Sing to the Lord a new song
Honolulu is in the midst of its second lockdown / stay at
home order. The mayor and state governor gradually lifted the first order when
the number of new cases reported per day hovered near zero. They imposed the
second order when the number of new cases reported daily spiked to 300 and
remained in that range.
In the interim between the two orders people were still
directed to practice social distancing, wear masks, and wash or sanitize their
hands frequently. Restaurants had to have at least six feet between tables,
gatherings of more than ten people were prohibited, etc. Unfortunately, people
wearied of loving their neighbors.
After six months of pandemic driven restrictions on
heretofore normal patterns of social interaction, I occasionally note that the
failure of people in movies or on TV to practice those protocols feels odd to
me, as though life has somehow become disjointed. Then I remind myself that
what I’m watching was filmed pre-pandemic.
These experiences have prompted two musings.
First, intentionally or unintentionally, aware or unaware, I’m
slowly reinventing myself. I’m acquiring new patterns, new ways of seeing the
world. I remember that something similar occurred when I lived on an Aleutian
island for two years. Returning to the contiguous forty-eight states, rain startled
me the first few times. The precipitation was vertical, not horizontal. Out on
the island, with an average windspeed, day in and day out, of twenty knots
precipitation of any type was invariably horizontal. Likewise, seeing trees
caused me to stop and to savor their beauty. On the island, trees averaged
about twelve inches of height growing in the tundra. How is the pandemic
changing you in ways that you perhaps do not recognize? What adaptations,
patterns, thoughts, behaviors have changed in your life as a result of the
pandemic and lockdown?
Second, I want to ensure that the new song I’m singing (my
altered life) is a song of joy replete with tears and laughter. The tears are
easy. I can catalogue what I miss (many in-person social events, e.g.), a feeling
that I will in some ways lose a year or two of my life, empathizing with the
pain of those who suffer from Covid-19, and grief for those whom the pandemic
kills and the bereavement of their loved ones.
Incorporating the laughter is more difficult. I have to look
past the tears, past any Covid-19 related stress (including the economic
hardship many people face), and discover (or rediscover) reasons to be
grateful, moments of humor (for example, it’s easier to laugh than to cry at
many political shenanigans and politicians), and examples of human folly (believing
that taking the temperature of all who enter and excluding the feverish will
allow in only those without the virus when much transmission occurs through
asymptomatic, i.e., people without a fever). If pandemic constraints prevent
corporate singing, sing in the shower, the bath, or any time you choose.
I refuse to worry about events and forces over which I have
no control. Instead, I prefer to expend my time, thoughts, and efforts changing
what lies within my power to effect and then striving to savor life with as
much gusto as possible.
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