A Reset. I like that word. It sounds like a fresh start, a clean slate, a do-over. With Spring upon us, and vaccines working their magic, a new beginning feels close. If we can just hold on.
I’m so ready for a reset. To see this last year and the pandemic fully in the rearview mirror. I want to take stock of where I’m at now, make a plan, and start anew.
I hope I’m coming out of this a different person though. God help us if we just carry on without regard for the life-altering changes that have happened right before our eyes. All the pain and suffering experienced by fellow citizens, the life and death commitments made by front-line workers, and concurrently, the lack of respect demonstrated by others – actions we all own and must acknowledge, and then work to do better. I know one thing for sure, I am more hopeful than I’ve been in a long time, because I have to be. I have to believe that we’ve grown smarter and stronger than before. I also believe that I’ll not be as trusting as I’ve been before. That’s a sad thing to say, but maybe I’ve been behind the life curve on that one anyway.
A Ritual. As a girl raised Catholic, I can’t help but love a good ritual. Give me a celebratory or solemn gathering of like-minded people, food, drink, song and a sprinkle of incense for good measure and I’m ready. So, perhaps a Ritual to anchor a Reset is in order.
I read something recently in the newspaper that inspired me about this. The author suggested we each consider applying the rituals of Passover to our experiences of the pandemic. He explained that on Passover, Jews tell and retell the stories of their history. They eat and sing and commit to memory all that they’ve endured and learned throughout their past. The point of the article was that we use these rituals somehow in order to not forget what this pandemic did to us. To not ever forget what we witnessed – collectively and individually. To not ever forget the pain and the beauty of so many moments in this crushing year. And especially, to not ever forget the lessons learned, about ourselves, our families, friends, neighbors, community. Our country, our beliefs, our values.
Throughout my childhood, I remember my parents telling stories of everything they went through during the Depression and World War II. The things they went without, and how they “made due.” Eating potatoes and onions for days because that’s all they could afford. Or how they turned the house upside down looking for one more penny in order to mail an important letter using a 3 cent stamp. They always capped off a story with something like “It was hard, but we were all in it together. Everyone was in the same boat.”
While those were not my stories or experiences, they’ve never left me. I was inspired by their grit, their hard work, their implacable belief in the shared promise of tomorrow. Their stories informed my own values. They’re why I never take for granted all that I have and the privileges I enjoy today. Of working hard and enjoying the simple things. And always acting for the greater good and not only on behalf of myself or my own needs. I think their greatest gift or lesson imparted to me through their stories was empathy. The ability, and yes, the obligation, of putting yourself in someone else’s shoes.
Their stories shaped me. The good ones and the sad ones. Just like our stories will shape future generations.
I hope we never forget this past year. I hope we each do our part to tell our stories so that we continue to learn and do better. And, as importantly, so that as the author wrote “ . . . to both mark and give meaning to history.” Yep. Our history.
A reset – yeah, that sounds good. But first, a ritual. However you choose to honor your experience, whether a small gathering or a journal entry, let us pause, collect our stories, hold them close and never forget. Then we can move forward by sharing the past again and again and again. And if you want to sprinkle in a little incense, all the better. (wink)
Till next time, I wish you good health and great stories.
Judy