“The problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world”
We used to care about ourselves. About our possessions and status and things that we wanted to get. We worried about which new car we would be getting when our lease expired. It had to be the kind of car that let everyone know how much money we had — but it couldn’t be too fancy or expensive, lest people get the wrong idea about us and think we were just showing off. We worried about which restaurant we would go to on Saturday night. It needed to be the new in place so that we could post a picture of “dinner with friends” to let everyone know that we were at a great place having a great time (even if we weren’t). We sat in dark, loud, overly heated rooms eating mesclun salads and straining to hear the person speaking across the table, just so we could say we went there. It mattered. It mattered even more if we weren’t there and had to endure the shame of missing out.
We got up early to sign up for our favorite spin class to make sure we got the bike we wanted with the instructor we wanted. We got mad and complained when we didn’t. Really complained. Threatened to quit the gym and never come back. Then tried again the next day.
We used to care about which side of the political divide was winning. We sat and watched hours of cable television that did nothing but reinforce what we already believed. Rather than trying to learn something new or hear a different point of view, we spent hours in an echo chamber repeating over and over again that we were right and they were wrong. We were good and they were bad. We made broad, uneducated judgements about things we didn’t know about and people we didn’t know, without ever bothering to actually learn about them. We copied and posted articles that others wrote on our Facebook walls to let everyone on the other side know how wrong and bad they were. We shared cute memes that had cartoon images of our guy beating up their guy. It made us feel good. We felt like we were involved in politics. Like we had a say in government. Like we had the ability to get others to admit that they were wrong. We thought that was advocacy. The louder we yelled the more important we felt. We argued with friends. We ruined dinner parties. We stopped talking to people.
Stopped talking to people.
And we worked. Oh how we worked. Not just at work, but at home and on weekends. We stared at our smart phones and responded to emails instead of being present and in the moment. We traveled and left our family so we could visit the client or close the deal. We missed things. Things that mattered. We lost track of time and didn’t call our parents or children to tell them we loved them. We didn’t call them to tell them that we were just thinking about them. We were too busy thinking about ourselves.
We worried about little things. Things that mattered to us in the moment. We had safety and health. We had shelter and food. We had money and possessions. We had more than we needed. We focused on our little selves and our little problems because we never had to worry about the big stuff.
Stuff like survival.
Now we realize that our little problems “don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world”. Now we are fighting for survival. Both physical and financial. Now we have seen our life change over night. The things we worried about a month ago seem really small now. Small compared to how many people will contract this virus. Small compared to how many lives will be lost. Small compared to how many people will lose their jobs and their life savings. Small compared to how many lives will be altered forever.
Now we worry about the healthcare worker on the front line who every day is exposed to the germs that transmit the virus that take away lives. The healthcare worker with inadequate protection that goes home every night to their family. Or more likely, the healthcare worker that decides to separate from their family for weeks at a time so as not to expose them. We worry about the supply of protective equipment and ventilators and hospital beds. We worry about the small business owner who has to close and lay off all of his employees. We worry about the teachers who try to educate their students from home. We rush to the grocery store to get our hands on whatever we can, including paper towels and toilet paper. We watch the news every night and see the totals of cases and deaths rise; And we realize that we are not safe anymore. That we actually have to worry about big things now.
It’s amazing what a global pandemic will do to your perspective.
But now, maybe, when this is over we will learn to look at life through a different lens. Maybe, we will learn to enjoy the sunshine. Maybe, we will reach out to people we love more often. Maybe, we will be kinder to each other and listen to different points of view; And not judge people without walking in their shoes. Maybe, we will have empathy. Maybe we will focus on bigger issues, like protecting the planet and feeding the poor; And being responsible citizens. Maybe we will learn to value things differently. Maybe, healthcare workers and educators and first responders will get the admiration and income they deserve. Maybe, we will finally understand that healthcare is a right and not a privilege. Maybe, we will appreciate the value of all human lives.
