Am I under stress right now? Probably. Sometimes a COVID anxiety attack strikes—not so much the specter of me contracting the coronavirus, but just the effects it’s had on everyone’s lives, and so life in general.

It’s a free-floating anxiety and I can never identify it specifically; it’s just something ineffable that hangs over everything that’s broken now, all the things we used to do without a second thought, like pulling up a bar stool. Frank, a fine British gentleman who was charged with accompanying me on various book-signing events by the publisher, always used to say at the conclusion of a signing, “Fancy a pint?” and off we’d go to the nearest crowded public house. I miss Frank and crowded public houses.

My Long Beach Post staff-mandated project for today was either to make a wallet out of duct tape or give meditation a whirl.

On days like today, when I’m worrying about whether Jasper’s front left paw is merely injured and will heal or has cancer and will need a biopsy and amputation of a toe, as well as a host of other miscellaneous fretting, I didn’t think making a wallet would do me any good, so I shoved meditation to the top of my to-do list. Plus, this particular project was assigned by Managing Editor Melissa Evans, who’s as willowy as she is adamant about these daily betterment mandates.

She recommended I try Gaiam, for beginners, but the site looked a little too… I don’t know, yoga-y for my needs. I’ve sworn off yoga for the duration of the COVID lockdown, for what are, probably, obvious reasons.

I just wanted to breathe, relax, tune-out, re-screw my head on properly, and ideally, I wanted that without sitar ragas boinging in the background.

Instead, I employed the meditative services of Headspace, a Santa Monica-based business co-founded by a former Buddhist monk and his partner, who has a background in marketing and new brand development. It seemed like a decent hybrid of a professional-grade meditation expert and a guy who knows how to pander to the public, in this case, me. And the company seemed to be hyper-aware that COVID is a chief sort of stress and a good target for meditation.

Heck, it’s only just my psychic well-being at stake. I checked in for a free, 10-minute meditation exercise at Headspace. It begins and centers chiefly on breathing, as most meditation gurus do. I sat in a comfortable chair looking out the window, paying hypnotic attention to my breathing: long inhales through the nose, long exhales through the mouth. Next, I was told to close my eyes and let my mind do whatever it wanted to do which wasn’t much. It was all tied up with breathing. I was instructed to experience my body, feel the breathing, forget my mind, let it romp in the meadows of COVID isolation, check it to see if it wants to order lunch from the Habit or one of Brian Addison’s recommended burger spots.

The meditation session was enjoyable and refreshing, and it could very well have a place in my “new normal” life. “Now, gently open your eyes” my guide said, so I did and sat there waiting for what I was supposed to do next, but my guide had split without so much as a TTYL. So that was sort of abrupt.

Back on this physical plane, Hannah wanted The Habit, so that’s what we ordered.

After lunch, I continued my project from Melissa, who ordered me to come up with five things I’m grateful for.

She didn’t say they had to be in order, so they’re not, but riding high on my gratitude list these days is my daughter, who’s my co-isolationist (that is if you can be said to have a partner and still be in isolation) and personal photographer and who remains in good health.

My wife, Jane, who not only has to work during the pandemic, but has to grapple with my complaints when she comes home. We have cocktails every evening, and I’m grateful for that calm moment we have in the midst of the storm.

My son, Ray (couldn’t I have just put these three under one category titled “My Family?” Yes but I’m trying to fill up space.) Ray is another essential worker, and his health is a source of my worries these days when I’m not meditating.

I’m grateful that my sister Debi survived a severe case of COVID, spending several days in ICU at Memorial Medical Center.

My place of employment. Seriously—I mean I’ll probably get a raise for saying this, but that’s not the reason I’m putting it in my list of gratitude (which, remember, isn’t in order, this could actually be No. 1; you don’t know.). After more than 4 decades working for another news organization here in town, I joined the Post 2 years ago, and I couldn’t possibly be happier with the way things have worked out. The Post (and now Long Beach Business Journal) people are way up high among the friendliest and most talented people I’ve worked with.

Namaste and gracias, y’all.