One month into the COVID-19 inspired shutdown, we have had plenty of time to adjust to ‘The New Normal.’ While there are differing opinions on how long this crisis will last, how severe the restrictions will get, and what might put an end to our current situation, most people seem to agree that we will not emerge as the same society we went in.
For many, this change has been hard, and for some, disastrous, signalling the end of a dream, or the promise of a bleak short-term future, with jobs and paycheques dwindling, and uncertainty of what lies on the other side.
For others, this change has been an interesting experiment – a chance to find new ways to work, to pass time, and to connect with friends and family.
For still others, this change has been a welcome respite from the constant treadmill of everyday life – a chance to take stock of what is really important. A chance to reconnect instead of attending endless meetings, to cook fresh meals instead of commuting, to figure out who they really are.
I have discovered that I am an introvert. For years, I have grappled with this question – I have believed that I hover somewhere near the middle of the spectrum. But it turns out that when I don’t feel I HAVE to be out, I prefer not to be. I don’t miss my life from before social distancing. Sure, there are some things I miss – face-to-face chats, the convenience of popping out to pick up something I forgot, feeling safe near other people – but on the whole, I’m pretty comfortable hibernating. Turns out I am a bit of a hermit underneath all of my jovial busyness. And that lines up with a book I recently read, Quiet, by Susan Cain. It suggests that many introverts in our society learn extroversion, because it’s so much more valued than introversion. And it makes me wonder… how many other closet introverts do I know?
Surprisingly, our family is functioning better now than we ever have. Stepping off the treadmill has allowed everyone to relax, to bond, and to find ways to be together more cohesively. We are planning meals and cooking almost everything from scratch. There is time to cook, eat, and play a game without having to rush off to hockey, or to parent council, or to run errands. The boys are finding creative ways to fill their time – admittedly with too much time on screens, but also choosing outdoor activities, reading, building and creating, and spending time together. Without the pressure of school everyday, with uneaten lunches, stress, homework, and sensory overload, the children are slower to escalate and more relational in their problem-solving. I know this is not the experience of many, but we are not alone. It seems especially poignant for families with children who struggle with the daily grind of school, but there are other people reporting that this enforced slow-down has been a miraculous gift that has allowed them to re-evaluate their priorities.
The COVID numbers are scary, and the stories are sad. People are grieving their lives before the pandemic. Fear and uncertainty has brought out the worst in some people – those who have hoarded supplies, or taken this as an excuse for blatant racism, or flouted social distancing because it needn’t apply to them – but for every one of those, there seem to be so many beautiful stories of connection, and grace, and unity.
What I find most incredible is the sense of community that has been built. The sense that we are all in this together, that we need to help each other. I am struck by the sudden shift as we all learn new systems and protocols. The grace we offer each other in our learning curves, the willingness of people to take risks, to ask for or offer help, and to think critically about what works and what doesn’t as we re-imagine what life might look like under new conditions. I am inspired by the outpouring of support for front line workers, both in health care and in low-paid retail and service jobs, who for the first time are being recognized as essential to our survival. I don’t hear many people grieving the loss of professional sports, and artists are offering shows and lessons online. People are sharing ideas, inspiration, and humour as we try to carry each other through an anxiety-producing situation. My Facebook feed is full of inspirational stories about the positive social and environmental impacts of a global shutdown: people singing from balconies, blue skies over China, dolphins in the Venice canals, swans in the fountains.
And to me, that is beautiful. This is not the society I lived in three months ago. At the end of 2019, it was clear that there was a desire for environmental protection. But there was also a sense of futility, that it couldn’t be done. You can’t just stop everything. It isn’t possible. The change needs to be slow.
But look – it CAN be done. As it turns out, when the threat is great enough, there is the will and ability to change. But environmental degradation threatens to kill more people than COVID. Significantly more. One article I read suggested 7 million people a year, already. So the question becomes “Why can we change for this, but not for the environment, which threatens more lives and also the welfare of all living things on Earth?” And I think the answer is that this is more immediately terrifying, as well as being contagious. There is an obvious solution that is being offered by experts and governments. The restrictions are not optional. But this sudden stoppage has shown us a glimpse of what could be. It has show us what we CAN live without.
What if we use this enforced change to create lasting change? What if we emerge from this, not looking to rebuild what was, but to build something new? Something better. Something more sustainable, both socially and environmentally, while also preserving a functional economic system? What if we actually LEARNED from this experience? How would we re-imagine?
Out of the Well 