The Lucky Ones

On September 19, 1985 my family was living in Mexico City. It was early- about 7:15. My brother and I were brushing our teeth, my father hadn't left for work yet, and my mother was getting dressed to bring us to school. I remember my mother shouting, "I think this is an earthquake." The cup holding my toothbrush rattled on the tile counter. My father yelled, "I think you're right." And suddenly, the movement got bigger. When she recounts the sensation we felt that morning, my mother describes it as an eerie, circular motion. My father gathered us together under the archway between our bedrooms and living room. As quickly as it started, the shaking stopped.

We wondered what to do next: my parents walked outside, and as far as they could tell, things looked alright: there was no damage in our neighborhood. They put me on the bus, my father went to work, and my mother drove my brother to his nursery school. Soon my father got in touch with my mother to tell her that all the windows in his building had broken, the damage seemed pretty bad in El Centro, and he was coming home. My mother searched the radio for more information, but all she could hear was static. She retrieved my brother, but when she called my school, she and the other parents were told to leave us in place until further notice. I remember practicing hiding under our desks in case there was an aftershock (which came at a magnitude 7.0 the next day). Soon, I was bussed home. We packed our bags, and fled the city.

We were the lucky ones. The magnitude 8.1 earthquake killed roughly 10,000 people and caused between three and four billion USD in damage. This memory of living though the 1985 earthquake came to mind this morning when I wrote the following sentence:

Like a great earthquake, the pandemic has destroyed so much...

I'm just beginning to realize how much the pandemic has shaken me to my core. On the surface, I am, once again, one of the lucky ones. Below the surface, there is a great deal at play. I'm not quite sure where to step as the world opens back up. The variants, like looming aftershocks, remind us to tread lightly. Still, we are hungry to return to normal, but what does normal look like in a world recovering from a pandemic?

There are six stages within every crisis: (1) warning; (2) risk assessment; (3) response; (4) management; (5) resolution and (6) recovery. I would say that in this pandemic, we are in the 4th stage: management as we try to vaccinate as many people as possible and maintain certain protocols to keep the virus under control. As we (hopefully) continue to move away from the more acute danger of Covid-19, we are left with the aftermath of its effects, and we enter the 5th stage: resolution. We have some serious relearning and rebuilding ahead of us. The final stage: recovery can only occur once we have enough time and space to process what we've lived through, what we've lost, what we've learned, and what we've gained.

I suppose, if you're reading this, you're one of the lucky ones too. But regardless, many of us have experienced loss on some level in 15 months: some of us have lost a loved one; others have lost their serenity, security, sanity, sobriety, world view, core beliefs...

Personally, the pandemic has destroyed many of the boundaries, habits, and belief systems that once held my daily routines and sense of self together. This is not necessarily a bad thing; it certainly provides opportunity for new growth, but there are days where my inner landscape feels like El Centro in late September in 1985. There are times when I literally don't know what to do. These feelings of discombobulation are new to me and can lead me to despair. But then I remember just how grateful I am to feel anything at all--to be alive. I have no idea how or when I will feel like myself again, when any of us will feel like ourselves again, but in the meantime, I can reflect on what I miss, what I don't miss, what I've gained, what I've lost, what I've learned, and what I've remembered. This is how I will recover my old and new sense of self and ease back into my daily routines.

Although there is no longer any visible evidence of the destruction caused by the earthquake in El Centro, the historic center of Mexico City, I wonder about the individuals pulled out of the wreckage in the days following the earthquake, especially the young children, the thousands of volunteers and medical workers who worked tirelessly to rescue and save strangers, and the thousands of families who lost a loved one or their home. I wonder how they're doing and suspect they would have a great deal of wisdom to share on how they found resolution and recovery.

I suspect they they would tell us it takes time and it's not easy, but I also suspect they would tell us they are the lucky ones.

As always, thank you for reading,
Georgia

P.S. Three things:

1) Here's a really good idea on how to re-enter the art world: Buy a ticket to our virtual Blue Light Show at Williams Fine Art Dealers on April 29 at 730pm. With your ticket, you will receive an e-catalogue to the thoughtfully curated show, entrance to the live event where you will see the pieces hanging in the gallery and hear about each artist (there will be time for q&a), free shipping on any purchased work, and a 15 percent discount on any work purchased before May 2.

2) This Friday is Yin Yoga! It's the perfect way to release and replenish at the end of the week.

3) See no Stranger is really worth your time whether you join us for the book club or not. Wow!