Suffice it to say, it has been a weird, weird Spring. Frozen in a state of paralysis, I watched time first stand still, then rush down the corridor in a torrent. Weeks spilled into weekends into a space beyond the clock. Did I wake up at 6 am or 10 am? Did I even eat breakfast today?

A strict schedule, the setting of an alarm. That will bring the necessary structure missing from my days. But even those things, matched with an ambitious workout routine and a somewhat healthy diet, have not seemed to help really. The brain fog remains as uncertainty waggles just above our heads. Across the city, the country, the continent, the globe.

Reduced media consumption seems to help, or so I think. Until I reach for my iPhone once again in a desperate attempt to gain a foothold on reality with social connection gone missing since mid-March. I read too many tweets — like chomping on too much candy — hoping that just one more will make me feel better.

And yet it does not.

The five stages of grief settled markedly on my calendar as I observed my own struggle. First denial, then anger, then bargaining, then depression, then acceptance. If I am honest, I skipped anger for a long while and went straight to the negotiating table, only to realize I was arguing with myself and no one else. So I flounced about my limited surroundings, scrubbing toilets with a fury reserved for the deeply insane.

My apartment has never been so clean.

At moments when the anger returns, I am careful not to act on it in a social media setting. Too many conspiracy theorists have poisoned the well and I have been surprised at those whom I thought well-educated subscribing to many of them.

The intensity of life has been reduced to a handful of square feet and many of us are left feeling there is nowhere to go with it all.

I discovered the power of coloring mandalas yesterday. It requires deep concentration, yet provides a sense of flow and grace that no thumb-scrolling can.

Do you battle for surrender? Frankly, I am still at war with the world – surprisingly so. This crisis has brought out the best and the worst. Trying to adjust to a new normal when everything is changing is a great life lesson. Some days I feel as strong as the Northern Winds. On others I am knocked down by them.

In the face of adversity, Jack Canfield will ask: “What is it that I am supposed to learn from this?” I ask myself that question routinely now. We will get through it with the help that Slow’s power brings.

I surrender. I truly do. And should we come out stronger because of it, I will be grateful. In fact, I already am.