I Don’t Want to Go Back to Normal

I don’t want to go back to normal.

Let’s be candid, the normal we yearn to find our way back to was not all that great, for most. These were not our halcyon days. I hope we use this time to look inward as we reach a hand out. Let’s reflect on what we were and what we want to be. This country has a complex, troubled history of inequities and injustice. There are too many to list, and frankly it makes my head hurt and heart collapse. We have myriad ills to cure when the pandemic passes, and we must make every decision through the lens of our most vulnerable.

But let’s peek into our daily lives put on hold. We are settling in, nesting. Instagram is bursting with photos of freshly baked bread, and people are giving play by play of sourdough starter, admittedly a welcome bright spot in a world without sports as a distraction. (Sidebar: I love my Virginia Cavaliers and the Packers, but mostly I appreciate the snacks and camaraderie. I don’t care much for the actual sport playing.) I love seeing families eating together and kids learning to cook. I’ve noticed teenagers out walking with their families, for even they tire of being cooped up in their rooms. Sidewalk chalk adorns the neighborhood with delightful messages of hope. Even in these troubling times, we are finding joy.

We have shifted from being people who consume rather than create, but being sequestered at home has made us all creators of sorts. We putz in the workshop, doodle, pick up long forgotten watercolors, dabble in coding, strum a guitar, bake cakes from scratch, and write. This pandemic has given us license to step off that unhealthy, stressful hamster wheel of productivity that pushes us to perform. Gumption and grit will make way for compassion and thoughtfulness. We have this gift of time to be pensive and intentional. There are no badges for busyness, and in fact, it was killing us. 

We drive through for meals that we eat in our cars. Children are tethered to a schedule and face impossible demands. Parents try to do too much and end up half-assing it most of the time. We rush. We fret. We disrespect. 

I don’t want to go back to normal.

I want us to be phoenices who rise and spread our wings to envelope more in their folds rather than flutter away in search of the next best thing. All this social distancing should spark our primal need to convene and hold each other close. We as a species are not meant to be alone and untouched. What I hope for is a new normal that is guided by people over profits, gratitude over greed, and hope over hate.

 

My new normal looks like this:

We are more neighborly; more time on the front stoop than the back deck

Embrace a slower pace; stop and smell those roses!

Let pedestrians cross at the crosswalk (It’s the law, after all!)

Take more walks.

Visit more parks and green spaces in your city.

Wave to strangers.

Make eye contact.

Cook.

Eat meals together as a family.

Use your fancy china and crystal. Pull out grandma’s linens.

Make the everyday special.

Read.

Write in a journal. It’s cathartic.

Dance in your sock feet in the family room, even when DJ D-Nice doesn’t host a virtual dance party.

Shop local.

Become a doer, a thinker, a helper.

Participate in your community.

Fill vases or mason jars or chipped glassware with blooms or weeds from your yard.

Write cards and letters.

Hug the people you love.

By all means, let’s be rid of this gross western culture of shaking hands for good! My friend Stacey told me about the most lovely greeting from Liberia during the ebola outbreak. Instead of reaching your hand out, touch your hand to your heart, look the other person in the eye, and nod in greeting. In my new normal, everything starts from the heart.