Thoughts on Life as it Now is

Thank God for technology. For the internet. For the digital connectivity I have gluing me to the people I love amidst a time when staying as far away from them is the best thing I can do for humanity.

I have a lot of questions.

Where did this power come from, to help everyone by staying away from them? It’s in my system to crave relationship. To make small talk with the person making my matcha, to be tackled by my neighbors when I walk in the door (I should make it clear that they’re children, so this is actually an act of love on their end, not defense), to sit across from my best friends at a coffee shop while we work on something or nothing together, to hear people, to feel them, to know they’re there. At my core, I need this.

I’m a people person. Not just in the I like people sort of way, but in the I’m a human being and this is how human beings are designed sort of way. You’re a people person just like me. Introverted, awkward, socially-anxious people are people people too. It’s part of our human nature. It’s how we’re supposed to be. As someone who is equally fueled and exhausted by people, an ambivert, I’d like to think I can speak to both sides, those who love being alone and those who are terrified at the thought of it.

The eeriness that comes with empty grocery stores and nearly no cars on the streets makes me laugh because we’re usually all complaining that the world is too crowded. In a time where the new norm is to walk and talk at a distance, this really makes me laugh. Where are the crowds, the cars?

I FaceTimed one of my friends this morning. Yesterday I video chatted two of my friends who live in Paris. I’m constantly in contact with another friend in Germany. The whole world, in this together, apart.

Please note that I’m not saying spending hours on end video chatting with my friends, especially with that being my only current option to spend time with them, is worthless to me. What I’m saying is that the people on the other end of that call, that text message, are people. Real, living, breathing, people. Flesh and blood, in the same world I’m in!

I miss them. I wish so dearly to see them. My heart aches because I love them so much and that’s not an option right now.

My option is to be useful and powerful. To live isolated from the world in hopes to help save it. Maybe it feels minute to you because you’re not the only one who’s living this same mission, but it’s so much more than you see it to be. This is what sacrifice feels like.

Sacrifice is one of those words I’ve associated with some sort of martyrdom — blood, poverty, pain, lack. I’m learning that sacrifice can be something as simple as saying “see you soon” to someone you love. Sitting at your kitchen table, doing work you usually do at a desk. Skipping out on the gym. Missing happy hour.

That’s what I’m learning right now, at least. We’re all sacrificing things right now (and always, really). But together, right now, as one entire planet… we, mankind, are sacrificing together. Together we are giving up the things we need and don’t need, reseting both ourselves and our planet, in what truly is a grand attempt to save our neighbors.

Stripping life down to the bone and relearning how desperately we want to be with each other and see the world and go to work… what a beautiful paradox we’ve needed to be put in front of us.

All the rest we’ve cried and complained for is now begging for our attention. All the neighborhood kids we’ve joked about never seeing since being glued to video games are now riding their bikes sun up to sun down. This is a bigger blessing than some may see it as…

Maybe this isn’t just sacrifice, maybe this is sabbath.

To whom do I owe the pleasure of giving me forced rest, indefinite Sundays?

Why is something as simple as feeling the sun on my skin suddenly the most alive I can feel at three o’clock on a Friday afternoon?

Why is it that just recently, the oceans and the skies are clearer than they’ve been in ages?

This isn’t a time of the earth punishing us for neglecting it. This is a blessing from above, a universal systematic reset. This is an absolute blessing.

We are hardwired to connect with people and work, yes. That’s why I, and I know I don’t speak solely for myself in saying this, have had low points where I’m convinced I feel my body aching to see my people.

We’re not just programmed to connect and to work, we’re programmed to rest and be alone, practice silence and solitude, step away from the world for a bit to reset and get our heads and hearts straight so we can go back into our worlds and be more useful than when we’re drained and have worked ourselves down to the bone.

Ebbs and flows in our feelings about all this uncertainty is well warranted. I have had some of my best days recently and a few of those were immediately followed by some of my lowest.

This doesn’t have to be a time where you pick up something you’ve never done or where you veg out and devote your existence to binging all the series you can get your hands on or even where you clean out that drawer you’ve been meaning to get to forever. This time doesn’t need to be anything other than what you personally need it to be.

Amidst the sacrifice of what you knew to be normal, this is your sabbath. This is a span of weeks, maybe months where each day you can reassess and do whatever you need to do. A time where you can teach yourself what your life will be like when the world and your friends are no longer off limits, how many tasks you really need on your daily to-do list, how good you feel after taking a break and how much better you feel after.

Just like your weird middle school days weren’t forever, neither is this.

Breathe.

Listen to what you need emotionally, physically, spiritually and follow suit.

Feel the hard days and remember they don’t take away any of your strength. Feel the good days and don’t let a negative thought bog down the things you can be grateful for.

Please trust me and work to see this time as a blessing. See it from that angle, take the weight off of it.

These days aren’t forever but the way we adjust to and bounce back from them can be.

We’re going to be so much stronger so soon.