No Man Is An Island
A lot can change overnight for one person, but rarely does such change occur to a global community. As I write in mid-April, Virginia waits in lockdown. Virginia is also in the midst of perhaps the most piercingly beautiful spring I can remember. A palette of color cloaks the earth: flowering fruit trees, redbud, and dogwood. Flowers, birds, mammals, and insects go about their lives heedless of the human drama unfolding around the globe. Perhaps our awareness becomes heightened in proximity to death or with the precariousness of life.
In the human realm I’ve seen examples of hoarding, fear, and defiance but many more instances of caring and generosity, from caremongering in Canada to restaurants opening as makeshift soup kitchens, humans acting upon their deepest impulses of love and compassion, communities coming together, neighbors checking up on one another—for this when you get down to it is what matters: each other.
One sun-soft day, I sat outside rereading Andrea Barrett's outstanding short story collection, Ship Fever. Now more than ever the impact of a few lines toward the end made me shiver: Lauchlin lies dying and casts his eyes around to the other people sick in bed and thinks, “It was life, simply life, they had in common, and if he could have his life back he could be happy with anything.” Earlier in the story he thinks to himself: “What had he been so worried about? Fussing and struggling to build a practice, establish himself. Why had he wasted so much time? When he was a boy, he had understood the beauty of daily life.”
The simple joy of life itself is what Wilder expresses in Our Town and many other writers have tried to convey over time. Loving the beauty of daily life is how my dogs live, as well as most animals who embody simplicity, grace, and living in the moment.
John Donne understood our web of connection as he, too, lay feverish, fearing his own death: “No man is an island entire of itself; every man/ is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.” Sometimes it takes a crisis to awaken us and help us realize that our perceived differences and separation are illusions. If there is any silver lining to something like this it is that it forces us to live more simply, to value life more deeply, and in taking nothing for granted, we become grateful for the little things we had and still have: a vase full of flowers, a morning cup of tea, clouds across the sky, a trip to the grocery store, a hug, toilet paper, and each other. Much like post-9/11, it helps us to understand the ineradicable bonds of communities, and gives us a chance to come together as a global society, to view one another not as ‘other’ or from separate tribes, but as part of one family called humanity.
We’d like to say thank you to everyone who has shown such support for the local businesses in our beautiful area as we navigate this unusual time. Perhaps when we emerge on the other side, we will better follow Hafiz’s advice: “When all your desires are distilled; you will cast just two votes: to love more and be happy.” Blessings and good health to all.
Kay Pfaltz