“Mom, what do you think the world will be like after the Coronavirus?”
The question hung in the air for a bit. I looked over at our eighteen-year-old and wanted to answer comfortingly. But I really didn’t want to offer some half-baked attempt of being reassurer-in-chief.
I don’t have any words of comfort to offer.
“Honestly, I have no idea. Nobody knows really.” “Well, mom, do you think some of this will be for the better? I see some of my friends responding really well. One has started meditating, another has taken up hiking.” “That’s great.” “Yeah, they are figuring out what is possible and not what isn’t.” “Wow… yes, I think that is exactly it, Dylan. We are the world we are creating, right? The businesses are not society. We are.” “So if we are better afterwards, the world will be also.” “Maybe….”
We stopped the conversation there.
I worry like most. Two of our sons have had to stop working. My husband had to cancel three months of touring. As his manager, I scramble to plan next steps. I try to restore what I can, but it is difficult to know when to reschedule and what will be possible when. It is scary when the economy tanks with all of us in it.
We are experiencing fear and uncertainty beyond our control like many of us never have before. At least not collectively.
But, we are also learning:
To accept that part of the human connection is not having all the answers. That we must learn to dance with uncertainty and vulnerability.
To understand that the emptiness in the streets around us is not scary, but rather kindness, love, and considerate action.
To treat our resources more responsibly.
To appreciate farm workers, who grow the food that we used to take for granted.
To appreciate the earth, the plants, the animals as more than simply objects for us to exercise dominion and control over.
To appreciate clean water and what it takes to heat and cool our homes. Also the people that make these everyday miracles possible.
To appreciate grocery clerks, truckers, every working man and woman who help provide necessities for us.
To appreciate the teachers who teach our kids every day and give their daily lives structure and meaning.
To appreciate our medical staff; nurses and doctors, hospice workers, and people working with the mentally ill and homeless.
To not judge hard-working people as lazy when they need government assistance to pay the bills or get healthcare.
To cook and eat more reverently and do less “shoveling it in and getting going”.
I think some of it does come down to Dylan’s observation:
We are learning to see what is possible and not focus so intently on what is not.