photo by Lara Herscovitch at Edgerton Park
I have treasured the CLP community for many years. And I have wanted to contribute here for some time now. But my days are filled to capacity — coming and going, running and resting and running again, figuring, calculating, adjusting, striving, trying, multitasking, hoping, breaking…
In all of this doing, I left little space for the stillness that deep thought and true revelation require. I am moving too fast and doing too much, and I am naming the wrestling. I am naming the fact that the other day, I had to be reminded by a colleague to drink my first glass of water of the work day, at 2pm.
I wonder how many of us — me included — have been unwittingly aligned with this too-common practice of going faster and faster, to either “make up for” perceived lost time or to outrun the pace of the trauma we’re presently in.
Each time I sat down to write, I imagined a certain type of intellectual, opinion-piece, visionary fruit of my labor. But in my reflections, only a very particular “what if” appeared on the page. I was recaptured by thoughts I had in the midst of collective time of isolation.
During that time of confusion and fear, a hope swelled in me that we would learn something invaluable, unforgettable, transformational, and universal. I began to hope that we would not emerge without that learning; that we would become better because of what we had endured in our isolation and stillness. I hoped we would not squander this opportunity for revelation.
I still hope we won’t; but cultural emergence is missing something. I am missing something.
And I wonder what we missed, what we miss — by focusing on fear and resisting the stillness that was forced upon most of us. Now that we have more choice, I feel myself and see those around me at the pace of ‘before.’ A pace that wasn’t healthy then, and isn’t healthy now.
I miss what we haven’t gotten from the period of stillness, and I wonder if a fundamental ingredient for restoration is our collective stillness. How magical, potentially scientific, and absolutely divine!
I remember reading reports that during our shelter in place, wildlife prospered in many settings… oceans were teeming with fish and dolphins… cameras captured forest animals interacting in spaces and hours of the day not typically observed… polluted skies were clear.
In this remembering and reflecting, a poem of sorts emerged:
What If We Were Still
What if we were still afraid to leave our homes?
What if we were still gathering — holidays, birthdays, graduations, celebrations — on flat screens?
What if we were still following arrows on worn-out tiles of grocery stores to avoid passing by one another?
What if we were still holding life so dearly that we would not touch each other just to preserve it, not to break it?
What if we were still pressing hands against windowpanes, held long enough to leave an impression, but… not penetrate loneliness and longing?
What if we were still taping paper hearts on our front doors as a sign of love and solidarity?
What if we were still welcoming new life virtually, sharing new bundles of joy and life on small screens?
What if we were still unable to tickle the toes and pinch the thighs of loved ones’ brand-new babies… unable to smell their warm baby breath?
What if we were still were watching morgues overflow, filling with the remains of the people who once filled our lives?
What if I were still exploring new wooded trails in the middle of the day in the middle of the week in the middle of my sadness? What would I have found?
What if I discarded my running TO DO list? What if my regarded my calendar as unimportant as the last email I read? What if I drank my first glass of water before 2pm?
What if I prioritized fresh air and water?
What if I were still planning a garden with my daughter… learning how to make eggplants grow in our yard?
What if I shielded that time of quiet, squirreled away enough so that each day I could pull out the stillness and rest in the truth of one moment at a time.
What if we were still searching for words to express the grief, the weight, and the torture of our fears?
What if we were still waiting?
What if we were still hoping?
What if we were still?
What if, in being still, we received revelation?
What if we learned to understand love over fear, peace over war, wonder and curiosity over arrogance and hate?
What if we reveled in the life flowing through each other’s veins?
What if we believed again in the fragility of our lives and the uncertainty of tomorrow?
What if we were still.
To reach Gigi directly: genevive.walker.22@gmail.com
I love this….all of it. Thank you ~ Niyonu
Beautiful Gigi.