Fill the COV(O)ID-19

I started a blog. Yep. And I’ll just cut to the chase and say that, given the current circumstances (see date), the primary subject of this post is an easy guess. There’s a long list of things I plan to write about here (I’m incentivized to write more since paying for a domain). But right now, a lot of my “passions”, “interests”, “hobbies”, “experiences”, etc (and really anything not directly concerning the COVID-19 pandemic) feels kind of… banal? Maybe I’ve been watching too much news, but lately can’t seem to give a shit if it doesn’t involve c*ronavirus and how we’re going to get a grip on it. In other words, there’s one big fish being fried and not much room left on the grill.

In just a few surreal, whirlwind months, this virus has spread globally, infected and killed loads of people, stunted economies, broken healthcare systems, taken people off the streets and into hospitals or their homes. And for those sheltered in place, all you can do is hope that “home” is a safe place. People are out of work, away from loved ones, deprived of tactile human connection. Those of us still working are terrified to be there. It has disrupted society on a larger scale than anything in my (albeit short) lifetime.

The folks in charge say this will be a long and slow burn. The world is scrambling for solutions, while simultaneously holding its breath, praying it will take what it wants and leave. When will it end? What will the pandemic being “over” even mean?

If you’re not on the front lines of healthcare or operating other essential services, the heroic thing to do is stay home and away from others. It could obviously be worse. For example, we aren’t being asked to paint all windows and headlights black so bomber planes overhead won’t see the light of our towns. We are asked to stay at home with all our creature comforts and streaming services and various means to still quasi-connect with others. But that doesn’t invalidate how each of us is hurting, big or small.

In summary, it’s a bum deal. I’ve found myself crying and unable to really articulate what I was even feeling. Fear? Grief? Lamenting the loss of my bubble, the narrow lane of my own easy existence, before COVID-19 came in and popped it? Are we all waving goodbye to the characteristic frivolity of pre-corona America?

The air feels heavy with dread and uncertainty. I could be fabricating it, but we’re empathetic creatures that, I think, have been deluded into thinking our happiness can exist in isolation. Even if YOU’RE fine, it’s normal to be afflicted by the pain of others. I’ve wondered if the only way to be happy right now is to just be highly selective with reality. Being anxious, overwhelmed, and depressed about the state of the world isn’t productive, but you don’t want to have your blinders on either. It can be difficult to walk that line, allowing yourself to connect into the current globally-experienced pain, while staying in your lane and counting all the blessings there. And 2020, though still young, has suggested a theme of worldwide tragedy-induced reflection.  

Kobe Bryant died in a freak accident on my 22^nd birthday. A helicopter crash. I spent most of the day thinking about death, about all the helicopters I had flown in during my 4 years fighting fire. How could this emblem of human excellence, this personification of invincibility, die so… randomly? I could go down a rabbit hole here, but point being, that day brought to light some hard truths for us all: Life is fragile. Humanity is fragile. We don’t have nearly the amount of control we think we do.   

Thus, with the onset of COVID-19, it felt like the natural advancement of a bad dream, meant to teach some sort of lesson in our sleep to be acted upon when we wake. Like when you dream a loved one died and immediately call them to say “I love you” in the morning…? The world will change and adapt after this. It already is. I don’t know how much or in what precise ways, but I’m left to wonder how people will adapt on a smaller scale.

Has everything leading up to this just prepared us for the fact that we finally do not have to go outside and talk to one another? We are properly and officially frightened of our neighbors. At a time when so many suffer from loneliness, will COVID-19 have lasting effects on the interpersonal? Will this fresh awareness of the risks of social interaction linger long? Has the sun officially set on handshakes and hugs? 

What are we all really being forced to examine? I’d love to know what uncomfortable ideas everyone else is grappling with, stuck at home and unable to run from them. For me, I’ve thought a lot about living with intention, what matters and doesn’t, what characterizes a “meaningful” life. Pretty run of the mill navel-gazing.

People have been forced to slow down, stay home, interrupt the hustle. It’s hard to maintain momentum. Personally, I’ve felt stagnant at times while adapting to this new reality. I was emailing a friend and mentioned a feeling of meaninglessness and empty space. I want to share part of his response, because it genuinely made me feel better and might do the same for someone else reading this.

“As trite and cornball as this sounds, I really believe it: the only thing that seems to fill those spaces is love.  I’ve probably spouted off about this in some previous overly-romanticized, idealistic soapbox-sesh, and it’s not a new idea, but it’s the only magic I’ve ever seen with my own eyes.  People whose lives are filled with it don’t seem to struggle as much, or at all, with meaninglessness.  And, of course, it doesn’t have to be romantic love; the love that exists in a healthy family, or an unhealthy family that’s willing to put in the work to be real–accept flaws and failures and mistakes and other aspects of real life–or the love among true friends, all these, I know, fill those spaces.  I know because I have these things or have had these things and not had them too.  Without them, the void is pretty hard not to get engaged with.”

“Whatever we do to survive and keep the species, life of some form, whatever, going on, extends the potential to realize meaning.  And along those lines, you mean something to me. All of the little things, and the big things, that make it possible for me to keep running around on the beach, bored by the blown out surf, running terrified from waves, wading in even swells, watching the water suck sand out from around my feet, keep me alive and are in some way responsible for every smile and every laugh and every good feeling I’ve ever had.”

Cliché, yeah. But don’t turn your nose up at clichés in the name of originality. There’s a reason we adopt their sentiments universally. There’s a reason that simple reminder to love was exactly what I needed to hear. This is happening, and worse things will most likely happen in the future. Figure out how to keep moving and do what’s in your power to love those around you. Message the friends you don’t anymore, facetime your cousins, call your parents and grandparents. Take care of yourself and offer what you can authentically to others. And right now, when the safety of everyone is hinging on our willingness to sacrifice, make those sacrifices out of love.

“For the world is in a bad state, but everything will become still worse unless each of us does his best.”

-Victor E. Frankl, Man’s Search For Meaning

^Seemed fitting.

-Sofia