This is just a taste of what the country has been dealing with. The leadership of the governors of most states (not every!) has been exemplary...and the president has been the fool who thinks he's a dictator and can do whatever he wants. But he's wily, so whenever he goes off on a tangential issue, I am aware that there's probably something being hidden in plain sight. I beg of all of my readers that you vote him out of office in November. By then he may have strangled the system so much in his quest for power, that it's difficult to have a fair election. I hope I'm wrong about that.
"N.C. Department of Health and Human Services has tested 63,388 residents and confirmed 4,816 cases and 86 deaths." Mountain Express, April 14, 2020
I've started taking photos of the numbers. As Buncombe County, where I live, had only 38 cases, and 3 deaths so far, I'm glad so many people are staying away from each other to "Flatten The Curve." UPDATE: April 19, now 47 cases in Buncombe County.
What the number means is that more people are being Tested and have a positive result. There are many people who are sick who may have been tested but not received the results yet. And many people who haven't even been tested at all.
The number I listen for most nights is how many have recovered from Covid-19. These people will be the key to treatment going forward, the successful living people who weathered the storm.
And the later updates:
Wed. April 15 CBS national and local ABC news
632,800 in the US, with 27,800 who have died. These people all left loved ones to grieve for them, after not being able to say goodbye because of the quarantine.
Quote for today:
Some of our deepest wounds,
Are judgments, self-inflicted,
Endless paper cuts upon our spirit,
Made by an inherently imperfect 'self',
Despising its imperfection.
When in fact, the green-stemmed fruit,
The infant petals in a sheltering bud,
Are as they should be, in their time,
On schedule to arrive, in their time,
In this Dream of passing seasons.
For here, in The Garden of Time,
What is not yet, becomes what is,
And what is, becomes what was,
And our manifest Being, ever ripening,
Is not yet, now, as it will be, then.
On this Path of Love and Surrender,
Tend gently the seedling of the Heart,
Doing the needful, as you are able,
But then Surrender, giving yourself over,
Sweet unripened...
To The Beloved Gardner.
Are judgments, self-inflicted,
Endless paper cuts upon our spirit,
Made by an inherently imperfect 'self',
Despising its imperfection.
When in fact, the green-stemmed fruit,
The infant petals in a sheltering bud,
Are as they should be, in their time,
On schedule to arrive, in their time,
In this Dream of passing seasons.
For here, in The Garden of Time,
What is not yet, becomes what is,
And what is, becomes what was,
And our manifest Being, ever ripening,
Is not yet, now, as it will be, then.
On this Path of Love and Surrender,
Tend gently the seedling of the Heart,
Doing the needful, as you are able,
But then Surrender, giving yourself over,
Sweet unripened...
To The Beloved Gardner.
Chuck Surface
In The Garden of The Beloved Facebook
In The Garden of The Beloved Facebook
