Say you, say me. Say it together, awkwardly

Hello you pedal to the metal.

While our racial reckoning continues-- and perhaps prompted by the rallies and mass social movement happening right now-- there has also been a distinct uptick this week in the conversations around the pandemic-- or more specifically, conversations about relaxing the quarantine and how to manage our individual and collective efforts to reengage physically in the world and towards each other. So amongst MANY other things, I have been thinking this week about what reconnection with the physical world will look like.

And for me, I do mean "thinking" about it as opposed to "doing" in any major way (yet). In part this is because I think I have learned how to be okay with being alone. And also because I am not totally isolated, since I get to see my sister and brother-in-law (and their pup) a couple of times a week for no-touch hangouts.  However, the second wave of the virus will inevitably come, so while it is wonderful that the number of cases is going down here in Ottawa, the virus is not gone, and it just takes one unfortunate interaction for this immuno-compromised asthmatic to be sent down the river.  So for now, I am not throwing away the shackles of self-isolation. But I am thinking about what it might look like to do so. And for me, the contemplation has been a funny mixture of reluctance, desperation and curiosity.

In terms of reluctance, it took a while, but I am surprised at how accustomed I have gotten to the isolation of quarantine, and in fact how secure the apartness now makes me feel relative to the times when I do venture out into the world. We are social animals, and I would wager I was one of the more social-y ones. But I feel okay about the isolation right now despite the psychology of loneliness generally. As this article explains, according to psychiatrist Frieda Fromm-Reichmann,  “Loneliness seems to be such a painful, frightening experience that people will do practically everything to avoid it... The longing for interpersonal intimacy stays with every human being from infancy through life, and there is no human being who is not threatened by its loss.”
 

And I do long for interpersonal intimacy-- some of which one can get over zoom or in a socially distanced way, and some of which you can find in the beautiful nuance of listening in isolation or falling in love with the objects around you.  But also (insert desperation here) oh my god, what I would pay for a steady diet of daily hugs at this point. However all in all, the pain and fear of loneliness and isolation has been replaced with acceptance, finding virtual ways to be connected to the social change happening in this moment, and maybe even a bit of  successful "lemonade-making"-- to the point where I don't really feel like I want/need to transition until it is truly safe to do so for someone in my position. (Of course I say that now. Ask me again in November if we are still in the same situation.)

That said, in the spirit of making hay while the sun shines, I have been trying to cut myself a bit of slack (on a short leash) to see a few more people and am experimenting with some socially distanced walks and visits. Not just because I welcome some human connection, but also because I am also curious to start experimenting with how we are actually going to do this "coming back together" thing. 

As I was discussing with a friend this week, while it is so nice to see loved ones in person after so long, it is also super awkward right now as well. I don't think it is just because we are not used to being with each other, or that isolation has screwed around with some of our natural intuitions around connection and interaction (though I do think both of those things are true). 

I also maintain that the bulk of the awkwardness comes from the fact that there is so little to say, and yet so much to say. For many of us, our days are relatively simple and routine, lived for the most part through the screen of our computer or phone and the people in our households, and punctuated occasionally by the nuances and subtleties of a dramatically pared-down existence. So when we do come together and try to share updates about our day-to-day lives right now, what more is there to talk about but issues of internet connectivity or being excited about finding a new no-knead bread recipe?  

Except, at the same time, there rages a torrential undercurrent of unspoken drama, and THERE IS SO MUCH TO SAY!!!!  When I see someone in person whom I haven't seen for a while, I find I don't really know where to begin. So mostly we talk about bread. But in my head I am also shouting "OH MY GOD, THE PANDEMIC RIGHT?! THIS IS SO FREAKING SCARY AND UNPRECEDENTED AND ALSO SOMETIMES I DON'T MIND IT AND AM GLAD IT HAPPENED BECAUSE WE HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO RESET THE ENTIRE SOCIAL ORDER OF THE WORLD EXCEPT FOR ALL OF THE SICKNESS AND DEATH AND ECONOMIC COLLAPSE AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH ALL OF THESE FEELINGS!!! ALSO WE ARE LIVING IN A GIGANTIC MIASMA OF RACISM AND INEQUALITY AND I FEEL SO INTENSELY SAD AND ANGRY AND ASHAMED AND ALSO HOPEFUL THAT THIS IS AN OPPORTUNITY FOR MASSIVE SOCIAL PROGRESS AND ALSO SCARED BECAUSE WE REALLY NEED TO GET THIS RIGHT!!  AND ALSO WHAT IS EXISTENCE AND WHO ARE ANY OF US ANYMORE REALLY ANYWAY?!"

*And breathe*

We are living in concurrent and extreme states of mundaneness, existential dread and enormous sociocultural upheaval. So I guess it is not surprising that it is difficult to find meaningful ways into casual conversation with actual human beings. Many of us have lost touch with how to be with each other in some of those simple ways, but we also have so much to share with each other. Some of this deep sharing is happening when we have the time for longer one-on-one conversations. But sometimes it just feels like too much, or too little, or too tiring, or too scary, or too hopeful.  And so it gets left unsaid. And that is okay too. As the days and weeks and months unfold, I am curious to experiment with how to navigate it all, to explore how we will find ways to connect with each other in person again, and to communicate meaning and personal transformation in this moment and beyond. It's gonna be bumpy and awkward and uncomfortable, just like everything else right now.  But also intensely human. And I am here for it. 

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As a postscript/ speaking of people I haven't seen in a long time and probably won't see for a while: HAPPY FATHER'S DAY to my fabulous, loving, supportive Dad! We are different in so many ways (you can read his blog post from last year for a small taste), and also alike in more ways than I would sometimes care to admit-- but I am very proud of the alikeness we share. Beyond our mutual love of scrabble, I am so grateful for all that he has taught me about patience, diligence, language, creativity, leadership and enjoying life.  Thank you also for being a wonderful father even when you drive me completely bonkers-- or maybe especially when you drive me completely bonkers. Because those (not infrequent) moments show me that we can still love each other fully even in the midst of said bonkerness.* I wish we could be celebrating you in person today, but until we can, may the Q be with U #scrabblereference 

*(Editors note: For clarity, this is not an invitation to be more irritating.)                              

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But wait! Perhaps all of this talk of continued isolation is feeling a bit too intense on a sunny Sunday morning? Well too bad! For those who want to lean into the intensity and awkwardness of reconnecting with others, why not try out some eye gaze exercises to really get the heart pumping?

Still too much realness?  Then please enjoy this charming video of an albino raccoon eating a bowl of cherries.

From one socially awkward person to another, I am glad that we can navigate pandemic isolation together. I hope you enjoyed this dispatch, and have an interaction-filled week!

Until next Sunday,
The Earnest Platypus