Notes on Surviving a Pandemic
Step One
Stay at home.
Step Two
If you must leave your house, wear a mask, keep your distance, and wash your hands thoroughly upon your return. Keep an eye on any symptoms you may experience and, if necessary, self-isolate.
Step Three
Create coping mechanisms, a shield, armour if you like, to allow yourself to adjust to the conditions described in steps one and two above.
Suggested coping mechanisms…
Remind yourself (and proclaim loudly and often to friends on Zoom and family beside you) just how lucky you are. So, extremely lucky. Why, look at this house you own with its multiple rooms for each member of the family. This salary that continues to flow. The comfort and ease of your confinement. The family time, at one time scarce and precious, now so...all the time. And how could you possibly complain when those around you have it so much worse. The fear of the frontline worker, the despair of the low income single parent, the indescribable, incalculable loss of the child not in school. Yes, you decide, you truly are #blessed, and any thought to the contrary is the very epitome of late-stage capitalism and white privilege.
Now… you may find that despite your best efforts, there are moments when the strategy outlined above fails you. You may find yourself peering down a long tunnel. And, although there is a dim light at the end of that tunnel, the way is damp and dark and beset with spectres ready to claw and scratch until they infect you with their gloom. One way to escape the tunnel is through a practice of focus on ordinary things. This involves a concentration on small, daily activities that renders them close to miraculous. Notice the way the steam rises from your morning cup. Allow your mind (your ‘writerly’ mind if you are that way inclined) to attempt to describe this steam. Words and phrases that might conjure this perfect thing to someone else. Maybe words like lazy, silky, alive, or fragrant. Try to see the thing wholly, smell it, taste it, touch it. Stand by your window for ten minutes watching two chickadees play on a branch. Allow your gaze to fall on the changing orange sky outside your living room window until someone asks, “are you watching this show, or what?” Listen to a string quartet version of a popular song and notice the perfect scratchy call of horsehair on string, the intentional tremor of fingers. Imagine the sheen of an upper lip as she reaches for the note and loses herself in the flow. Perhaps you’re transported to a concert hall, you smell the soap and aftershave and woolen coat of a man beside you. A stranger. You are closely surrounded by strangers, all entranced by the music. Suddenly your throat is closing and your chest is tight. You’re having trouble breathing and your eyes are wet. All these human beings, together. The beauty is overwhelming.
Oh dear. That wasn’t terribly helpful, was it? OK, deep breath. #blessed.
