For most of us, the coronavirus has turned our lives upside down. Our new normal, might be working from home, or not working at all. Home schooling kids, giving up barista coffee, waking up in a sweat over our small business, heart breaking sights of long queues of people at social security offices, deep fears and worries about elderly relatives, now isolated and more alone and vulnerable than ever. Not to mention the stress that comes from the unknown and the uncertainty of when this will end and what lies on the other side of it.
So much if this is out of our control. It’s causing many of us to reassess what’s really important and what things we may have taken for granted. The trip deferred to visit family because of work pressures, the dreaded morning routines getting kids up and ready for school, the ease in cancelling an appointment with the hairdresser because we just weren’t up to it today – all of these things now have a new context. The things that were always there, that we moved through so effortlessly and without thought are suddenly gone. Gone without warning, gone without notice. Big things are changing.
But things are always changing. I like to think of this as the same way in which we pass through the seasons. I’m not talking about the literal time passing seasons of the physical world, but more of the seasons as they show up in our emotional world. The long hot summers of contentment and happiness. The coolness of Autumn as we plant the seeds of change. The progression of decay to death as we hibernate through winter. The sense of light and the smell of newness as we witness new beginnings in springtime.
It’s fair to say that we are entering the season of winter – regardless which side of the hemisphere we find ourselves in. And rather than entering this alone, we are entering it together. If there is one thing to say about this virus is that it’s the great leveller. No amount of money, no number of possessions, no matter where you live or your station in life, there is no avoiding it. Collectively we have been forced into the cave, to slow down and to simplify. To decay and to die as we currently are. But winter will pass and springtime will come. And what you have planted will blossom under the warmth of the new sun. So what are you planting? What will you let go off? What will decay and die? What truths will come to life for you and what fruits will you bear as you regenerate, emerging from winter, leaning towards the newness of spring?