Almost, But Not Quite

I’m sitting on my porch swing. It’s early. Except for the birds trilling their usual lilting, melodic greeting, the morning is still, the air thick, sticky like butter with warmth, creamy color and humidity, the surrender to Spring in the air. It’s eerily hushed, as it often is in my little neighborhood, tucked away from the prying eyes of passers-by and traffic. It almost feels like any other morning. There is no Pandemic. No life altering virus that has changed the very fiber of our existence. 

Everything is almost. But not quite.

So what is it? And will life ever be the same?

That was a question posed to me by a dear friend as we contemplated the current emotional, economical and social implications of COVID-19. I think it is a question on the mind of everyone right now as we adjust to what we call ‘our new normal’, a clearly confusing path overgrown with misinformation, frightening realities, isolation orders, uncertainty, differing opinions, fear and panic. Businesses are closing, lay-offs are increasing by the minute, essential workers are putting their lives at risk on the front lines daily with limited protection. People we don’t know have become part of our virtual family as the numbers of infected and dying roll through the newsreel. This could be our neighbor. Our parent. Someone we infect without even knowing it. This could be us. We watch and wait. We wait some more. 

It’s scary and not just for the risks of the virus itself but for the shaky ground we now live on.

We miss our friends, our activities, gatherings of celebration, weddings, birthdays, graduations, the milestones that have become our bedrock, the centerpiece from which love and joy flow freely. The cultural experiences, art, music, laughter and interactions that connect and nurture us and the very things that offer us calm in a storm, a reminder of our human connection have dissipated, slowly, steadily, like glitter on the breeze. Familiarity, closeness, truths we can count on have become fragile, all when we need them the most. It is teetering and tenuous. We didn’t realize just how much it all mattered until it was gone. Gradually, and then…all gone.

Poof. Just like that.

So? Now what? Will life ever be the same?

I think about this a lot and I hope not.

I hope that as we are compelled to slow down and pay attention to how we socialize, mingle in common places, and how we spend our time isolating, that we will embrace and absorb that beautiful awareness of how other people are doing, of how we respond to our soul’s need for self care, and how we show up in the world. This world that we share and coexist in. More than ever this is an opportunity to soften and hold tightly to that concern that ever so tenderly rests upon our hearts and nudges us to put ourselves in another person’s situation and then follow that instinct to reach out, be kind, be mindful. 

There is little to protect us now that doesn’t require coming together with our collective awareness, involvement and cooperation. Every stressful moment reminds us to dig deeply and willingly give way from our comfort zone, practice selflessness and do what is necessary to fight this. It begs our attention. Our intention. 

While I have seen much panic, hoarding, fear and selfishness I have also witnessed such lovely gestures of humanity and altruism throughout this pandemic so far. People are creating alternatives for bringing friends together that honor the situation while cultivating and living in a space of gratitude. I am inspired daily by the people who are willing to put themselves at risk to take care of us, provide food, healthcare and simple conveniences that we would otherwise do without. There is a great deal to be thankful for and those are the things we must focus on if we are to navigate our way through this difficult time. None of us have done this before. It is deeply personal yet also very impersonal that it knows no age, race, gender or status. 

It is hard to imagine how this will look when it ends. If it ends. It’s likely to get worse before it gets better. But I’m a big optimistic enthusiast of hope and I cannot help but believe that some very beautiful, cleansing things will emerge from this for those of us who are willing to recognize it for the gifts it holds and allow it to shift our way of being. 

We’re all allowed to be and feel whatever we need to right now. Times of uncertainty call for that. We’re also allowed to still be grateful for what we can do and the new truths we can create.

For my part, aside from doing what I can to distance and isolate, I’m sharing my insights and throwing out some great big love and light for the world!