Living in a Time of Covid

We are anxious and fearful because we don’t know how the coronavirus will affect us or change our world. The normal pattern of our life has been disrupted, and we don’t know for how long. We feel unprepared to deal with something as large as this, and we’re tired, angry, and scared. 

 

We know that people are getting sick from the virus, and some are dying, and they are having to die alone because loved ones aren’t allowed to be with them to offer comfort. We worry about our health care workers who are putting their lives on the line to take care of the sick, working extra shifts until they're exhausted, and doing so without adequate protection.

 

One of our fears is that the society we thought we knew and trusted is being pulled apart, and we have gut-clenching concerns about what this might mean. If we didn’t understand how grief felt before, what we’re experiencing now opens a window into that world of brokenness, isolation, and despair.

 

Many of us are going stir-crazy at home. We don’t have our normal diversions to fill the empty hours. We can’t go to movies or eat in restaurants. There are no live sports to watch, so we watch Netflix until we’re numb from the dramas, or we read books until our eyes can’t take any more. We go on extended walks around the neighborhood because being cooped up this long with our family is wearing our patience thin. Without being able to do some of our everyday habits, we begin to learn what we can do without.

 

With this much free time, we may have finished all of the household projects we’ve been putting off, and we’re left with our thoughts. We’re having to face who we are when we’re not working 40 or more hours a week. Most of us aren’t used to being alone with our thoughts for even an hour a day. 

 

If you’ve ever gone camping, you’ve encountered the dilemma of all this freedom when every day there is little that we have to do. So what do we do? We could sleep all day if we wanted to. We could also sit by a river and just watch. As we are silent and listen, we begin to feel the pace of nature and hear its songs. We learn to be attentive without expectations. I go into nature to get away from the bustle and noise of the city, but also to be part of something alive and eternal, if only for a few days or a week.

 

With hours of unscheduled time, we can think about our life and where we’d like it to go. Do we really like our job, or is there something else we’d prefer to do? We can go over the entire history of our life, acknowledge where we made mistakes, affirm our strengths, and figure out what makes our life meaningful.

 

At home, without having to rush to get everything done, we can be mindful about what we do. This can anchor us to the day and calm our ocean of unsettledness. We start one chore, focus all of our attention on that until it’s finished, find another chore that needs to be done, work on that, and so on throughout the day until it’s time for bed. And what didn’t get done, didn’t get done.

 

When our thoughts feel tapped out, we can read what others have written about paying attention, and read their words slowly so that there is time for the words to seep in. We can be mindful of the people around us and listen to what they are saying, as well as to what their body language is indicating, and we sense when they need a hug or a kind word. We can be mindful of our relationship with the earth and become aware of how we can foster a living relationship with it. Writers like Hope Edelman, Joanne Cacciatore, Christina Rasmussen, Antonia Malchik, Terry Tempest Williams, and Robin Wall Kimmerer have insights to help us slow down, listen, and care for the wounded and lost of our world.

 

In this time of crisis, we’re scared that we will feel inadequate or powerless to change anything. Yet the strengths, insights, and courage that brought us this far through our struggles in life are still with us. 

 

Stay in contact with your friends. Check up on your neighbors to see how they’re doing. Listen without expectations, and help when you notice where they could use assistance. Every day do what you can, and believe that what you do matters, because it does. Every day find something to celebrate, no matter how small it might be. Do what is good and true and humble.

 

While cutting a radish for lunch yesterday, I saw a heart in the center. Radishes are rooted in the earth, and they make their presence known in what we eat. Then I noticed a red and white dot above the heart. Out of the radish of love, the flame of compassion was rising. Be a radish with your life.

 

Be still and listen. Let your imagination stride across continents.