Layers of Impact and Concern
Today I am grateful for the beautiful moon and the sparkling frost on grass that greeted Oliver and I on our morning walk just now. I am grateful for "just now" too, a good place to be in unsettling and uncertain times.
I captured this "aerial view" of a frozen puddle yesterday morning. It caught my eye and mind as I walked and talked on the phone with my sister about the unfolding news and reality of the global coronavirus pandemic. "Aerial view" means I stood with my hands above my head over this 2 x 3 foot area and took a picture with my phone.
I was first struck, and heartened, by the intricate frozen layers of ice and the look of a spider web that came to mind. Nature's magic and awe, appreciated by humans like me. It was worthy of a pause and a picture. A few hours later, it was just a murky pool of dirty run-off.
Then what emerged is the analogy of the layers of impact and concern that our current times present to us all. From canceled local events that meant something to us, to statewide school closures, to restricted international travel. From loved ones on lockdown in nursing homes, to cancer patients getting chemo canceled, to our own individual fears of what we and those we care about may be or already have been exposed to.
These layers of impact and concern will likely deepen and widen in the coming days and weeks. We will need calm support, collective energy, and most certainly our shared humanity and kindness, to help one another through this.
This icy masterpiece gives us hope. It will evaporate and dry up, give way to new grass and greenery, and become a different kind of masterpiece. I trust that we will also move through these uncertain times and emerge with some new humility and grace. That our world will emerge more unified by our commonalities and less divided by our differences.
I captured this "aerial view" of a frozen puddle yesterday morning. It caught my eye and mind as I walked and talked on the phone with my sister about the unfolding news and reality of the global coronavirus pandemic. "Aerial view" means I stood with my hands above my head over this 2 x 3 foot area and took a picture with my phone.
I was first struck, and heartened, by the intricate frozen layers of ice and the look of a spider web that came to mind. Nature's magic and awe, appreciated by humans like me. It was worthy of a pause and a picture. A few hours later, it was just a murky pool of dirty run-off.
Then what emerged is the analogy of the layers of impact and concern that our current times present to us all. From canceled local events that meant something to us, to statewide school closures, to restricted international travel. From loved ones on lockdown in nursing homes, to cancer patients getting chemo canceled, to our own individual fears of what we and those we care about may be or already have been exposed to.
These layers of impact and concern will likely deepen and widen in the coming days and weeks. We will need calm support, collective energy, and most certainly our shared humanity and kindness, to help one another through this.
This icy masterpiece gives us hope. It will evaporate and dry up, give way to new grass and greenery, and become a different kind of masterpiece. I trust that we will also move through these uncertain times and emerge with some new humility and grace. That our world will emerge more unified by our commonalities and less divided by our differences.
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