“It is what we make out of what we have been given, not what we are given, that separates one person from another.”
The above quote is attributed to Nelson Mandela. It is something we can all take from during these odd times. Over the last few years, I've lived a simple life. A bed, a table, a laptop, my clothes, a bedroom, a phone, a car, and a feline friend named Swag who has reminded me of my value. I've lived in five different places in the past three and a half years It's been much longer than I've felt at home anywhere. I have food, security, shelter. I am content with that. I have two jobs, albeit they are part-time, and, in general, I have my health. I have family, albeit some strained, friends, and some intimacy. I have freedoms, respect for and from those I care about, strength from within and from others, and at times, recognition. I am a better person than I was five years ago. I eat healthily, despite quite a bit of drinking. I get more exercise, I'm kinder, more reserved, and I'm patient. Maslow would say I'm right where I need to be. I've learned, much like Mandela mentions, to make the most out of what I have. This is not to say one should not strive to have more, but this idea that material objects are proof of more is where I differ from most. My lack of desire for objects is why this controlled chaos has not even begun to affect me.
During this so-called quarantine, I have, much unlike this Spring, blossomed into what I want to be. I want to be the neighbor who says hello as I walk by. I want to be with animals much of the day. I want to admire a fallen tree or lose myself in the ripples on a lake or stream. I want the giggles of kids to snap me out of it and remind me of what lies ahead. I want my legs to sting from the miles I've traveled and not due to inactivity. I want to laugh at others' stories and hear them laugh at mine. I want to have serious conversations and wonder deeply how I can be part of that change/ I don't have everything. The past few years I've been surrounded by selfishness, recognizing sadly that this is the norm in today's people. I avoid conversations and while it negatively affects me at the moment to shun human contact, it keeps me sane. I never really believed in the power of one's aura, mostly because I've always felt those who talk about such things, like auras, chi, their witchcraft, spirituality, and religion were doing so to mask their negativity. I still believe this to a greater extent, but I've realized mine needs to be positive to bring back positivity. I may be failing if what surrounds me physically is a reflection of myself. I'd like to think, much like the recent holidays celebrate, this is a test.
I've become drawn to religion, not in the worshipping sense, but in the community it offers. I've embraced the calming effect a trusted minister conveys. While this community appears only as words on a feed, it is felt. I realized last night why I have shunned the ideas of masks. I fully realize their importance. I realize my wearing one and those around me wearing them is of utmost importance, but the entire mandate has saddened, maybe even angered me. Last night, while lying in bed, I looked over at Swag. The night looked bright as lights reflected off the snow-covered trees. The window cast a shadow across his face, leaving only his eyes and ears visible. I realized then why the masks upset me so. It will cover the one thing I've seen more from strangers during this time than ever before; smiles.
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