Two weeks ago, I was working on a response to the controversy surrounding Jeanine Cummins’ novel, American Dirt. Joe Biden had just won the South Carolina Democratic primary, there was still hope for the stock market, and Pete Buttigieg’s announcement that he was pulling out of the primary race hardly made a ripple in the news cycle. Then the earth’s axis tilted, and we, every human on the planet, lost our balance. Reviewing my notes on American Dirt, I feel a sense of nostalgia for a simpler time. Were we that naive, or simply woefully unprepared? Does it matter now? Not at all. COVID-19 is changing the global landscape at an unprecedented rate.
The Walmart in Douglas, Arizona was out of toilet paper, bleach, and bottled water when I stopped in to pick up a few things. This new reality shut down my frontal cortex, the thinking part of my brain, igniting the primitive amygdala and a compulsion to hoard. There were no guarantees where the next meal was coming from when Homo sapiens first roamed the planet 200,000 years ago. Sticks and stones were hunting weapons of choice. Man-made fire was a novel idea and agriculture was not yet on the radar. We were as much prey as predator. Those with a superior amygdala went on to propagate. My ancestors had survived natural selection. Every bit of their DNA resided in my cells as I careened up and down aisles snatching things off shelves with abandon. How many cans of Bush’s Baked Beans did my husband and I need in the face of a pandemic? Apparently six, or at least that seemed adequate at the time.
Every angle of COVID-19 is being explored and tested. From healthcare, to politics, to education, to social reform, we are all talking about it. But more importantly, we are waiting. And for what? We don’t know. As a species, we don’t respond well to the unknown. Or at least not since we relied on our primitive brains. What we cannot control, we fix. We are good at cleaning up messes and restoring order. Hurricanes, tsunamis, and typhoons may devastate coastal towns, but once the water recedes, we get to work. In the aftermath of tornadoes, fires, and earthquakes we pick up the pieces and rebuild our communities.
COVID-19 has erased the question of why me? and has replaced it with, Why Us? Why all of us? What good can come of this? we ask ourselves. Maybe this is the starting point. A new beginning. We are unwitting participants in the greatest social experiment of humankind. Under the proverbial microscope, we will be examined and judged years to come in history books, sociological studies, and houses of worship by our response to this threat. This is a big responsibility to place on a select few, never mind the entire world population. Do we give in to fear and allow our primitive brains to influence our decisions, or do we acknowledge our vulnerability making room for compassion and empathy?
How are we to pray in the face of such danger? Today at church I flinched when someone sneezed. What we are experiencing is a parable from the Old Testament: The king ignores his people to gain riches until God smites him. Whether you read this as a political statement, or see yourself as the king, doesn’t much matter anymore. In the end, God protects his flock. That is the message I must adhere to when someone sniffles.
While at the store I overheard two gentlemen talking. One was saying that closing schools is ridiculous. The other agreed and said the virus isn’t a problem here in the United States. Money, power, prestige, and/or celebrity cannot buy a get out of jail free card; either can rhetoric, hearsay, or wishful thinking. We are all at risk.
Global and local civility alike are at stake. There is finger pointing, blaming, and conspiring. Someone must be at fault. Scientists, doctors, scholars, and healthcare workers are scrambling to provide answers to how this happened while simultaneously tending to the sick, developing test kits, and God willing, finding a vaccine.
What I would like to see is an independent global coalition of world-renowned scientists, doctors, researchers, economists, and sociologists granted permission to travel this precious planet, regardless of borders, to collect objective data on threats to earth and humankind. From that data, the coalition, rather than nations, drafts policies to preserve and protect. I believe that is a conversation worth having. In the end, perhaps this canary in the mine is the thing that unites us all.
A friend from Miami is staying with us right now. Last night at dinner, he brought up the quiet he experienced after 9/11 after all planes had been grounded. My husband and I are blessed to live in a place where we are woken each morning by the cacophony of birds. We have everything we need right here at the ranch, including quiet, to weather most any storm. As long as I don’t listen to the news, I can get on with my day. For now, we are hunkered down as they say. The peach and plum trees are in full bloom while the bees are frantically gathering pollen unaware of what is going on beyond the orchard.