“I have just three things to teach: simplicity, patience, compassion. These are your greatest treasures. Patient with both friends and enemies, you accord with the way things are.” – Lao-Tzu

Right now, we are being battered, by good and bad advice, by modern times, by feckless and ignorant politicians, amateur and real physicians, online advice-givers, cranked up journalists, cable TV hysterics, and understandably panicked, exhausted and troubled friends and family.

Every hour, somebody e-mails me, tells me I am wrong about something, gives me advice I don’t want or need. I take advice from health care professionals that I trust only, not strangers on social media.

There are plenty of people out there who know what they are talking about, and even more who don’t. I listen to people who know what they are talking about. That’s the best choice I can make in terms of dealing with this.

Surprisingly, for me, we are being relentlessly pared down to life’s essentials – don’t go out, avoid restaurants, no movies, no school, no concerts, or trips to crowded supermarkets. There is something quite wonderful about that, a true message for the times.

If you are me, or my age, or with my and other health issues, or if you have small children, just multiply this all by two or three times. Don’t go out at all, stay inside for a month or two, don’t shop, see friends, invite them over, go out to lunch, be very, very nervous.

Maria is anxious about me right now, and part of my job is to make her feel safe and secure that I will not leave the world prematurely and for no good reason.

The other part of my job is to find creative and effective ways to continue the vital – especially now – work of the Army Of Good.

I’ve learned a lot about this virus, I’ve drawn the wrong conclusions, made some bad decisions, adjusted my thinking almost daily. Unlike a lot of people, I don’t need to be right all the time, and it’s a good thing. I learn more from my mistakes than my right decisions.

I like to live my life in the middle lane, by which I mean I stay away from extremes – in politics, in health, in my writing, in my response to this very new kind of scourge.

I’m not staying inside for the next few months, even if that means going to jail.

Jail is for criminals, not for aging writers with stuff to do. Even in World War II, through tornadoes, floods, and hurricanes, people could go outside if they were careful about the bombs.

And they were much more likely to die. People have the right to tell me how to be safe and help others to be safe. They will never have the right to tell me how to live.

I am not smug or oblivious.

For at least an hour a day, I follow the cautions and advice of state, local and government health officials.

I know an awful lot about this virus, much more than the people writing to me with obvious, readily available or dubious advice. As a former journalist,  I know how to find honest and curated information, advice that takes some knowledge or experience and is edited.

I have done everything they suggest – washing, avoiding crowded places, skipping hugs, handshakes or kisses. I will continue to do that.

What I will not do is panic or freak other people out or succumb to the choices of a friend, who sits trembling in her home, wondering how she will survive when we are all locked down.

I’ll take walks, get lunch now and then at Jean’s, so some shopping in particular circumstances, meet some friends who want to have lunch with me too. I need to have some people in my life. “Social distance” and “Community Spread” are Stalinist terms to me, even if they represent important ideas.

I will avoid crowded places, crowds, wash my hands constantly and thoroughly, keep some distance from people.

Since I have been told to stay out of the Mansion and Bishop Maginn High School (they close tomorrow), some decisions have blessedly been made for me, as wrenching as they are.

The Internet is the ultimate schizophrenic medium.

It offers the most useful and current information if I stay away from ideologues and idiots (not easy), and it provides the most irresponsible,  inaccurate presumptive and arrogant slop. It gives shallow people the feeling that they are wise and all-knowing.

The Internet turns out to be its own plague, spawning legions of often nasty busybodies who think they have the right to tell others what to do. Nuts to them, as long as this virus lasts and beyond. (And to people who try to tell me what to write. May they find cockroaches in their beds.)

They are a virus just as dangerous at the coronavirus, and perhaps just as harmful.  I pride myself on never listening to them or doing what they say.

This virus offers me a  healthy exercise both in health and the preservation of democracy. I relish the opportunity to simplify my life, quiet it down, and explore the essentials I need to live a healthy and meaningful life. That is a gift and opportunity given to us from the coronavirus.

I continue to believe the sanest and most healing response is to think, listen, and try to do some good.

To that end, I will devote myself this week to helping the refugee children and their families as they have been separated from their most valuable source of support and connection – Bishop Maginn  High School.

I will also consult with the Mansion chefs and find a way to get them some creative and surprising meals.  I will work hard to give the refugee children the tools the need (and the food) to be safe and continue their education.

And oh yes, I will do what I can to ease Maria’s concerns, behave responsibly and stay in the middle lane. I don’t need the left or the right, and I don’t need strangers hiding behind computers to tell me what to do.

The choice is between prudence and panic, and by staying away from the extreme edge of either, I can make the best choices for me and the people around me.

More later.