I notice that I have not written a blog post in over a year. Some time ago I began to feel limited by the contrivance of why, who, where, etc. I am still curious, but I am feeling bolder about making statements, and needing to ask fewer questions, so this may be the last time I use this format.
Today is United Nations International Day of Peace. Now, more than ever, we need to stop fighting each other and come together. Except, we’re supposed to stay apart because of Covid, right? What a paradox.
I have been struggling on and off since March to put into words how I feel about this worldwide crisis, but as it has been morphing, so has my response, which I’ve been reticent to share. I frequently take time to imagine what my greatest teacher, Derek, would say, which is easier than revealing into my own mixed thoughts and feelings. But I believe, as he did, in speaking the unspeakable, and getting closer to what I fear, so I’ll move ahead and delve into both.
Maybe, some say, this is the Earth’s way of dealing with overpopulation, or our own souls’ way of evolving us spiritually. I don’t know, but both sound right to me. And perhaps it doesn’t matter. I would speculate that Derek would be in that camp. It doesn’t matter why we’re suffering; what matters is how we move ahead and the choices we make.
I can hear him now, saying that it seems we are giving a teeny little microscopic entity a heck of a lot of power. Covid is like a scapegoat, a proxy on which to project the existential fear that’s already there in each one of us. Creating enemies is how we divert and divest ourselves of responsibility. Derek was a lover, not a fighter, even in the face of his wife’s cancer, even looking down the barrel of a gun pointed straight at him. He strengthens my resolve to do what feels right. I want to feel empowered by love, in whatever choices lie before me. Wearing a mask is one example. I am shocked to hear about threats and shaming that are going on, whether you’re for or against.
Derek wear a mask? Uhh…not likely. Well, let me qualify that. He’d chuckle gently and shake his head, but then—he’d look right at me and say, “But of course I will if you need me to.” He wouldn’t do it for himself; he would do it for others. But he was not afraid of getting sick. Some might call this foolhardy, risky, or irresponsible. But he was not even afraid of dying. Really and truly. After tasting life’s sweetest nectar, squeezing each moment of enjoyment and fulfilment out of his earthly life, he really did live each day as if it was his last. “Hoka hey,” he would say. “It’s a good day to die.”
This virus is testing us all, stretching our limits of patience and tolerance and trust. We all know someone (or know someone that knows someone) who has lost a family member, lost a job, lost a home, lost faith, lost sanity. To varying degrees we are tired of this, we’re alone, angry, or scared. And as we are having to face our worst nightmares (not just Covid, but wildfires, political upheaval, and other tragedies and atrocities) we are being divided, asked or ordered to physically distance ourselves from each other. What we actually need right now is uniting, but we can’t even disagree politely about how to act in the face of this pandemic. Often there’s disparity in how we prioritize individual freedoms and the collective good, and these times are no exception.
This has been an amazing opportunity for us all to step back and reassess what is important. Health care, shelter, clean air and water, soap and toilet paper all come to mind! But, also, togetherness. I am a little concerned that as we’ve taken this enforced step back, our literal steps back from each other (which my partner and I the “Covid Recoil”) will have a lasting impact, and will take us a long time to recover from, with more serious implications than the virus itself.
We’re social animals, mammals, who require intimacy to learn and grow and thrive, emotionally, cognitively, physically, and even on an immune level. What we receive, and create, and experience, when we get together in pairs and in groups, is crucial to our survival as a species. And now we’re frightened of touching each other. We’re frightened of breathing someone’s infected air droplets or spreading the virus to others by getting too close, even when we don’t have symptoms. I understand we all run the chance of being asymptomatic carriers. But how do you calculate the risk, the cost/benefit ratio of distancing? We’ve already taught our children that strangers are not to be trusted. Now, can we not even get close to our friends safely? Are masks going to become as common as underwear? I think it’s kind of ironic that while many Westerners have been criticizing and condemning the wearing of the hijab and burqa, we are now covering ourselves up similarly.
These are the thoughts and questions that run through my mind. Perhaps, although the pandemic is bringing some of the worst out in us, it’s bring out the best too—our altruism and ingenuity, as we create new ways to serve each other’s needs, and connect “safely”. We will always find how to come into relationship.
It’s clear that relationship was always Derek’s main focus. And after all his miles of walking with others in community, and having to learn to get along with people under pressure, he knew the healing power of intimacy. And he experienced that the way to peace was to come together, when often it’s the last thing you want is to get closer to someone you disagree with or distrust. But you take the leap of faith, and you talk and listen and talk and listen some more, and you will find common ground. Sometimes that common ground might simply be, to begin with, the shared experience of frustration. Or—the shared threat of a new and unpredictable virus.
Derek’s experiences taught him that any time he had resistance to something, it probably meant he was afraid of it in some way, and had built a wall to protect himself from that thing or person. He continually worked on breaking down his walls, and even helping break those that others—institutions and individuals—had built. He would do this by asking permission, or gently provoking, or even by blatantly defying. I wouldn’t always have the nerve or impulse to do the same, but I found it remarkable how keenly he discerned how close he could get, and at what pace he could go, with love as his guide.
So—right now, Derek would be out there walking, talking, and hugging, getting as close as anyone would let him. Me—I feel the same, but I am not sure I behave the same. I am more careful, more cautious, perhaps more sensitive. On a philosophical / spiritual level, I can easily say hoka hey. But, I am grateful for this life, and want MORE! On a practical level, I want to finish turning my landscaping fantasy into reality, and I’ve been told by my garden guru neighbour that it’s likely a ten year project. So—I’m not ready to go yet! Besides, I still have to update my will. So, I’d like some reassurance, please. But I know that there is none.
There really is NONE. There are NO GUARANTEES. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow crossing the street with my Covid mask on. I could die from anaphylaxis by eating an innocent piece of cashew by mistake. I have to be ready to let go. All the personal work I do, every day, each time I examine my thoughts and behaviour, all points to this place. Am I ready to let go? There have been times that I have said hoka hey, and meant it, and not in a morose or resigned way but an empowered, liberated one. I want to find that peaceful place again within. Letting go every day is a good exercise. Do I need all the control that I am struggling to keep?
Making peace with each other, making peace with ourselves, is all about admitting our own vulnerability and immortality, facing our powerlessness in the shadow of the great unknown. So yeah, I’ve heard it all before, but I need to remember, every day, that this life is a gift. I will choose not to squander it and sully my days with squabbles and greed and pettiness. If you disagree with me, come to me, get closer, and we will talk. And perhaps breathe a little of each other’s air if we dare.
SEE with a WHY 