Beacons in the Dark

Four years ago we were just starting to realize the gravity of COVID's collective trauma in our recent global memory. We lost more friends and relatives than any living generation except the WWII survivors. We learned how to manage a month long order to shelter in place while navigating caring for ourselves and our families, in sickness and doing everything possible to maintain our health. In many ways, we are still there. Still struggling to recover from recurring bouts of COVID and related complications that no one talks about including a full year of lost wages, while the world still turns, but physically slower. There are hopes and dreams to still pursue, and stepping stones of encouragement and despair to navigate along the way. 

But the silver lining is the light this experince has shone on our perspectives of what really matters, giving us the imperative to pursue those things that are of greatest importance to our own sense of purpose and responsibility. 

I put down my camera in 1992 during Hurricane Andrew and never picked it up again. But after the lockdown, as I slowly began to regain the strength to sit up after three months of coughing, wheezing and wondering if I would ever recover, I began to really appreciate the little things that propelled me to keep going. The aloe plants on my balcony. The birds, bees and butterflies that would buzz by for a visit. The UPS driver knocking on my door to deliver groceries from walmart. It was a whole different world we had to learn to live in, and more than any time in the recent past, we realized that everything could change in an instant. 

There is a lot of grieving that we were doing, and still are. Grieving the normalcy of life that we once knew, the in-person school years that can never be reclaimed. The illusion of certainty we may have once held for our jobs, agencies, organizations and governance structures. And most of all the sense of fairness, if we had it at all, seems likely that we may never get back. 

And still, in the dark, our focus becomes even sharper, honing in on whatever source of light exists, however bright or undefined. And so I opened my phone camera app, and began documenting those things that were giving me light, energy, hope. However small or large, the motivation is what matters. Be it the beach or the seeds, flowers or trees, the spark of inspiration, endurance or action, it was the sights and sounds of the continuation of the plants, animals and natural forces that I began tracking. First, cycles of sunrise and sunset from my fixed point, fixing three meals per day for my family. Then cycles of the moon waxing and waning as the months spun by. Finally, watching the seasonal cycles ebb and flow as we began to adapt to new norms, finding solace and rhythm in new patterns, new ways of doing things, new types of relationships with family, friends, audiences and colleagues. 

Who knew a decade dabbling in blogging would become a centerpiece in survival? 

But at last, finally we can begin to look forward. Surely, hopefully, the worst is behind us. We know now what to expect. And we remind ourselves that our work, our focus, our life matters, so we pursue our greatest interests with vigor, love and compassion for those around us and also for our deep love of ourselves. Because the only way to be the best is to bring on the self love and cultivate caring for community. 

Happy Lighthouse Day! 

See you in Zurich, Aug. 21-25!