I remember when I was young, one day, my mother made dinner out of two potatoes. My father was away - we don’t know exactly where - and she was left to take care of two children on her own. I don’t remember much about the days or moments, but I do remember it involved two potatoes. We ate that evening because my mother always knew how to make do.
For anyone who has grown up in impoverished circumstances, or as new immigrants to a foreign land, survivors of natural and man-made disasters, or war-stricken environments, you’ll recognize the feeling of constantly being in the hurricane, buffeted from here to there as you tried to live with a sense of normalcy. For better or worse, you’ve learned to live in a world that is not always on your side.
We’re facing this today. A global pandemic of unprecedented (in our lifetimes) proportions has all but brought society to its knees. The directive is stay inside. Avoid contact. Only get what you need. Help others while you can. We are not used to having our freedoms limited. In a sense, the march of time has stopped and maybe even reversed.
I can see the discomfort of some in this situation. The sense of utter panic and the feeling that the excess we live with is, in fact, not enough. How will we manage? Do I need one package of turkey bacon or should I grab 17 just in case?
There is a creeping realization that, perhaps, we’ve gone too far. We’re using too much, we’re doing too much and we’re burning up. The forced rest, the deliberate conversation, the inability to escape from the things that are bothering us have now been foisted upon us. So many people are taking pause. Instead of simply staying inside, so many of us are being forced to go inside. To actually take some stock.
The beauty of it is, our survival also depends on the goodness in others. For every person trying to mark up prices on necessities, there are scores more knocking door-to-door and making sure elders have enough to eat. So many of my friends and family are working in areas that put them in direct contact with the general public. People are the essential service.
Survival is just that. It makes your question the necessity and the utility of so many things we take for granted. It knocks on your door to take away things you think you needed, but that turn out to be mere luxuries.
You need less. You can do better. You should do with less.
Some of us continue to live like we are in the eye of the storm. The survival instinct that I inherited from my childhood never left me. It’s a deep and ingrained part of me. It doesn’t serve me well many a time (does everything have to seem like it’s on fire every day?) But it has given me a confident sense of calm in my world, especially when we face a global pandemic, head on. I know how to read and clean and write and walk my days away. I, too, can conjure up dinner from two potatoes.
This week is the first week in a long time that I heard birds chirping in the morning. I’m sure they do everyday, but I don’t hear them. I’m too busy stuffing a Tupperware into my bag, while putting on my shoes and yelling at my husband about the traffic report on the freeway. This week is not that. My hair isn’t on fire. Survival instincts are never far and the eye of the storm is a surprisingly quiet place to be.
We’ll be fine. We’ve done so much more with so little.