What is in one is in the whole. Our illusions of separateness and disconnection are being exposed for the paper thin lies that they are. We have to effort into social distance, because it turns out that the norm is proximity and contact.

The world, rather than being out there and full of them, is revealed to be swirling with tides of comings and goings. We are a species on the move, having just been wherever we thought there was, not sharply aware of how nearby there might be.

This is a very small boat we’re on, sailing through this dark and starry universe. There is just this one boat, that we all share, just this one blue marble with nowhere to hide. What is in one is indeed in the whole.

We are learning what leaders can and cannot do for us, learning what we can and cannot do for each other. We have to ask, what if everyone did? We have to wonder if we are as special, as exceptional a we thought. We have to ask how we can help.

We have to wonder if the media is being reasonable. We have to ask what is really true and what is really overstated.

We have to wonder about all that is unknown and how we sit with unknowing.

We have to think about how our decisions affect others. We have to soften our hearts to the otherwise often invisible elders. 

We have to admit, finally, that bodies are the great and fragile equalizers. Not that they are all equal, but that they are law-abiding and inescapable and the breeding-ground, the host for the fragility we all share.

Your body doesn’t lie, and doesn’t think you’re more or less special than anyone else. It’s the very tangibility of bodies that brings us to vulnerability. It’s our absolute unknowing of what they need and want that spark our fears and hoarding. We don’t know these soft and loving animals. 

We know fear and scarcity. We know mine and more.

But now we see consequences. We see impact.

What is too much? What is too little? What is your circle saying? Who is spreading kindness? Who is spreading fear? Who is profiting? Who is dismissing?

More contagious than any virus is fear and an anxiety fixed on scarcity.

More contagious is calm and reassurance, the patient reminders to do what we can and that we’ll be ok.

Who do we turn to? What voices are we stocking up on?

I’ve always wondered, in the zombie apocalypse, who I’d be. A preacher and medicine woman, still, it turns out. Obsessed with wondering what we might learn, what we might see. What we might need to learn and see. Why this is coming to us now and in this way. 

We have so devastatingly forgotten that what is in one is in the whole, that we are in fact in all of this together, that connection is the default, and that our choices have an impact on others. What a reminder, and may we remember.