I bet no one had predicted what a year this 2020 would turn out to be when we were celebrating in those New Year Eve parties A global pandemic, sickness and death, lockdowns and unemployment, social isolation, public demonstrations for the deaths of black people in the hands of police, elation the pandemic was on its way out, opening up business and society. And then breaking the rules, resurgence of cases, retreat on opening up.
So we march into the summer months of July and August carrying all this baggage of emotions, memories, experiences, losses and grief that will mark our lives forever, if not exactly afraid at least concerned about what awaits us on the other side of the season when fall returns. Here are some thoughts I take with me into the summer.
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The return to normalcy could have been a lot smoother and less risky and reversible if we all had displayed temperance and wisdom. If we had eased our lives into the joys we had missed instead of binging in them. If our elected officials had the wisdom to go slow and mandate the precautions needed to keep the virus away. Instead we treated Nature with hubris and we lost. With new cases surging at alarming rates, the reopening of the economy is now threatened and America finds itself unwelcomed to parts of the world that unlike us continue to reopen while they keep cases down. Failing to realize we are all in together, states, like Florida and Texas, now condemn us in the Northeast to international distancing as a result of their antipathy to social distancing.
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Statues of men who had made their mark from the Revolutionary times to the Civil War and even the Twentieth century used to gaze out from their solid pedestals, unperturbed by the pestilence and turmoil suffered by us mortals. No more. The Black Lives Matter demonstrations have again put on the table of public consciousness the thorny question: “Who deserves the public immortality of a statue?” Tempered voices advice we keep the statues of men, who, despite committing the crimes of their day, fought for something good, like building a country even if that meant a country for whites only; but do away with the statues of Confederate men who fought to keep other humans enslaved. Not so, we are told by those who come from those enslaved men and women. No good these founding men did for this country can erase their original sin. The cold reality is that history and the symbols that remind us of it are written and chosen by the victors. But the day comes when the victors are challenged by their conscience from within and by the aggrieved from outside. This is the moment we are in right now. Not only Black Americans but White Americans as well feel the moment of catharsis has come or is very near. The least White America can do is listen to its fellow Black as well as Native Americans and be sensitive to their sense as to how our common history must be remembered and memorialized.
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When hit by the vicissitudes and risks of something as insidious as this pandemic, it is time to ask “How can I live my life to survive the emotional and mental tear and wear?” That’s when my mind goes to what the Stoics and the Epicureans had to say about a life well lived. Both advised that after the initial shock we feel as we react to unpleasant change, fear and loss we should quickly restore our composure and take control of our lives by resorting to reason and contemplation. Stoics would further advise us to focus on the now and here. To enjoy what we have and not get trapped in the fear of what we might lose tomorrow. The Epicureans would add that safeguarding happiness is a virtue. And by that they did not mean happiness built on the unrestrained pursuit of pleasures. They rather meant happiness pursued with prudence; happiness that comes from learning to adapt as circumstances change and from discovering new opportunities to find pleasure. A Stoic endures hardship without surrendering his will to feel whole; while an Epicurean does not let hardship take away her faith in life and a better tomorrow.
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In my amateurish practice of Stoicism, I tried to convince myself that each day of my new limited life I went through was another battle won. That enduring this prolonged period of isolation was a meaningful experience that tested my will and ability to fight an enemy, and I should not be defeated. And in my amateurish way of practicing Epicureanism, I started to find pleasure in things I had long ignored. I started to take pleasure in the flower beds and the landscaping of homes I went by in our daily walks around the neighborhood. I started to pay attention to the architectural styles of homes. I would bring back memories of walks in European cities. Here is an Art Nouveau building and here is an Art Deco or Neo-Classical building. I saw none of these styles in my neighborhood. Just Center Colonials, and a few Dutch Colonials and what they call here Ranger Ranches and the other styles you see in an American suburb. For millions of people, a neighborhood had become the world.
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Funny how we rediscover our social selves under trying conditions. In our walks, we nodded and said Hi to people we didn’t know and they nodded back. We saw people sitting in lawn-chairs in front of their houses waving and showing gladness when they would see us again. We saw people visiting friends sitting in prudent distance from each other in front yards like in times past. The pandemic had pushed us apart and yet we were pulled closer by a new found need to bond, even so lightly, with others. I hope people will still wave at us and say “Hi” after the pandemic is gone. What an irony, if this never happens again and we look back to the pandemic days with nostalgia for the “His” and the looks from strangers, all full of understanding for the common condition we had to share those days of the lockdowns.
So let’s choose the joys of the 4th of July celebrations with prudence so that we enjoy with exuberance the Labor Day feasts come September.
Let's Reason 