We are mostly water and dust. We are synapses bouncing around in pink/grey tissue between our ears mounted atop a structure housing our food processing equipment – all mounted on feet-that-flee.
And everyone’s circumstances are unique.
How we deal with those circumstances, also unique, brings us together in commonplace ways to recognize we rarely experience a difficulty that others have not happened to them.
Empathy and stories are everywhere, and most people find comfort in that.
Yet many don’t, or it appears that way to this observer as pro/con on masks, vaccines, mandates, truckers, store shelves etc., make us all cringe at the intolerance of otherwise peaceable folk.
The darkest quiet night is often my most productive, and the sunniest, most glorious of days is sometimes one for sleeping through. We are resilient critters; we don’t let a little pain puddle get in the way of whatever drives us …
Life takes you by surprise, grabs you by the throat, slaps you in the face, or kisses you – there is no joy otherwise, and if there is no joy – and life can leave you feeling both full and empty at the same time. But not for long. The weather can change swiftly – and the good goes to evil, and horrible comes back to great but not as swiftly as we would like.
As for people, they don’t change much.
I’m convinced a pandemic doesn’t build character; it reveals it.
This pandemic, Y2K, the Cuban Missile Crisis, stock market black Fridays and black swans have taught us is, notwithstanding mind-boggling technology and 200,000 years of experience, we humans aren’t very united about anything are genuinely ill-prepared for trouble. We used to take our safety, economy, and our leaders for granted.