The Great Pause

Back in January, I wrote a post called Presence and I talked about how, in the age of technology, smartphones, and social media, it is so important for us to put those things away at times and be physically present with others. The irony is that, less than two months after I wrote that, our world is in a place where those technologies are the only things allowing us to connect with others and maintain some level of presence.

My appreciation for these technologies has grown substantially in the past three weeks because, despite having not left the house in a month except to get food, I have been able to stay relatively connected to many of the people I care about. I've been able to continue doing my job (sort of) supporting students and helping them learn even when they cannot go to school. I've played some of my favorite games on video chats with friends. I've attended virtual meetings for groups and clubs that I am part of - classes that I wouldn't have had time to attend during my normally busy schedule. I've been able to stay in contact with my exchange student even though he is back in Spain and thousands of miles away. Although these interactions are not the same as being physically present, I cannot imagine how much harder the past three weeks would have been if we were completely isolated without those technologies.

I've written a few posts about the coronavirus epidemic already. I've reflected on how this time has forced us to slow down and how that's a good thing. I've realized the importance of checking in with others, even if it's just a quick message to let them know you're thinking about them. And I've realized how much I take things for granted.

The next step for me is deciding how I want to come out of this situation. We cannot get back the last two months of our lives or the things we missed out on, but this interruption is a great opportunity to reset and to do things differently going forward.

Several of my friends have shared this article from Forge by Julio Vincent Gambuto that describes this very opportunity. Here is my favorite part:

From one citizen to another, I beg of you: take a deep breath, ignore the deafening noise, and think deeply about what you want to put back into your life. This is our chance to define a new version of normal, a rare and truly sacred (yes, sacred) opportunity to get rid of the bullshit and to only bring back what works for us, what makes our lives richer, what makes our kids happier, what makes us truly proud. We get to Marie Kondo the shit out of it all. We care deeply about one another. That is clear. That can be seen in every supportive Facebook post, in every meal dropped off for a neighbor, in every Zoom birthday party. We are a good people. And as a good people, we want to define — on our own terms — what this country looks like in five, 10, 50 years. This is our chance to do that, the biggest one we have ever gotten. And the best one we’ll ever get.

My fear is that we won't take the opportunity; that I won't take the opportunity.

It is so much easier, and more comfortable, to go back to exactly the way things were. We can simply put our blinders back on and only choose to see the things we want to see. We can fill our calendars back up with our business (and busy-ness), go back to our routine of convenience, and kick the can further down the road when it comes to dealing with global, and personal, issues.

There are some glimmers of hope, though.

Maybe congress passing a $2.2 trillion relief bill almost unanimously is a sign that we (liberals and conservatives) still have some things in common; that taking care of each other is more important than getting what we want.

Maybe the improvement to the air and water quality in many cities and carbon emissions at their lowest point in years as a result of us all staying home and shutting things down for a while is the catalyst we needed to start taking better care of our planet.

Maybe I'm naive.

On a personal level, I need to use the time I have remaining stuck inside to consider what I will do differently; to decide what I want to put back in my life, and what I want to leave out. I need to figure out what things make me happy and give me purpose, and what things just keep me busy.

Here are some things I know are in the first category:

1) Visiting with my family. I've been at my parents' house for the longest amount of time since graduating high school which I didn't expect to happen. I've made the cookies that my mom taught me how to make in middle school (yes, the Nestle Tollhouse recipe). I've done the dishes, "debated" with my sister, watched some Jeopardy, and played way too many rounds of cards. I've even had a chance to go through old photos and other things from my childhood. I can't take for granted that I had the option to do this rather than sit at home by myself. I missed out on visiting my other sister and her family last month, but that will happen soon enough.

2) My job. Middle school kids are a fun, unique, and insightful bunch. I didn't realize how much I get from being in the presence of their awkwardness until now when my interactions are only through emails and virtual classrooms. I certainly don't feel like I make a profound impact on kids everyday in my job but, on the days when I get to leave school knowing that I helped a student navigate this tough stage in life, it definitely gives me a sense of purpose.

3) Investing in others. Being a mentor with Big Brothers Big Sisters is one way I can continue to do this. I stopped leading Young Life this year which was a good decision for me, but I knew that I needed to find a new way to invest myself in others. Hosting an exchange student this year was that opportunity. I knew going into it that it was only for 10 months and I wasn't sure how it would feel to say goodbye. Having that time cut short because of the coronavirus made it even tougher. The eight months that Ramón and I did have were so much fun, though. I got a small glimpse into being a parent and all of the things that come with it. Although it was only 8 months, it was well worth it. I have agreed to host another student next year and I am both nervous and excited.

4) Friends. This is an area that I need to focus on. I realize that I have kept myself so busy with other things for many years that I have failed to maintain some important friendships.

5) A cause. Over the past few years, I have learned a lot about climate change and other impacts that we as humans are having on our planet. It seems like such a daunting task to try and address it, but I know that, at the very least, there are many small things I can do to reduce my impact. If I'm going to continue investing in the next generation, it would be hypocritical of me to not at least try to live more sustainably and leave the planet a little bit better for them.

We're at a turning point. What we do with it is up to us, individually and collectively.

Also from Julio Vincent Gambuto:

Well, the treadmill you’ve been on for decades just stopped. Bam! And that feeling you have right now is the same as if you’d been thrown off your Peloton bike and onto the ground: What in the holy fuck just happened? I hope you might consider this: What happened is inexplicably incredible. It’s the greatest gift ever unwrapped. Not the deaths, not the virus, but The Great Pause.

Live Deliberately

I have been wanting to read Henry David Thoreau’s Walden for a couple of years now after listening to a discussion about it in a podcast. I finally started reading it about a month ago and I think it is somewhat serendipitous considering the situation our planet is experiencing with the coronavirus pandemic. The book describes the author’s experience living alone for two years in a cabin he built in the woods (near Walden Pond) and he makes the case for living a more simple, intentional life. Living deliberately.

Seeing what this global pandemic has done already to our social lives, our work lives, and our economy, my perspective on life has shifted a bit in the past two weeks. I re-read a passage in the book that stuck out to me the first time. This time, it felt even more on point.

I went into the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion… 

Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb-nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand-and-one items to be allowed for, that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify. Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one; instead of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion… The nation itself, with all its so-called internal improvements, which, by the way are all external and superficial, is just such an unwieldly and overgrown establishment, cluttered with furniture and tripped up by its own traps, ruined by luxury and heedless expense, by want of calculation and a worthy aim, as the million households in the land; and the only cure for it, as for them, is in a rigid economy, a stern and more than Spartan simplicity of life and elevation of purpose. It lives too fast. Men think that it is essential that the Nation have commerce, and export ice, and talk through a telegraph, and ride thirty miles an hour, without a doubt, whether they do or not; but whether we should live like baboons or like men, is a little uncertain… 

Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life?

While Thoreau chose to live alone and distanced from others and we are being forced to do the same out of necessity, he seems to have come to some of the same conclusions that I have in a much shorter time.

Most of us live at such a fast pace with a “thousand-and-one” things to do. We live too fast and we cannot keep up. Maybe it helps us feel important. Or needed. Maybe it helps us to avoid feeling things like loneliness. What’s ironic for me, though, is that, because I keep myself so busy all of the time, I don’t always find time to maintain the things that should be important and meaningful: friendships, connecting with family, learning something new, pursuing a passion.

The last few weeks have forced us to slow down. My calendar has been cleared and, as Thoreau encouraged, I can count things I need to do on my ten fingers. There is no question that this time is hard and the source of much suffering. Our world will be different because of this. People are losing loved ones and livelihoods. Our global economy has shrunk. It’s not always easy to find the silver lining. In this case, if nothing else, perhaps we will all start to slow down, discover what is really important, and live more deliberately.

In short, I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to maintain one’s self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if we will live simply and wisely.

-Henry David Thoreau