So… it’s been a full year since the panic began and our lives changed in ways we never thought possible in the 21st century. It’s hard to say which challenges were born out of others – they all tangled up into one knotted mess and had us “choosing up sides to smell armpits,” as my mother used to say.
Armed with little but eternal hopefulness, I wonder how the world will tackle the weeks and months ahead, when our futures remain uncertain and the damages to date have not yet been assessed thoroughly, nor will the full fallout be known for decades, maybe.
It boggles the mind, really. What hasn’t been touched by the chaos? Relationships, economy, ecology, biology, geography, justice, equality, mental health, physical health… it goes on and on…
And we have our opinions, or so we believe. Judgements, they are, conceived by stressed-out minds bombarded with conflicting information and half-truths. What we don’t know for sure, we fill in the blanks with our thoughts, and that becomes our Truth.
The solitude of fighting a pandemic is so loud, it’s deafening.
In this war, the troops are undefined by uniforms, so we’re never sure if we’re in enemy territory or not. We listen for buzzwords or notice small actions that might give us an inclination about someone’s loyalties, and then we take appropriate action. Snubbery, shaming, silent-treatment, lauding, applauding, hero-worship…
We’re exhausted. Tired of fighting. Tired of yelling and not being heard. Tired of being “against” something and longing for the days of neighborhood BBQ’s that generated smiles and a sense of belonging to a diverse group of people who might have nothing more in common than a zip code.
We mourn the casualties. We send them off to their next assignments with a kiss and a prayer and an apology that we couldn’t protect them this time. We do the very best we can, and we keep waking up and checking off the calendar days.
Now what?
I wish I had kept writing during the times when I didn’t know what to say; I would love to take a peek into my mind over the last couple of years.
I spent a lot of time investigating mysterious health issues that came up out of nowhere. I fought Fear and often lost. My running suffered. I lost weight and gained even more. I got caught up in painful family matters. I forgot who I am. And I cried – a lot.
I wish I could say I’m on the other side of “it,” whatever “it” is, but I don’t know that I am. I’ve simply begun a new chapter in this unwinding story, and I finally feel compelled to spill my guts again, here in this place that I hold dear.
I can say today that I am in a grateful space – optimistic about the future and acutely aware of the undeserved gifts the Universe has presented to me.
Something extraordinary and wonderful is about to happen. I already feel the excitement of it before I even know what it is. I’ve been plodding through the swamp, cold, wet, and miserable, but with dry land in sight and a hope that I would get there soon. And now here I am at the edge of the muck, climbing out of it and standing here, filthy dirty and covered in shit, wondering what I’m supposed to do next, but knowing whatever it is, it’s better than where I just came from.
Experience tells me that time in the swamp means spiritual growth – an uncomfortable stretching of my skin, a devastating tornado in my mind, and a bloody boxing match with Fear that leads me to a new insight and elevates my soul to new levels of Love.
Now what?