Our
Universe
“Because
to each of us, our life is our universe.”
John
Perricone
I am
sitting here amid the clutter on my kitchen table. There’s a small Brother
sewing machine and the beginnings of a wall hanging on the other end, a plastic
bin of fabric paints, four spools of thread, an address book, several opened pieces
of mail (all bills), the tablet with all my passwords (since I can never
remember any of them), two candles and a Ming dynasty bowl that was a wedding
gift forty-seven years ago, a stack of used cloth napkins, and my empty coffee
cup. This is my universe.
My
friend Anna and I were talking on the phone last night about the latest variant
of Covid that is now the dominant strain. Suddenly, I know six people who test
positive—people who have made it their business to observe all the protocols
and have not gone out in public without a mask over their faces in two years.
We talked about how confining it is to know you cannot safely go out to dinner
or, well, anywhere else where other human beings are breathing. Even though we
may not want to go out, just knowing that we can’t feels constricting. This is
our universe right now.
There
are wonderful things happening, I’m sure, and other things that are sad, or
just normal. And yet, collectively, our universe is in the grip of an overarching,
intractable, pandemic that throws a wet blanket over anything colorful. I’ve
begun watching flash-mob videos on YouTube, just to remember how it felt to be
spontaneous and playful—dancing in the streets. My favorite is a bunch of high
school teachers in a gymnasium, dancing to Uptown Funk for their school’s
homecoming. I cry every time.
I have
noticed lately, as I’m sure you have, that people are grouchier than normal.
The cumulative stress is taking its toll on our collective mental health. We’re
driving like angry birds and cursing the gods over small irritants we wouldn’t
have noticed before.
So how do we change this
fractious universe? I don’t have the answer to that question, but I notice that
after I talk with friends or relatives on the phone, my mood it better. Human
contact that is real and intimate—that is to say, honest—is essential. Laughter
is critical. Sending cards or listening to music you love, or creating
something tasty or beautiful, reading something that brightens your mind, or
lifts your spirit—these are the lifelines that we must use to reach out and
touch the people we love. Because, in the end, this universe we live in is all
about love.
In the Spirit,
Jane
No comments:
Post a Comment