite as well as the co-host of Astrolushes, a podcast that conversationally explores astrology, ritual, pop culture, and literature. Lisa Marie has taught writing and ritual workshops at HausWitch in Salem, MA, Manhattanville College, and Pace University. She is also a chronic illness advocate, keeping columns at several chronic illness patient websites. She earned a Masters's degree in Writing from The New School and studied literature and psychology as an undergraduate at Pace University. You can follow her at @lisamariebasile and @Ritual_Poetica.