We're All Essential Right Now

 Serenity lives in the moments before dawn.  I know this, despite never having been an enthusiastic early riser.   Perhaps I spent too many years haunting the late-night world, but my body typically pleads for "just one more hour" or so whenever I respond to the demands of a typical busy day.  Yet I recognize the value of getting up early and dwelling for a few moments in the stillness of morning.  

I drove my wife to work in the darkness today and returned home for coffee and a bit of her marvelous Christmas biscotti.  Now I sit beside the window which overlooks our back yard patio, gazing at a forest newly draped in winter white.  The sun isn't up yet, but the approaching light has washed the horizon in pastel pink, purple and warm taupe.  As I note this a mourning dove lands a few feet from me.  She's extraordinary, dressed in the same hues, such a gentle and unassuming presence as she bobs across the cement looking for seed.  Her cousins are gathering at Bonnie's feeders and my cat Riley sits beside me, practicing his bird calls in a sort of desperate attempt to convince them to come and "play" with him.  His tail swishes madly back and forth, trying to dispel nervous energy.  His assassin's anxiety is both comical and sad.  His soft clicking and chirping are the only sounds in the house.  No garish TV morning news, no video game mayhem.  Just me, Riley and my other three meditative beasties, who speak only when necessary.  Coffee, half-light, silence.  Serenity makes its home here, in an ephemeral sanctuary from the deepening chaos of year 2020.

Our fortress has not kept the beast entirely at bay.  COVID-19 chased one of my daughters from her first year at college.  My other daughter is currently under house arrest, sequestered in her second quarantine in about a month.  My wife is an "essential" and we nervously watch as the virus seeps into our community who, until now, boasted of our diligence and skill at keeping the monster out.  We have family friends who have lost loved ones to COVID, who struggle to hold onto the businesses they have proudly shepherded for years, who bravely serve on the front lines in our nation's hospitals and health care facilities.  As the holidays approach, those of us who have been fortunate enough to dodge the disease are still in the thick of battle against its allies: anxiety, isolation, scarcity and economic hardship.  Those who are trying to hold our society together and preserve some sort of normalcy are the champions in this fight, so in need of our every kind word and thoughtful gesture.  I'm sure they have asked themselves a time or two why it is they continue.  Be sure to remind them as often as possible.

And what of those who have maintained all along that this is a "manufactured" crisis, that this virus has taken no greater toll on us than an annual flu, or that life must continue as normal despite the losses?  How do we respond to the denial and the callousness?  I suspect that COVID would have had a devastating impact across the globe, regardless of whether all leadership was united in outlook and approach.  The virus emerged and spread too quickly, too stealthily for anyone to assess and get ahead of the situation before it began to take its staggering toll.  Yet this is precisely why we should all have relied on the expertise of dedicated scientists from the very beginning instead of casting speed-bumps and road-blocks in their paths.  This is why obsession with international status, asset preservation and "personal freedom" have magnified the threat to everyone.  We have actively thinned the ranks of our battalions and denied our "soldiers" desperately needed support and weaponry.  Those public officials who have "collaborated" with the enemy will not be regarded kindly by history, nor can we call our fellow citizens such when they refuse to embrace the concept.   We are a society deeply wounded by this disease and the divisions it has masterfully exposed.  I suspect that no healing can begin until we have put this societal nightmare well behind us.  We can only hope that the new developments in vaccination and a more responsive government will hasten the end of it.

This will be a dark Christmas and New Year's for many among us, darkest of all for the families who have suffered through a remote vigil while their loved ones perished alone.  Darkest for those who fight day and night, past physical and emotional exhaustion, to save as many as they can, for those who brave the fear of infection to sit beside the victims as they lose the battle.  Darkest for those who have lost their jobs and perhaps their homes, who have nothing to light up their children's faces with even a momentary smile.  

We as a nation, as a world, have been here before.  Our resilience has been profoundly tested numerous times and we prevailed.  We cannot forget that.  We need to push past the anxiety, the horror, the need to escape into our personal cocoons, and rise to the occasion.  Some among us have already done so, lending their energy, muscle, treasure and marvelous creativity to the war effort.  It is up to all of us to offer what we can to each other, and most of all to those on whom this darkness has and will fall the hardest.  Give from your pantry.  Give from your wallet if you can.  Donate some positive group time on social media.  Draw from your deep well of creativity to lend a song, a poem, some artwork, your humor.  Stand outside a hospital and offer your sincere gratitude to every health care warrior who emerges from the battle.  Extend your (gloved?) hand and your forgiveness if you can.  Gift others with your prayers, your positive vibes, high-fives, a pinch of your good karma, whatever you use to summon peace and hope. Wherever you seek serenity, try to visit as often as you can in the coming days and invite someone else to visit too. 

Namaste.