By Brian Grant
Today has been, for the most part, a good day. I haven’t read much news. I spent the afternoon with my son and girlfriend skateboarding around the neighborhood. There was a lot of folks out and about. The weather is insanely beautiful right now. Everyone smiles and waves. It feels very peaceful. But then something slaps me in the face. A moment ago a close friend of ours was calling to find out more about the unemployment process because her and her partner are running out of money fast. We just filed for unemployment yesterday so finger’s crossed because we have enough to last this month and then we can’t pay the mortgage. Which certainly sucks, but I drove past a family of four on the street corner with the mom holding a sign ‘homeless with kids, need help’. Ironically, our neighbors randomly bought us a bunch of food from costco earlier in the morning, so we loaded up a box of things – chips, fruit, snacks, 3 gallons of water, and a blanket – and drove it to them. The oldest child picked it up from us and she was very happy, but behind the smile I could feel the uncertainty, fear, and suffering. I didn’t even know what to say except “I hope this helps”. My girlfriend is way better at this stuff than I – “do you have somewhere to boil water for the mac and cheese? do you need more blankets? This water says it’s expired but we just filled them up with fresh water. Do you need help carrying it over?” I’m just kinda standing there. I felt like I should offer up some heart warming, positive phrase “you’re in our hearts” but I couldn’t think of anything and before I knew it she had hauled the stuff over to the rest of her family in the courtyard of a closed bank of america. I just don’t fuckin know. There is so much suffering happening in the world, right now it’s very visible, but much of it is always there. Corona is just lifting the mask off. So many people are vulnerable. The people in India walking back to their villages hungry because they no longer have the daily wage they counted on. People without healthcare. People with compromised immune systems. I attended a heart tuning session with friends I met at a contemplative environmentalism workshop over the summer – very diverse age range with many living on the east coast. While this has started creeping closer to home for me – a friend of a friend that lives in our city has the virus as does her husband who is on a ventilator – it really hit me after hearing some of these folks stories. Someone’s child, who lives in another state, has the virus and is fortunately doing really well, but the instinct as a parent is to fly to your son’s side, but that is difficult right now which was hard. Another person had a close friend’s wife die in the hospital – they had to say goodbye via skype. Many of these folks are teachers, and their struggling to maintain their full time schedule while simultaneously teaching, entertaining, and caring for their kids. I’m in this boat as well, but my girlfriend is not working now so she is handling my son during my normal working hours for the most part, which is tremendously helpful. The first week he was home from school she was still working and I had a very hard time getting anything done. I’m still having a hard time, though. To be honest, my coursework and research stuff just seems trivial right now. I’m still very motivated to teach because my class has basically turned into a coronavirus support group. I’m a TA for a 100 level sustainability course with upwards of 300 students, and I get to lead a recitation section that is much more intimate with 23 students. We’ve continued to meet via zoom during our regular time and, while the class always has a contemplative aspect and tries to open a space for students to bring their full self into class, this is the primary function of the class now. We just had our third virtual class and each time our check ins get longer with more students bringing challenges to the surface. They are still having to work on their semester projects but I’ve basically said don’t worry about the previous due dates just turn things in when you can because many of them are struggling. Some have lost their part time jobs they depend on, while another is working overtime. Some are trying to get back to their home countries but can’t find flights or are worried about having to be quarantined on arrival. Others are still in student housing by themselves because their roommates have already moved out. It’s challenging for all of us.
But then there is this whole other side of the situation – the restorative side that always accompanies disruption. Dolphins are swimming in the canals of Italy, the places in India and China have blue skys that have been blocked out by pollution for years, you can actually hear the birds sing. We live close to Sky Harbor airport which typically has a plane leaving/landing every second it sounds like. It is amazing to be able to hear the birds so clearly now with plane traffic massively reduced. Not only the birds but I noticed how the wind whistles as its punctured by the spines of the saguaro. I’ve lived in the Sonoran desert almost my whole life and I’ve never heard that before. We’ve learned the names of all of our neighbors and chat with the almost daily. It’s crazy how much the Earth is healing from our pause, and it’s crazy how we are connecting because we’ve slowed down. About a month ago I was listening to a live performance by Olafur Arnolds, an Icelandic painist, and he introduced his song, Nyepi, by talking about how it is named after a Balinese holiday where the whole point is to give the Earth a break from humanity. People stay home, all the shops are closed, no one works, it’s a day of silence. And when I heard that I though, wow wouldn’t that be amazing if we could do that across the globe. And now he we are, essentially doing that. It is unfortunate that it is foregrounded by immense suffering and fear, but I truly believe this is the Earth teaching us, telling us what She needs. She needs us to slow down. To check in. I don’t know if we will learn that lesson or not. Hopefully, at least to some degree. For right now, I’m just happy to be with my family and dancing to the songs of the birds for the first time.