What Matters

Close to five years ago, our world got turned upside down. An unknown, unseen critter spread like wildfire across the continents, arresting our brains, bodies and mental health. I remember being horribly scared, reading and researching to discover how to be prepared for the worst. I had a plan to sequester the sick, even down to duct-taping doors shut against the sickroom. Ken was out in the middle of it with his job at a building-supply place...thousands of people breathing by every hour. He would stop on his way home and get our groceries. Each day when he got home, I begged him to strip down and throw his "contaminated" clothes in the washing machine. I washed, yes, washed the groceries. I slathered myself with sanitizer (which cost a fortune) and stocked up on N95 masks. We had virtual church for awhile, and sometimes just sat on the front porch and listened to the neighboring pastor yell angrily from his perch across the street. I'm not sure he's read his Bible in context, because God has more than one side. He is both love and truth, and much, much more. 

We were scared. Well, not Ken. He refused to be afraid, put his boots on every morning and went to work, mask hanging off his ear. He wasn't stupid, but didn't let anxiety draw him up into a twist like I did. I am still grateful for that leadership, and I slowly began to relax and realize that I couldn't put life on hold. Better to live or die, than to shrink up into a corner. 

Here we are, these years later, but still affected by what happened. Our social lives changed, our trust changed, we became more cynical and way more attached to our devices. We learned that we could drill into this little 3x6 inch screen and have all the entertainment, information and music we ever wanted. We all contracted ADHD in short order, unable to focus for longer than a few minutes. In places where we were required to wait -- doctor's offices, the queue at the DMV, the fast-food line in our cars -- we pulled up our phones and lightning-scrolled through reams of information and sound bytes. No need for eye contact or interaction with other humans. They were busy doing the same thing. News, weather and "truth" were all obtained and possibly manipulated by various entities. We gathered like moths to an enticing, warm flame, unaware that we might be burned. 

I'm trying to quit all that, but it is nigh impossible. My business, contacts, emails, calendar, maps and news all feed through that little monster. It's marvelously convenient and helpful, but like all good things, too much is counterproductive. I'll do better one day, only to spend most of the next day in the ozone of social media and not get my kitchen cleaned up or the laundry done, much less talk meaningfully to anyone. I'm usually busy, but when I'm filling in the spaces with basically meaningless drivel, what have I done with my life? It takes over when we least suspect it. So enticing, the quick fix of all these bites of information. 

Over the course of a trip with a good friend, my phone refused to work. A few stray texts drifted in, social media was nonexistent, and there seemed to be a fence between me and any incoming or outgoing calls (even though I paid the extra for access). I lost three client deals because I was just not there to do them and couldn't communicate. When the boat landed and I assessed the damage (which was considerable), I agonized, chewed, fretted and summarized what happened, including my faults in this scenario. Then a pleasant, settled and happy balm spread through my heart. I had a week without interruption, time with an old friend, laughter and contemplation and good, old-fashioned human interaction with her and also the many kind people on the trip that we encountered.  We lived to fly another day, clients got what they needed, and the world didn't stop turning. Joie de vivre.