Popping the bubble

I'm feeling a mixed bag of emotions right now. In NYC, the curve is turning downwards and everyday there is positive news from Cuomo. Slowly a trickle of mostly mask-wearing New Yorkers are venturing outside. Warm spring breezes tempting us to leave our apartments. Little restaurants opening doors and windows to offer take out. We still relish the 7pm pot banging, clapping and cheering for healthcare workers. The need to cheer is there, but the desperation of connecting with neighbors window to window is less urgent. Each of us are slowly venturing back into the world, sticking a toe into the waters of normalcy and poking tiny holes in our bubbles.

We live in a world where the we are rooting for hope, for relief...while heart crushing articles keep pouring in. A delusional head of state. Racial violence. 100,000 Covid deaths. Uncertainty. Hope. Uncertainty. Hope. It's like living on a rollercoaster daily. Scrolling through Instagram I saw a post of the NYTimes' Sunday Magazine cover, an illustration of a small woman, a box drawn around her multiple times expanding out to the edge of the page. The title, "What We Learned in Quarantine."

We are all more reflective these days. Slowing down has shown us what we can live without. Downtime gave us space to think. While in my bubble, I saw joy in the simplicity and smaller things in life. Life shifted, the frantic busy-ness and rushing went away. Making dinner or chatting with my teen were my "to dos". Long zoom chats - phones left on counters as we cleaned dishes or made coffee, staved off the loneliness. Real conversations, real emotions, were the norm. The world experienced hardship, fear and suffering together - a shared bond. It feels like an in-between state now, a sort of purgatory, fits and starts of normalcy in some ways, other things changed for good.

My work as a photographer is starting up again. Slowly and carefully, I am shooting...mostly outdoors...and with social distancing. I'll drive, not fly, to my next job, 11 hours away by car. Work will be different, people will move slower, we will all be more careful and cautious.

We are far from out of the woods. And life will be different for months, if not years. I watch the news with caution. I wonder what fall will bring and if my child will return to school. If we will be asked to re-quarantine. How life will change in New York and if we will have a second wave.

I've learned to make friends with fear and uncertainty. Or at least practice. In this new reality I hold the excitement of hope and possibility with the knowing that things could change on a dime. Fear pokes it's head out often and I try to smile at it. The groundlessness Pema Chodron speaks about is all too apparent now. She writes, "Be curious. Welcome groundlessness. Lighten up and relax. Offer chaos a cup of tea.” I think I'll do what she recommends and start the kettle. Here's to the unknown.