The divides of togetherness

The media is saturated with reminders that 'we are all in this together', but I have been thinking a lot about divides. It seems to me that the fractures are becoming cracks, the cracks becoming canyons. People who were already living in vulnerable or precarious conditions are even more so now--I think about refugees and asylum seekers, people who are homeless, people living with chronic health conditions. People who have been living with these fears and uncertainties for their whole lives.

My eldest boy is in year 12 so I'm thinking a lot about what happens to children's education. For my boy, it will all be fine because he has all the resources he needs across all of the many domains. The financial ones are obvious, but there's so much more, the personality traits, the subject interests ... he really has so much in his corner. I think about the young adults who don't have one or more of those things. Their interests and skills are in the practical areas or the physical ones. They don't know what it is they're interested in or what they were going to do. If they're not at school they're not seeing that one teacher who gets them, the one they had in year nine who still goes out of her way to say hello every now and then, to just check in. The ones who hate being at home, who don't sit still, whose brains won't stop chattering. I don't know whether it's environmental or inherited, but like my mum I've always had a soft spot for vulnerable children and young adults and I actually have been losing sleep over this, wondering what happens in the coming months and years to young people. I wish I had something to do that would help.

Which leads me to another divide: people who have something to do and people who don't. The mister, for example, has been working absolutely flat out for the past month while my work has slowed almost to a stop. The people who are managing this crisis, the people who are doing the work that needs to be done, the health workers ... they are all busy, engaged, a true sense of purpose. I've really struggled with this, because I've always seen myself as someone who does stuff, who helps, who is available. And now, really, the best thing I can do is stay out of the way. That's ego getting in the way, needing to be visible, visibly contributing. Staying still, being quiet, that's a form of activism in these times.

The End. Or is it?

_____

Kind of related to this, but not exactly:
One of the reasons I'm staying away from facebook is the frenetic doing and busyness that erupted in the days after the full extent of what we are facing became obvious. This was especially in the arts where are work got cancelled and people were naturally looking for ways to keep their work on track. But then there was the other busyness too, the signing up to courses and the daily challenges. Like in the bushfires, the road to recovery was paved with consumption.

Like many, I instantly recognised myself in this poem by Adrie Kusserow that's been doing the rounds on facebook (yes, I know, but no one can keep away altogether):

MARY OLIVER for CORONA TIMES
(Thoughts after the poem WILD GEESE)

You do not have to become totally zen,
You do not have to use this isolation to make your marriage better,
your body slimmer, your children more creative.
You do not have to “maximize its benefits”
By using this time to work even more,
write the bestselling Corona Diaries,
Or preach the gospel of ZOOM.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body unlearn
everything capitalism has taught you,
(That you are nothing if not productive,
That consumption equals happiness,
That the most important unit is the single self.
That you are at your best when you resemble an efficient machine).

Tell me about your fictions, the ones you’ve been sold,
the ones you sheepishly sell others,
and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world as we know it is crumbling.
Meanwhile the virus is moving over the hills,
suburbs, cities, farms and trailer parks.
Meanwhile The News barks at you, harsh and addicting,
Until the push of the remote leaves a dead quiet behind,
a loneliness that hums as the heart anchors.
Meanwhile a new paradigm is composing itself in our minds,
Could birth at any moment if we clear some space
From the same tired hegemonies.
Remember, you are allowed to be still as the white birch,
Stunned by what you see,
Uselessly shedding your coils of paper skins
Because it gives you something to do.
Meanwhile, on top of everything else you are facing,
Do not let capitalism coopt this moment,
laying its whistles and train tracks across your weary heart.
Even if your life looks nothing like the Sabbath,
Your stress boa-constricting your chest.
Know that your ancy kids, your terror, your shifting moods,
Your need for a drink have every right to be here,
And are no less sacred than a yoga class.
Whoever you are, no matter how broken,
the world still has a place for you, calls to you over and over
announcing your place as legit, as forgiven,
even if you fail and fail and fail again.
remind yourself over and over,
all the swells and storms that run through your long tired body
all have their place here, now in this world.
It is your birthright to be held
deeply, warmly in the family of things,
not one cell left in the cold.