The Day the World Slowed Down
The day the world slowed down, people were seen at home, in the middle of the day - fixing their fences, planting flowers and waving at neighbors as they did. Each person bound by the prospect of the unknown. Willing, at last, to spend a moment "in the moment". Connecting with each other more than they had in years, though socially separated by the distance of a few feet.
Teenagers, for the first time in decades, were barraging each other with Nerf darts - using trees as protective shields, like they did when they were kids. Gone were the pressures of fitting in with the crowd, because there was no crowd.
Mothers were playing catch with their sons. Daughters were painting their fathers' nails, providing a brief (but albeit necessary) reprieve from the fearful markets and tough business decisions resting on his shoulders. A true familial role reversal, because - in this strange moment - traditional roles ceased to exist.
Schools were out for the summer, but also the spring. Replaced instead by home-taught lessons, not necessarily thought to be going well by either party (parent or student), yet memorable. Harking back to days of old. Lessons these days were less about the Three Rs and more about how to persist through trying times; not just to live, but to learn and to thrive.
News stations, papers and digital media replayed facts - some scientific, some manipulated - of the ongoing crisis. So much so that people began, for the first time in a long time, to unplug. Not due to lack of concern, but more as a protective measure, rooted in basic human behavior which tells us to turn away from fear, if we don't yet have all the tools to fight it.
Stores shut down, and restaurants were open, but barely. Thus, a revival began of homemade meals and family time. And with no "busyness" to cloud the dinner table, families began to talk about real things. Deep things. Feelings and beliefs. Things that mattered.
Friends from across the city, country and world began hosting Facetime hangouts, and Webex calls - not to catch up on business, but on life. They danced together. And sang. They taught, and they learned.
In fact, these spontaneous "conference calls" crashed the traditional systems - disconnecting one too many scheduled business calls, so that leaders were forced to replace meetings and wasted time with emails and a renewed focus on simplicity. Businesses began prioritizing the health and well-being of their employees, and "two weeks" was replaced with the time needed to heal.
The world's obsession with sports gave way to people actually playing them (in small groups of course, but none so small that fun wasn't had). Professional games weren't broadcast, and leagues took pause - but wiffleball in parks and basketball in cul-de-sacs returned, reminding us that this is where it all started in the first place.
The search for celebrity, fame and wealth turned into the sacrifice of these things, for the benefit of the greater good. Concerts were held online, for free - focused solely on raising spirits instead of profits. Monetary funds were raised, instead, for those who really needed it; the sick and newly-unemployed, via Go Fund Me accounts and Facebook donations. And people donated, to people they didn't even know. Unselfishly, because they could....because they cared.
Then, almost unexpectedly, mother nature blossomed. Not just because it was spring, but because she was at rest. Less traffic in water channels led way to a clarity not seen in decades. Halted factory production cleared the smog that cloaked cities and the towns right outside them, opening the blue sky up to millions who had begun to think the sky was actually grey. Streets that were once paved in traffic, opened freely to bike riders, joggers, and strollers. Neighbors ran into each other on sidewalks in a friendly way, instead of bumper-to-bumper, at traffic lights.
Now...this is not to say this new world was blissful, or calm. Or all that wonderful. In many ways, it was the darkest of times.
Full of sickness, economic hardship, and death.
Yet, within the darkness that covered us all, the light of humanity peeked through as a silver lining. So that through the dark, we also saw light. And through death - and all the fear and pain that came with it - our lives slowly began to renew.
There's something very familiar about that revelation, isn't there? Something that maybe...just maybe, we all need to be reminded of.
