Shakesperience

There is a rumour among reliable social media sources like Twitter, that Shakespeare wrote King Lear while quarantined during The Great Plague of London. Without toilet paper.   But what I want to know is, did King Lear write back? Well, I for one, do not need that kind of pressure. I mean, I finally finished vacuuming all my carpet stairs.  But once I watched a whole season of “The Office” in under 10 hours (I paused once to make more popcorn). So pray telleth, which is more impressive?

Take that, Will Shakespeare.

Whilst in this ‘pandemic pause’, which I admit is a tad better than being under house arrest for dueling, we may have felt pressure to be productive: cataloging historic light fixtures, master acrylic paint pouring, writing King Lear 2, or putting socks in pairs.

Our culture has woven a deep seam into our brain telling us we are only valuable when we are on the hamster wheel of producing. We proudly wear this busyness badge of merit and parade it to anyone who will listen – or read on Facebook.

Almost without notice, we are losing ourselves, losing our ability to know who we are and what is important to us.

Succumbing to, or pervasive on, social media, we should be aware that there is a stark difference between connecting, which entails a two-way exchange, and showing off. (I also warn you against succumbing to culinary-inspired Instagram feeds for fear of extending your health risk beyond Covid-19.)Deciding not to perform for other people requires vulnerability, to be honest about who we are, realizing that people around us won’t ever fully get us but that others – separated across time and space – just might. We now have the opportunity to reflect on our habits and past behaviors.

It is becoming clearer and clearer, that if there ever was a time to sit still, it is now.  Pared down, there really are only a few things the body needs on any given day — hygiene, nutrients, a little light exercise, and Netflix.  Now may be a good time to make a “Not To Do” list, to make inactivity your new hobby. But only after you clean out the limp radishes, moldy carrot sticks and the bag of forgotten mushrooms from the bottom of the crisper drawer.Now may be the time when we consider if we really need so much air travel, Caribbean vacations, or more clothes.Now may be the time to remove the unneeded and non-essential cargo from our lives – except ice cream.

There are definite and inherent gifts in this enforced confinement to be acknowledged.

Freedom

When we own less, we have more freedom in our spaces and thus more freedom in our life. When we declutter our homes from unnecessary or too many possessions, we can go from constricting and stressful, to calmer and more peaceful.

We need an essential consciousness about what we want, versus what we need. A haircut, presumably. 
 

Financial stability

As we own fewer possessions, it costs less to maintain our things. Even more importantly, we may begin to buy less going forward. 

Flexibility The world and our lives are going to change. That we know for sure. If we slough off the extraneous now, we will become more flexible for the future—whether we need to move, find a new job, or make changes in the way we live.

Benefiting others It is also becoming very clear which are essential services, and which are non-essential services. And we need to fundamentally rethink our delivery models. Embracing minimalism in a crisis helps us provide or redirect goods to those who really need it.

Security Possessions, except a roof over our head, never provides the security we desire. That’s why people start hoarding more and more and more. They believe the added items will help them feel safe, but they seldom do. We need to, instead, turn to friends and family and faith, or our goldfish who’s keeping us company, and realize the true things: our talents, our abilities, our work ethic. When we rely on our compass—who we are and the direction we desire, we will find more lasting security.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.                    Just keep going. No feeling is final.   –Rainer Maria Rilke

But one of the things we must avoid at all costs, is to lapse into thinking that everything was fine before this disaster struck, and that all we need is prudent patience for everything to return “back to normal”. Flannel pajamas can do that to you.

Haruki Murakami writes in Kafka on the Shore, “When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what the storm is all about.” Clinging to the past is like holding ice cubes in your hand: once they melt, they’re gone. We don’t have a ‘normal’ anymore. We will be forced to formulate a new one.  But what is more important is that we need to understand that life before the pandemic was already a catastrophe of desperation and exclusion, illuminating economic inequality, racism, patriarchy. My hope is that the new era will bring a calibration between human and planet and animals, to realize our absolute inseparable connectedness with all of life. I hope it’s obvious now that our future depends on it. Are we going to be able to engage the laws of  “whole-ism” and actually live it? We are about to find out whether humans descend, or transcend.

So take a break, sit quietly, stare out the window. 

Each of us can find a half hour a day to waste, away from the wired world.

Know that by doing nothing, we may actually be at our most productive and creative self. It might feel weird and uncomfortable at first, but boredom can lead to brilliance. Inactivity is an interest that can be pursued, at any age, at any time. 
 

“Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day.”

—Macbeth in Macbeth