For many of us, visceral images surface when remembering the date "9/11/2001." I know exactly where I was: driving to school, sipping peppermint tea from my insulated car mug, listening in shock to the radio announcer decry the occurring-as-I-drove-attack on the World Trade Center's Twin Towers. My tires squealed as I slammed the gear shift into "Park," hurtling toward my classroom. Faculty gathered students, all of us terrified chicks, as the sky literally fell. In one teacher's portable classroom, all eyes glued to the tv cart: We witnessed, we shared hugs, we cried, to titrate live coverage of the second tower's collapse as we watched. Sharing our common vulnerabilities, we opened our hearts to each other, seeking solace. I will never forget those students and colleagues, those images, or the ways in which our shared caring shaped how we navigated the traumas of 9/11.
Perhaps you've felt similar waves of shock and bewilderment in the last six or seven months of 2020, in this truly singular time: with COVID 19, with the groundswell of social change spurred by the deaths of George Floyd and Elijah McCain, with western infernos and Gulf Coast hurricanes, with political divisions and a vacant Supreme Court seat to further challenge the nation before this November's historical election. Sometimes, things can feel like "too danged much." Where were YOU when . . .? Brain research confirms when trauma floods the brain with "fight or flight" neurotransmitters, human learning and creativity come to a screeching halt. What to do?
In moments of kindness I experience hope that soothes the sense of overwhelm: My neighbors and I share fresh produce, hand wipes, coveted cans of garbanzo beans and little treasures: Bob Marley's biography, favorite stones collected from Colorado camping trips, a miniature music box that cranks by hand. In years to come, when I think of the "Season of COVID," what will come to my heart and mind when someone asks, "Where were you when . . .?" is the day a friend drove 45 minutes from her home to deliver toilet paper to another family who had none, while one of my neighbors (whom I only know in offering a warm greeting to his Golden Retriever) called a locksmith when I locked myself out (no phone, no money, no idea. . .)
In this "unprecedented time," when you will almost certainly find yourself overwhelmed in helping your children with virtual learning, or facing fears about catching COVID in school, or uncertainty about your jobs or their sports, or your family's health, or incomes, or friends and family in nursing homes, or holiday travels, or, or, or. . . the sharing in small acts of kindness helps our limbic systems to settle back into peace. For students, this is especially important when faced with the steep 2020 learning curve of life.
Please remember the practicality of being kind to yourself. Really. Stop and breathe. Let some things be done imperfectly. Laugh at yourself. Please try to remember that so few things REALLY matter. At the end of the day, at the end of a life, we can only take with us the love we have shared. Please be kind to your neighbors. Please be kind to strangers (in healthy, socially distant ways.) Remember that fear and grief can masquerade as prickles or irritation or rage. Let yourself feel. Tears soften. Sharing fear soothes its grip. Let others feel and hear their feelings without offering suggestions or fixes. Remember (thank you, Les Avery), that we do not have to scratch too far beneath the surface to find that all humans have the same needs and feelings. What will arise in your mind and heart when someone asks, "Where were YOU during the Season of COVID 19?"
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