Coping

When all of this began... when I left the office with a laptop bag and instructions to work from home for at least 2 weeks... I figured I'd white knuckle my way through the uncertainty. Surely the whole thing would pass and we'd soon be back together, sharing our stories about those wild weeks at home. Like so many others, I did not recognize the severity of the novel coronavirus or how significantly life would change. As time went on, I was slow to adapt to the "new normal" and clung to my old ways. It took me nearly six months of sitting on a rock-hard wooden kitchen chair for 8 hours a day before I finally caved and bought a decent seat for my home office.  One thousand hours on a single piece of wood.  I just didn't want to admit to myself that things wouldn't be returning to "business as usual" (nor would my butt be returning to the ergonomic embrace of my employer's furniture).

The best money I spent in 2020, hands down, was buying this chair.

Intellectually, I get that 10 months into this thing it makes a lot more sense to adapt than to simply cope. Adapting suggests a positive action - surveying the current circumstances and adjusting one's approach to things. Say... learning how to throw a fun happy hour over Zoom, or finding ways to work from home full time without wanting to throw yourself out a window. Maybe even developing the self-control to complete challenging workout videos without bailing half-way through and heading for the snacks. Adaptation sounds like a really wise thing to do.  But honestly, most of the time I'm still just coping.

Unlike active adaptation, coping suggests a resignation... making due in spite of the status quo. Less embodying and more escaping. Reading until my eyes are sore and refuse to focus. Switching over to the endless scroll of videos on YouTube. Dreaming about the vacation we're going to take when international travel is "a thing" again. Seeking comfort in sweet treats despite my new year's resolution to eat less sugar. Ignoring the emails about my temple's weekly online services because "it's not the same".

It isn't the same. Hardly anything is the same. Things will never be the same. I can say that with certainty because even without the coronavirus... things will never be the same again. 

A new administration was sworn into office this week. My cousin just welcomed his first child into the world. The economy is being rocked by political and environmental reckonings. Lab-grown animal products are becoming available to consumers. Both international and local businesses are taking their commerce online. America's racism and nationalism are being once again pulled from the darkness and into the light. 

Some of these shifts have been accelerated or amplified by the virus, but all are examples of our ever-changing environment. We live in a world of evolution and iteration at a time when technological advances are exponential. From one year to the next, hardly anything is truly the same. The implications may be much more subtle than what we have experienced this past year, but that doesn't mean lasting and significant change isn't happening. Which has me thinking... I should probably get better at adapting. 

I'm not about to start an award-winning business that recycles all those disposable masks into blankets for orphaned kittens (someone please run with that) nor use my influx of spare time to write a novel or learn a new language (that ship has sailed). But since I'm reading so much I could join another online book club. That'd be one way to punctuate my weekend-long reading benders with actual human interaction. And instead of only lamenting the travel we can't do, I could seek out nearby but new-to-us hiking spots to explore on mild winter afternoons. I am committed to attending more live-streams and dharma chats from my temple. It's not the same, and that makes me sad. But, I'd rather adapt and nurture my spirituality than miss out on any more opportunities for growth and connection. Who knows? Maybe I'll feel zen enough to start curbing my sweet tooth.