Small Mercies

 It is dawning on many of us that the coronavirus will disrupt our lives for many more months. We are bracing ourselves now for wave of infections, and the winter has not started yet. Surely there will be at least one further wave in the new year, though the exact timing will vary by region. After that we can be a bit more optimistic, from the possible combination of a widely available vaccine, the convenience of a do-it-yourself instant test, the return of warmer weather and further improvements to treatments.

 

In most countries we will have to live with the existing diet of restrictions. We will have to wear masks in public, avoid large gatherings, work from home where possible, accept constraints on schooling and live without any live culture. The only places where the restrictions can be less are where a combination of isolation and effective testing and tracing can eliminate the virus and stamp it out immediately whenever it reappears.

 

It is unfashionable to praise China, and of course the Chinese erred at the very start of the pandemic and in maintaining food practices that made it more likely in the first place. But it is wonderful how compliance and technology have enabled China to remove most restrictions. China is not an isolated island like New Zealand or even Taiwan, but a huge landmass with porous borders and high levels of internal travel. Yet they have suppressed the virus. Last week a Chinese city with the population of New York City was tested en masse. We tend to scoff at such things, saying we would not like to live in a country of such strict requirements to comply with state instructions. But when I think about it, just now I’d much rather live in China than in the shambles of the USA.

 

It reminds me of when I was growing up in the UK and we scoffed at the USA for its perfect teeth and two car families and its air conditioning and suburban mansions. We told ourselves we would not like to live in such a place, but we were lying to cover our envy and our shame. I suspect that over the next thirty years we, especially Americans, will have ever-increasing cause to create similar lies about China.

 

As we are forced to accept the reality of continuing restrictions, virus fatigue is becoming more prevalent, and I fear that many people will slide into depression. As humans we can endure a lot, but endurance is much easier when it is time limited. We will all have to work even harder to keep ourselves cheerful and to help those around us who are vulnerable.

 

We are especially at risk here in the USA, because we have a second reason to become depressed, namely the shameful politics. I predict that this too will have a dawning reality, soon after November third. If Trump should somehow win that dawning reality will be truly horrific, but we also will have to face up to consequences if he loses. Trump won’t just go away. Indeed, I see in his recent tactics that he is less interested in winning and more interesting in creating a loyal base to maintain a lucrative celebrity brand as a former president. He is stoking up his base more than ever, and doing so by casting suspicions and hate and conspiracy. He can use all this after a defeat, to the continuing cost of all of us.

 

So how can we avoid depression? One immediate remedy is to turn off twitter and facebook for a few weeks. I watched the first presidential debate but have decided to avoid the second one – why should I condemn myself to another night of lost sleep?

 

Part of the wider answer lies in counting our blessings. Firstly, most of us can recognise that our own hardships pale into insignificance compared with many others. I cannot sing or go to concerts, poor me. But I do still have an income and a bank balance and a home and a family and robust health. Perhaps sacrificing a few restaurant meals is not too bad when we think of what others are going through.

 

Then there are all the small blessings we can enjoy. Recently, I’ve paid special attention to relishing those things that were unavailable in April but possible now. I find it especially important to do this, because I fear the next move is more likely to take us back towards April than forwards into more possibilities.

 

One blessing is the return of live sports. Stuck indoors, we need some distractions, and live sports are important for me. I have got used to the absence of crowd noise. I especially applaud the organisers of those sports that have managed to return relatively safely. 

 

Three weeks ago the indoor pool at my local gym reopened, and I have resumed swimming. In truth I never enjoyed it much, swimming was always little more than the least painful way to avoid getting fatter, but now I am making sure I am thankful that I can swim.

 

A couple of months ago we started going to regular mass. We attend the church where I sang before the pandemic, and of course I miss that terribly, and it would even be preferable if others were singing beyond a lone cantor. But mass is still calming and beautiful and a purpose to leave the house and a source of community, with friendly faces even if we cannot see smiles. I also volunteer cantor myself now at another church, so can perform at least once a week.

 

Then last week I went back for the first time to the old folks home where we volunteer, to drive a resident to a medical appointment. This involved two long commutes there on public transport, the first of them in pouring rain to take a coronavirus test – three hours arduous travel for one minute of unpleasant activity. But wow, did I appreciate the opportunity to serve there again, even if I had to stay in the reception area and met very few old friends.

 

I can add in many other blessings, from increased family time to walking and reading and digital choirs. But there is some extra magic from being able to experience something that had been taken away for a while, especially when there is a risk that it might be taken away again. These are things to cherish.

 

I noticed one rather sad feature when I visited the home. I had expected a warm and exuberant welcome. Usually the place is full of kind outgoing human energy, from residents, staff and nuns alike. This time people were courteous, but some of the energy was not there.

 

It reminded me very strongly of the time in my life when I associated with addicts and their friends and families. I noticed that these people had learned behaviour to help them endure hardship and prepare for likely setbacks. They tended to be rather introverted and stoic. They celebrated small successes and constantly seemed to expect problems and used some of their energy internally as a reserve for when things would go wrong.

 

I found it an intensely sad way to live but also an impressive one. A life without colour or optimism or exuberance is a limited one, but somebody prepared to sacrifice such things deserves congratulation. Many of the teachings and sayings of the twelve step processes encouraged this sort of attitude.

 

This was exactly the attitude I encountered at the home. Of course enduring the pandemic there is tougher than it is for most of us. Residents are largely confined to their rooms and the fear of the virus is everywhere. Masks are also a bigger hardship for the hard of hearing.

 

So, unless we are lucky enough to live in China or New Zealand, we need to knuckle down for many more months of restrictions punctuated by setbacks. We can cope if we look after each other and if we look after ourselves. Counting our blessings is perhaps our most powerful tool.