An entire new vocabulary has sprouted ‘round the Rona. Flattening the curve, formerly a phrase reserved for epidemiologists and economists, now ring out of the mouths of 4 –year olds and octogenarians alike. I treasure the ingenuity and humour. It acts antidotally to the general uncertainty and mayhem caused by COVID-19.
I’ll share some favourites: have you experienced the 20 shades of different panic when Zoom malfunctions? You are riding the coronacoaster. How about your coping strategies with food: Quarantinis, furlough merlot and goutbreak (something to do with cheese, wine, Easter chocolate that cause ankle swelling). These terms also pinpoint the cause of the COVID-10 (weight gain as a result of the comfort eating).
We now also live, temporarily, all day, every day with the disrupted, home-schooled Children of the Quarn. Yes, many of us have Coronials at home, who have benefitted from our expertise in home-schooling on the fly. These children, as a rule, are hollow and require constant feeding and watering. Kitchens are high traffic areas. You could get hurt if you don’t keep your eyes open. The only remaining safe place is, of course, the area immediately around the sink….
While many of us have found our stride, the elephant in the Zoom remains. The demands on our productivity continue unabated. The need to feel and act normal and to allow others to feel and act normal, trigger the moving mountains in the most exemplary of ways. Compassion is an essential ingredient in our intrepidness. We are not sitting at a think tank on top of a mountain thinking big thoughts and heading down with full bellies and hearts with tablets of wisdom. Instead, we are invited to declutter education (today’s editorial in the SMH), adapt clinical practice, prioritise research, teach on-line in new ways, continuously adjust as events unfold, wash our hands, parent the living daylights out of unsettled children, and preserve all personal relationships as if we are not, in fact, in the middle of a pandemic.
These are heroic, inspired, busy days and good golly Miss Molly, we’re getting the hang of it. We’re riding the coronacoaster, while not be defined by it. We are recognising that in order to be well, we need to inhabit our flooded, overwhelmed moments with compassion. We are bestowed the incredible gift of being present when morsels of sheer ingenuity, and grit work through us and with us to deliver an exceptional contribution.
Respectfully, I am not aiming for world-class anything these days, it makes me nervous. A good day is where everyone and everything worked when required, something was learned, I have eggs, pasta and toilet paper in the house and no-one cried. Maybe some yoga in there somewhere. Let’s worry about exceptional later. I am aiming for more moments of feeling good enough and knowing that I am doing my best. I celebrate days with fewer moments of unhelpful inner criticism and panicked achievement. I cling to compassion through all of it. That’s what the wise ones among us have been saying for years. That is exceptional living. That’s what matters now.
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