The meaning of the time
No rulers, no masters
These days fear of death and disease dominate our thoughts as we retreat into the safety of our homes—those of us that have such a luxury—while everywhere, there is a rush to find answers, cures, rainbows, anything that gives us the hope of escape and a return to what we ironically called, “NORMAL”.
Millions of us fight the urge to break free of the monotony of stay-at-home days—but the fear of death and disease keep us in our place. Millions more fight to maintain the social structures we rely on, risking their lives and those of their families. Too many lose that battle, succumbing to the disease. Who will replace them? No one is expendable, we tell ourselves. But it seems to our “rulers” many of us are expendable. Money is to be made off of workers, spending on them only to the extent necessary to keep making money off of them.
In certain sections of the country, the economic imperative overrides concerns for the well-being of citizens. We are a country where the elderly, sickly and poor are deemed a liability—consumers of the public’s resources—while their contributions to society are discounted. How do we reconcile that with our professed belief that no one is expendable?
What lessons will inform our behaviors as our societies return to functioning? Will the demands of business continue to dominate all other considerations? Will “essential workers” continue to be seen as essential? Will we take responsibility for the enormous damage we have inflicted on the ecosystem and the threat that entails to our own survival? Will we still need to keep killing each other in our grotesque “little wars”. Or, will we succumb to the norms of virtual living and keep pounding the same nail in our coffin?
Every day, I become more confused, overwhelmed and dismayed at my impotence and lack of influence. What can an ordinary citizen do?
The virus and our reaction to it have exposed so many rotten aspects of our human civilization. For those with a conscience, it is a shameful legacy we leave to the coming generations. We should have done better. Can we still?
I sound angry and I am. The temptation to place blame is profound. But the genesis of our crisis is buried layers deep in time and assumptions. Even if I could penetrate the history of our missteps—what good would it do? Instead, I am left with the desperate hope that what is good in us will prevail—somehow. That this crisis will tear enough of the fabric of modern life, to shock us out of our consumption-induced coma and incite us to action—if for no other reason than to save ourselves.
Still, even as I wallow in this cloud of answerless questions, there are sweet notes in the air and I find grace in them. The welling-up of shared love and creativity from citizens around the world are a soothing balm. Late at night, as I struggle to find sleep, I search for stories of humans making beauty and choosing to care.
Like so many others, I have taken up my camera to document the comings and goings in my neighborhood. For the first time in many years, I look closely at the corners, planes and volumes of the rooms in my house. In a meditation on light and shadow, I follow the course of sunlight as it moves from east to west through windows and across surfaces. I document these too.
Roaming the empty streets of my city, I meet artists painting boarded-up storefronts with exuberant imagery full of life and passion—in defiance of death and disease. How is that as individuals we are such miracles but so often act as monsters when we come together?
My every day begins and ends with the search for peace and every day that search settles on the words of Rumi. “Only lovers have peaceful hearts, free from striving for more and more.”
Let’s love each other. Please.