A number of years ago, when I was talking about the grief and anger I was experiencing when my mother was ill and dying, a wise person told me, "It's our resistance to what is that always causes the most pain." I'd never thought of that before, and it immediately struck me as true. First of all, that's exactly what I was doing -- I was trying to put everything back into a box labelled "Before." In my experience since, this remark about resistance has continued to be true. When we resist the situation in which we find ourselves, and try to make things go back to "normal" -- when "normal" is what we're wishing for, and it doesn't or can't happen -- we feel a lot of pain that comes out in a variety of ways. But when we can move toward accepting things as they are, and stop trying to insist that they change, suddenly there's some openness and softness in what felt like a hard, fixed, frightening trap. We begin to see what we can control or change, alongside that which we can't, and we also begin to see some new possibilities about how to engage with the present and the uncertain future.
I've lived through a number of personal crises, and political/national times of war, tension, and uncertainty. But I've never experienced something like the present. It's hard. There's a state of dread as we watch the case counts rise, and I feel enormous grief at the suffering the world is going through. I'm literally enraged at leaders and parties who refuse to listen to science and reason, and who care more about wealth and the economy than people's lives -- which makes me angry all over again at the people who elected them. That anger has made me pretty cranky sometimes, which I'm trying to notice and overcome, occasionally with limited success. I'm appalled at some of the cruel comments about older people that I've read on social media and in the news. And I simply fail to understand how some people in all of our communities can be in such denial of reality, or so selfish as to put others at grave risk, even though I understand the characteristics and beliefs that make people that way. Finally, because my husband has an immune issue, I'm trying to make sure I've done enough to disinfect whatever enters the apartment, from the grocery delivery to my own hands when I've gone to the basement with the recycling. It's stressful.
None of those negative emotions do any good, frankly. I've tried to turn my annoyance and fear about other people into action; I've written to the mayor's office several times about situations observed here in Montreal, and received quick, satisfactory answers that were followed up: for instance, the large children's playground nearby was being used by several clueless families on Saturday; now it's closed and has police tape around it, along with all the other public playgrounds in the city. Not my doing, I'm sure, but I know from the reply I received that my letter was read. For my own sanity, I'm trying to limit my time on social media and news-reading while staying informed. Fortunately, we're quite contented being here, engrossed in things we like to do. I remind myself that what we're doing -- staying in, not seeing others, washing our hands, getting groceries delivered, washing produce, disinfecting hard surfaces -- is following the best advice we've got. Each week, we get more used to doing things this new way, and it feels less strange.
Beyond that, it's a time to keep busy, to check in with others, to reach out when we feel weak as well as when we feel strong, and find and share the beauty that still exists everywhere. On my short walk yesterday morning, the sky was blue, the snow brilliant white, and I stopped to watch three large flocks of Canada geese flying overhead. Spring is coming, time's moving forward.
It's unlikely we'll ever go back to what was once "normal". Moving through this over the weeks and months ahead is going to take courage as well as patience, and cost us dearly in innumerable ways. But we can either ride that road rigidly, and feel every single bump, or we can let go of a little of our resistance, and soften into what is, and the journey will be easier not only on us, but on the people around us. It's also important not to be too hard on ourselves. This is rough. We're all going to fall apart sometimes, lose our tempers or patience, confront a sudden wave of anxiety. It's OK. The next breath, the next hour, the next day are all fresh chances to begin again.
Illustration: Grave stele, 5th C BC, National Archaeological Museum, Athens
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