It was wild at work this week, with people stampeding through the store, refusing to respect the six-feet rule, and continuing to expect things to function as normal in the midst of a world-wide crisis. Everybody handles things differently, and I understand that, but I have talked to several people who somehow seemed to be in denial that anything unusual was taking place. One very nice woman seemed quite reasonable except for the fact that she just wasn’t accepting the fact that lockdowns in some places mean that some problems can’t be easily solved right now. I had several conversations in which I had the sense that people were hanging on to an everyday reality that no longer exists.
At the same time, I’m charmed by the humor and ingenuity displayed by everyday people trying to make the best of things and cope with challenging circumstances. I’m still wondering what will happen to those of modest means who aren’t really equipped for riding out a tsunami like this one. I’m assuming that good will and understanding from everyone involved will carry the day, and in most cases, this is probably true, but it’s difficult to imagine that all losses will be made good. How could they be? Some things really can’t be undone or redone, and there really are months (and years) of your life that you can never get back, no matter how much you want to. That’s something especially difficult for young people, who haven’t had a lot of experience with life upheavals, to understand.
The surreal is now normal, something I’m sure few of us anticipated could happen almost overnight. You just don’t expect the new normal to radically change from one day to the next. One day, I watched from a quiet corner of the grocery store as at least 20 people descended on the produce department at one time; a couple of days later, I was told I couldn’t stand in the completely empty section of the store that formerly housed the cafe because it was “closed” (though no one was within 25 feet of me or actually even in the section at all). All of the parks in town are closed except for one, which has inexplicably remained open. Last week, they were so packed with people that I was afraid to get out of my car, and now even the parking lots are blocked off, so obviously someone figured out the Petri dish potential of the walking paths—no social distancing with hundreds of people walking at the same time.
I’ve been noticing moments of splendor in the midst of chaos, something I’ve become very adept at doing. I’m often in my car and unable to stop when I notice something springlike and beautiful; if this were not the case, I would take even more pictures. I’ve noticed in the past that photographs often fail to capture the full effect of what I’m seeing, but maybe I’m getting better at gauging whether something is photographable or not. My sense of what’s important has changed since I stopped working full-time years ago. It sometimes seems to me that I accomplish more by taking a photo of a tree than I did by working an entire eight-hour day at my desk job, courtesy of some algorithm of usefulness that I’ve developed on my own.
Not all of the effects of what’s happening will be bad. I am not one to recommend character-building experiences (feeling that I’ve had more than I will probably be able to benefit from no matter how long I live)—but you certainly can learn a lot of things about yourself when you’re thrown out of your comfort zone. Of course, you already know that, so no need to state the obvious—just remember the old chestnut about tough times not lasting. And the glass being half-full, not half-empty. All those old cliches.
