Failure to sacrifice is a disturbing sign
The pandemic tested us. And we failed. I’m using the global “we” here. With rare exceptions we, the Earth’s people, failed to come to terms properly with a threat that pales in comparison to another that looms large, has plenty of scientist-affirmed evidence to support it, is as existential a threat as we’ve ever had and is getting worse by the day.
Masks, many of us continue to contend, are inconvenient. Forcing us to wear them violates our civil liberties and threatens our individual freedom to live our lives as we please (we can’t really but that’s another issue). We want and need life the way we want it — the way it used to be — irrespective of the danger.
Interestingly we’ve proven time and time again that we can rally around our neighbors when tragedy strikes. Hurricanes, terrorist attacks and fires test our resolve, but we fight back hard and persevere. We come together and are one. But then, this year, when we were called to higher and loftier duty, we crumbled. A higher duty awaits us.
Global climate change is subtle by comparison. It doesn’t slap you in the face like a tsunami. It’s a very slow building storm. There are enough signals and evidence that it is real, destructive, unforgiving and possibly unstoppable. Can we rise to the challenge of changing our behavior to alter its path? I haven’t seen any evidence from our behavior this year that we can.
The changes we’ll need to make will also be inconvenient and will be perceived by many to be too draconian to bear — despite the consequences. “It hasn’t slapped me in my face, so I’m not sure I buy into the hype.”
What I’ve learned from this year is that in the face of another clear and present danger (that is already here), we are likely to not fare well at that as well. We have many, many more difficult years coming that are not going to be as easy as 2020.
Paul Jester, Poway
more repetitions to my twice-a-day practice of letting God know how grateful and blessed I was. With these practices I wove new threads in the tapestry.
In March, I also began taking myriad classes learning first about Zoom by which I explored so many academic topics and joined many armchair travelers. I learned to do this on my iPhone and iPad because my computer died March 15. The learning added new threads to the tapestry as did learning to use a new operating system at the end of April when I got a new computer.
By the end of March, the supervisor of my volunteer work as a dementia care coach had figured out a way for me to provide service virtually while being HIPAA compliant.
In April and May, I undertook massive spring cleaning, removing threads from the tapestry, which made the tapestry easier to see. That was Round 1. The round included going through at least 3 feet of recipes collected over decades, discarding most. The effort set me up for making dishes never prepared before from the recipes I saved. Prepping, cooking and baking were easily paced because I was cooking for one. I ate well, and still do. Time in the kitchen has been a form of meditation.
The time in late spring and summer of racial unrest created the opportunity to talk with friends and family about truths about ourselves and the U.S. that we wanted to be different. I took time to listen to webinars, participate in Zoom dialogues, and read books about racism. And still do.
And then it was late summer and early fall: Time for clearing Round 2. Massive for Round 1 was an understatement. In Round 2 I downsized dramatically, taking joy in donating much that had meant so much. Throughout the year I’ve realized and experienced that I don’t need much and still have more than I need.
And here I am at the end of 2020, a year for which my word was joy. (I have chosen theme words for the past 20 years.) Time in 2020 was richly rewarding and by the end of April I was able to find joy in the everyday nuances and repetitions of life. In 2020 I spent time going even deeper inward. I was reweaving threads of time in the tapestry of life.
So, what is TIME? The Immediate Moment’s Energy.
Renée Barnow, University City