I heard someone on the radio say this morning that this year it seems that spring has not really happened, . Not because it's been unseasonably cold, it's actually been lovely. But for not having anyone to share it with, or talk to about it, due to the safe distancing during this pandemic. I find this rather curious. For me, this is like the first of all springs, it has been so lovely. I have no one to share it with. But that doesn't matter to me. The beauty of this spring has reassured me that nature and life go on, despite this pandemic, and despite our many, and sometimes disproportionate anxieties and fears. I have gone through much of my life not really that connected or feeling that connected to others. My own family in various stages turned against me and ostracized me, and now I am completely alone in the world. But I still feel connected to others. Rather than extinguish my capacity for love, this has only increased and strengthened my resolve to live as a person who loves, cares for and celebrates others, nature and this earth we all live on. I have been betrayed over and over again by false friends, but now I see myself as a friend to whomever will count me worthy of their friendship, and now I have some very dear and close friends in my life.
I am not sorry for myself. I have benefited greatly from these challenges. They have made me stronger, more independent and more creative and resourceful. I have become resilient. Unlike many people, I have not lived with any sense of entitlement or privilege. Even though I am not a person of colour, through much of my youth I was often harassed by police, for being poor, of course. I have never lived feeling in control of my life. I have always been poor, and at times, very isolated. Now that we are in this pandemic and have to isolate and distance ourselves from one another, I feel that I have an advantage over others. This is nothing strange to my experience. And even if it kind of sucks at times not being able to visit friends in a coffee shop, video chat is way better than nothing. Plus, I can still be in weekly, sometimes daily contact with friends in Colombia and Costa Rica and as a bonus I get to speak Spanish almost every day.
Yesterday morning, I ran into an old friend who was having her morning cigarette on her apartment balcony. We stopped to chat for a while and she remarked how I appear to be thriving during this crisis. We both share the expectation that this pandemic is going to be, in her words, a portal, to open up our lives and change us in some important and meaningful ways. My friend, by the way, is a famous Vancouverite who for many years has advocated and supported people who are homeless. Yes, Judy Graves, whom I salute in this blog post.
I don't think that a lot of people have been emotionally or mentally prepared for any of this. They have never really been tested, so there is little wonder that fifty percent of Canadians are reporting now that they are suffering in their mental health. For me, aside from the fear and anxiety that has polluted our air even worse than car exhaust, this has been a boon. Yes, I do enjoy a little bit of schadenfreude, knowing now that a lot of the same people who have previously rejected and marginalized me, can now get a taste of what it's like to be me and the many other people they have treated like garbage.
Speaking of schadenfreude, I also get to righteously gloat at the long line ups of pathetic undeclared alcoholics waiting to get into their local essential service (aka liquor store), to obtain enough beer, wine or something stronger to keep them comfortably numb for awhile. Of course they are weak, fragile, and in many cases addicts, or alcoholics. I guess I should feel sorry for them. But I don't. To me they are pathetic, and among the finest examples of people who would rather run away and hide under a rock than bravely face the storm. I think what makes me so willing to mock and make fun of them is that they to me are symbolic of the very people, ordinary middle class folk, who have long treated me like garbage. But I am stronger than they are. Some of them now know it, and are less than likely to forgive me, not for being weaker, but for being stronger than they are. For people with status and privilege, long accustomed to having less fortunate folk under their boot-heel, this can be the most egregious of insults, knowing that your supposed inferior has the advantage over you. That is the very stuff and substance of revolutions.
But really, despite my hard and cold heart towards some people, I still have to give heed to the call on my life to love others and to be compassionate. Perhaps my compassion is going to be rather dry-eyed at times, but they are still my brothers, they are still my sisters. Perhaps entitled reptiles, but underneath, they are human, they are fragile, and would benefit more from a hug than a kick in the teeth. Perhaps what they really need is both a hug and a kick in the ass. I still haven't quite figured out in which order, Gentle Reader.
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