YNWA - = You'll Never Walk Alone

The iconic song has been sung by Liverpool Football Club supporters since the early 1960's. Its a perfect sentiment to contemplate and exhort during these corona virus times. 



This is the version that started it all, Gerry & the Pacemakers

You'll Never Walk Alone by Gerry and the Pacemakers


This version has to be included, the song sung after Liverpool's win over Tottenham in last years's Champions League Final.

After the 2019 Champions League Final



Liverpool and 95,000 football fans sing together in Australia. Feel free to skip to 4:07 for the song

Liverpool and 95,000 football fans sing together in Australia



Excerpt from the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra

Sung by Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra

Corona Virus Dashboards - Johns Hopkins and Samford University

Johns Hopkins Corona Virus Dashboard

Samford University Corona Virus Dashboard for ALABAMA

Warmest Recorded North American (land) Winter

The December 2019 through February 2020 timeframe experienced a 2.3 degree Celsius above normal. This ranks #1 in the list of winters over the past 140 years.

https://www.ncdc.noaa.gov/climate-monitoring/global/nhem/land/3

2019-2020 European Winter far warmer than recent winters

The Copernicus Climate Change Service published this chart and a document on twitter on March 8, 2020.  The obvious conclusion from the data is that this past winter was extraordinarily warm compared to the data points indicated since 1850.

More details can be found here:
https://climate.copernicus.eu/sites/default/files/2020-03/Supplementary%20text%20for%20winter%202019_2020_0.pdf

Fifty Year Precipitation Patterns by Season

Data from Dr. Brian Brettschneider, PhD in Climatology. Posted from his twitter account on March 8, 2020.

Some of these climate changes over the past half century are worrisome since this trend promises to disrupt peoples lives.

Note, the chart labeled Mar-Mar should have been Mar-May. 

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This is the fifty year annual (as opposed to seasonal) trend. 

The Breath of Life

I lay on the gurney early one morning first looking up at the ceiling and then forward to the wall, the wall which contained the screens with the read outs from my sensors.  Covered in white blankets lying on the white sheet of the gurney it was like being a subject for product photography. (A recollection of setting up the light box where all of the interiors were white) and the item being photographed situated in the middle crossed my mind.)  Not having any sleep the night before had taken it's toll on my body, and perhaps my mind as well.

The nurses had busied themselves when my wheels stopped rolling, attaching the O2 saturation sensor on my finger, the blood pressure (BP) cuff on my bicep. An IV, already implanted, was prepped for the infusion of propofol. Other preparations swirled around me, taking for granted that I would not rise up like Lazarus and stalk out of the room recoiling from the upcoming procedure. The BP cuff automatically tightened, a feeling that causes me to clench in resistance, which heightens the discomfort. I glance at the screen and see that my systolic pressure (the higher number) is as high as I've ever seen it, 160 mmHg. Wow! My anxiety increases just looking at the number.

The nurse asks me if I want to retain my glasses until the doctor arrives. I reply in the affirmative. (Its always good to see the person with whom you are conversing.) Then the memory arises. Its actually a couple of memories, one of which dates back to 1969.  In 1969 I got my hands on a book describing hatha yoga practices.  After coming home from High School and returning to my room at home I'd practice some of the asana (postures) and some of the pranayama (breathing). Over the decades since I've practiced hatha yoga either in classes or on my own. It's never been a major commitment of my time. However, its presence, like that of a good friend, always brought comfort. Over subsequent years I sought out other teachings as well. Teachings that concentrated on helping the body/mind heal. Healing from trauma is a process that can be enhanced or diminished. The practices I learned enhanced my healing and helped make me whole. Recalling those memories was comforting, but a mere recollection would not make a difference in my BP.

I began a breath meditation on the gurney, with slow inhalations and slow exhalations. It was fun to actually participate in my own biofeedback experiment! I watched the systolic pressure decrease from 160 to 154. More breathing accompanied by a quiet visual meditation brought my BP down to 148, then to 140. By the time I saw it fall to 132 the doctor arrived which required me to focus elsewhere.

He explained the procedure in general terms and I verbalized my understanding and acceptance. The nurse removed my glasses. The anesthesiologist moved my arms so that the IV was easy to reach. She attached an additional line with the anesthesia and started the flow. She said, “now its time to go to sleep”.  I watched the drip into my IV and wondered, is it going to work, what if it does not knock me out? That was my last thought.

A couple of days later I was thinking about the experience of nothingness that occurs after anesthesia.  The passage is smooth, quick, and painless. Existence while in nothingness is, in a word, nothing. So, I was living and breathing yet utterly unconscious. It’s sort of like taking a nap, except it isn’t. When I take a nap I’m thinking thoughts as I transition slowly to sleep. Those dreamlike images float around and faintly swirl until they dissipate into sleep. A sudden noise brings my consciousness from a deep well into a shallow pool. I’m aware that the cat has jumped from the chair to the floor and then I’m back in the deep sleep well.  At night my consciousness rises and falls all night long as awareness fades in and out.

Under anesthesia noise does not disturb me. Under anesthesia a scalpel cutting through my skin does not startle me. Under anesthesia turning my body, or probing it in any way does not awaken me. I might as well be dead, but my breathing proves otherwise. This is a good death in the sense that I return from the dead an hour or so later. Returning is good. There is still much to do, and the return offers the opportunity to continue to live, to continue with Life. To avoid death one more time.