Temenos in the Time of Covid

 

Λυπουμαι γιατί άφησα να περάσει ενα πλατή ποτάμι μεσα απο τα δάχτυλα μου

χωρίς να πιώ ουτε μία στάλα

                                 Γεωργος Σεφέρης, Μυθηστόρημα 15

 

I regret that I let slip through my fingers a wide river without drinking a single drop

 

                                 George Seferis, Mithistorima 15

 

 

Acropolis, February 2009

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Temenos, a family journal born in 2009 during our young family’s sabbatical year in Greece, has lain dormant for all of twenty-three months. Our family blog exists for Greece, by Greece, and in Greece. It goes quiet when we are back home in rural, eastern Maine—which is the other “most amazing place on earth.”

 

Temenos—this blog—is the anchor for just one piece of our family’s life adventure: our time in Greece.

But it is a narrative that has been quieted by circumstance.

On October 20, 2019, I closed the door to our little sanctuary, our physical temenos in a quiet corner of the southern Peloponnese, perched in an olive grove, above the cobalt Mediterranean. I set off on the long highway to Athens: my Hellenic batteries restored for another Downeast Maine winter, assured about returning a mere six months later.

Then Covid-19 appeared, stealthily circling the globe at the close of 2019. A little understood virus built grievous, relentless, and deadly momentum in the ensuing months. It brought death and illness, political rancor, human frailty, and ultimately sorrow. The pandemic has reordered our lives. The suffering, the loss of life, the disbelief (and unbelief) of so many humans—it is all so incalculable. The pandemic lingers, bringing havoc to the people of Earth. And, sadly, it receives no epitaph here.

Nearly two years have passed. Our empty pint-sized house sits like a mini Buddha in its mountain pasture. Temenos in the time of Covid..

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The essence of the ancient Greek word temenos—meaning sanctuary, temple, or shrine—persists inside of us. We are here today.

Being is a gift, however ugly the window-dressing might sometimes be. Like many, we mourn the incalculable loss but we also celebrate the precious gifts, which are far greater, more enduring, and life-affirming: family, friendship, and the richness of the natural world.

In mid-September the hiatus ends as Evyenia and I set off on the long road to that little sanctuary by the sea—father and daughter on the road to Temenos.

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“If we’re not amazed, we’re not paying attention.”

                 —Jon Kabat-Zinn