Journal entry. Wednesday, March 11, 2020
It’s easier to allow my attention to get caught up in a whirlwind of anxiety about things over which I have little or no control than it is to love well. I wish it wasn’t so, but it is. The news cycle is tough right now. We’ve never been on this path before. I don’t know the answers, or even all the questions, but I know there’s a human being with a hurting heart who could use a kind word and a prayer offered on her behalf today. We all could. It’s easier to speculate and pontificate than to admit that in the quiet place where we’re raw and real that we’re scared and in pain and could use kindness and a prayer. Maybe tomorrow will be better or maybe it won’t. Maybe it will just be different.
Five years ago today a global pandemic was declared, and we all went home. The world tilted in 2020 and it hasn’t righted itself yet. Now, we find ourselves living in a time where it seems like everything in the world is shifting again.
I return to the thoughts I had on this day in 2020, not with the same pit-in-my-stomach feelings that would eventually drive me into an abyss of depression, but wiser, a tad more (okay, a lot more) jaded, with a measure of wisdom to call on to help weather the storm. And make no mistake. There is a storm.
Politics were never my jam. Before 2020, I had a high level general sense of current world events but, like most people when the pandemic hit, became obsessive about consuming news and trying to see past smoke and mirrors to the truth. In short, trying to become expert at something in which I had no knowledge or skill (or, frankly, interest.)
Like you, I educated myself (remember the snarky “do your research” mantra we lobbed back and forth at one another.) We all tasked ourselves with learning as much as we could about things we were ill-equipped to understand. Only a very select few knew what was really going on behind closed doors, but suddenly, we were all self-proclaimed experts. There were a lot of high horses roaming empty city streets back then.
These days I’m doing my best to keep no more than a high level view of the news cycle. Are tarriffs on? Or off? Which ones? And by who? Which leaders are speaking or scrapping? Who is our Prime Minister now? When will an election be called? What’s the latest in Ukraine? And Israel? What happened with that country to the south of us who we thought was our friend? Even a taste can turn into a gluttonous feast if I’m not careful. Some days I fast, instead.
In 2020, in the midst of movements toward kum-by-yah acceptance of all people, we became a pretty intolerant species willing to tattle on anyone who wasn’t following prescribed government-mandated guidelines, belittle those who had different opinions, and cut anyone out of our life who didn’t agree with us. We slandered people. Mocked and cancelled them. Cheered when they lost their jobs for their choice to maintain autonomy over their own bodies. Hypocrisy was (and still is) rampant.
Fast forward, and we haven’t changed much. We’re still a culture of us vs them. I still see social media posts requesting that “anyone who doesn’t agree with this particular opinion of mine unfriend me right now.” We hold our opinions up as gods, and are willing to metaphorically kill anyone who dares to not bow at our particular altar.
Five years ago, we expected a return to the status quo within a few months not realizing that “two more weeks to flatten the curve” would drag on for years. How naive we were. It would be amusing if it wasn’t so tragic. Now, I’m resigned to expect that the shaking won’t stop in my lifetime, if ever.
What does one do with that?
I’ve already said that I’m not going to try to become expert at things I have no background, foundation, or interest in. That would be foolish, wouldn’t it? Instead, I’m going to do my level best to focus on what 2020 Linda saw as her better work—kindness and prayer.
I’m going to make art. Plant a garden. Read good books. Listen to soothing music. Go outside. Listen to birdsong. Lean in to contemplative practices. Live one good day at a time. Allow space for you to have an opinion that differs from mine. And stop trying to figure everything out.
Five years ago today, the WHO declared COVID-19 a global pandemic. British Columbians in Canada 🇨🇦 waited for a semblance of normal life to return while weathering an unprecedented heat dome, drought, a province on fire, grasshoppers and apocalyptic skies and endless ash and charred pine needles falling, flooding, and mudslides. This book chronicles quotidian days, in times that were anything but, through journal entries, poetry, blog and social media posts, interspersed with government directives to provide context. It’s a glimpse into one ordinary life during two extraordinary years.
Living Liminal: A Slice of Pandemic Life, is available at a special price in the Canadian marketplace.
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