Zoomed Out!
Someone shut down the Recipe Exchange! Experts recently announced that the “Quarantine Recipe Exchange” has gone viral and that the recent spread of “old fashioned” recipe exchange emails has quickly spiraled out of control into a worldwide pandemic. What started as a warm and fuzzy, “let’s share recipes” has turned into a stressful, anger inducing insanity.
I was supposed to receive 36 recipes – instead, I now seem to be part of an endless loop that for each recipe I get, I receive about 12 new requests to join the “Quarantine Recipe Exchange”. HELP! I’ve stopped telling senders that I can’t participate anymore – which I’m sure is what most of the other participants have done and explains why I only received 6 recipes. Thanks to you lovely people who sent them – now, let’s isolate this Recipe Exchange and ERADICATE IT! However, I will, as a gesture of goodwill, share one (of the six) “quick ‘n easy”, “what’s in your cabinet” recipes that you, like me, may find particularly useful – especially now that it’s the weekend (are we distinguishing that from the regular weekdays anymore?
Seriously, I am wondering whether I have Alzheimer’s or a severe concussion as my various communication threads have me in a fog of confusion and numbness. Life now seems to be on repeat. My InBox and Text Messages are flooded with identical messages – different friends forward the same COVID jokes which I manage to send and re-send to the same people. Google Calendars keep reminding me of Zoom meetings, Zoom Virtual Cocktail Hours, Zoom this, Zoom That – and to be honest, I am Zoomed Out – which of course is a perfect description of how the world seems and feels right now – Zoomed Out. We are supposed to be staying apart from each other, and many say “thank goodness we have all of this technology to keep us connected,” but the truth is, technology has hit a wall and just isn’t cutting it for me anymore.
I’m tired of Zooming. I’m tired of talking on the phone. I’m tired of staring at the negative “the world as we know it is ending” headlines that keep glaring at me from the screens. I’m tired of binge watching Netflix. I’m tired of social media. I’m tired of analyzing all of the COVID computer model projections that keep getting “adjusted” so that the “experts” are always right. And I’m tired of feeling guilty as I struggle to keep up with responding in a timely way to all of the texts and emails that continue to pour into my phone and computer. Don’t get me wrong – I am as attached and addicted as the next person – and since this technology is the current lifeline to our family, friends and work colleagues, I’m not just going to go off the grid. I want to stay in touch with loved ones, stay informed about the world and try to use all of this digital content to learn new skills and ideas. But as an extrovert (and I may be wrong, but I think even introverts at some point feel the same way) I long for the actual physical contact and energy of groups of people.
More and more, I find I am socially distancing myself from my screens. I stare at faces on my Zoom calls and feel an apathy and disconnect from individuals that I really do love, adore and respect. There is a barrier that digital connectivity comes up against that can never be passed through. Technology can never replace being there in person and the actual physical touch of another living thing.
With all of these feelings swirling in my head, I took my three dogs for a long walk along the trails of our farm. As the dogs and I settled into a rhythm, my restless mind quieted, and I began to more closely observe my natural surroundings. Within minutes I found myself staring with wonder, appreciation and clarity at the woods, at the fields of grasses and at the groupings of early Spring daffodils dancing in the wind. As I gazed upon these remarkable organisms, I was reminded that so much of the earth thrives on living in groups – growing, touching and communicating while in physical contact together. The April sun was warming my back and we walked on. A swarm of birds dipped and climbed across the pond. A covey of Morning Doves took flight together as my yellow labs tramped along. The prairie grasses swayed in unison – individual blades intertwined with each other. The pine trees creaked and moaned in the wind. I then sat down, right in the middle of the path – next to the edge of a forest of pines and the edge of the prairie field. The dogs were confused at my actions and came to nuzzle me, eventually flopping down in a pile right up against my leg – also wanting the comfort of physical touch and closeness. Together we listened and watched carefully. As nature accepted our intrusion into its sacred realm, I could start to hear the whispers of conversation, and see the loving, physical touch of families and friends. This was not the first time I had listened closely to the sounds of nature, I often do this. But now, during this anxious and uncertain period of social isolation, these sounds and these movements took on new significance. Pine needles of one tree gently reached out to those of another nearby – brushing against each other with a comforting familiarity. The weathered grasses danced rhythmically with each other and bent down in the wind to greet and embrace the new green shoots that were growing up beneath them. Three playful daffodils bobbed their bright yellow heads at each other, touching petal to petal – like champagne flutes clinking in a toast to Spring and the immense promise it brings. I gazed upon these miracles and thought to myself: a forest of trees, a field of grasses, a flock of birds, a pack of dogs, a herd of elephants, a school of fish, a pride of lions, a troop of baboons…a tribe of people. Much of nature thrives when it is born, raised and strengthened in large groups. The energy that moves through us from the physical presence and touch of each other is our collective soul.
I am missing my tribes. I miss my extended family tribe – who on this particular weekend would usually be gathering - multiple generations of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings - to share a prayerful Easter service, a joyful egg hunt and to hold hands around a table of delicious food while saying a blessing of deepfelt thanks. I miss my various friend tribes – who often gather at energetic restaurant tables or bars, on the dance floor of a party, a vacation get away or take time for a morning workout or tennis drill followed by a quick coffee together. I miss my church tribe of neighbors and community members – and that special moment of the service when we pass the peace and embrace or shake the hands of friends and strangers alike. I miss my work tribes and the stimulating discussions we share as we create solutions and cultivate new ideas. Human groups of all kinds breath energy and meaning into the institutions, stadiums, temples, city squares, churches, mosques, parks, office buildings, schools and universities that we build. Without the presence of humans physically together – either as groups or as individuals - these places lose their vibrancy and their spirit. They become soulless.
A family member forwarded a video (the link is below) compiled by Michael Cohen that shows pictures of some of the world’s most famous international cities and landmarks. The pictures were taken by webcams after the lockdowns were put in place – and it is astonishing to see how lifeless these places become without all of us humans there – moving in a rhythm, brushing against each other, our conversations creating a palpable hum. I often say that I am skeptical of groups or group think, that I value individuals – and that still holds true. But just as I admire the unique bark and branches and leaves of an individual tree – I also feel invigorated by the collective energy of the forest. And right now I am craving the face to face energy and soulfulness of my expanded tribes of my own personal world and the whole world at large. No webcam on Times Square, or virtual safari on the Serengeti, or streamed music concert or online college class will ever capture the electrifying buzz, the hair-raising excitement, the heart pounding emotion or the rigor of a dynamic discussion the way being there in person can. The digital barrier zooms us out.
Technology has hit a wall that actual physical contact with other humans and nature never will. I cannot wait for the day that we can congregate, hug, cheer, dance and live fully. Together.
In the meantime, put your screens down, go outside and zoom back into life. Observe the physical beauty and power of nature face to face. And listen closely to the trees. They have much to tell us.
Happy Easter. Happy Passover. Happy Spring.
Guard The Sacred. Think Deeply. Seek Beauty. Celebrate The Possibility. Get Real.
- EWE BEE U
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