Blog

It started when I began to take the train to work.  I felt so unsettled when the train would pull into the main station.  Six rows of trains with platforms between, and like cattle we would leave the train and be funneled into the terminal before we had the choice of which exit to take, which route to follow.  The massive hoard of black shoulders was all I could see as we would lumber along our way.  Some days I would enjoy being swallowed up in the crowd, but most days not.

It was the sameness of it all, everyone hunched down in their own thoughts and problems, almost everyone wearing black, the only varying degree their bag, whether it be a crossbody, a knapsack, or dangling from a hand. If an obstacle were placed in our path, a bottle neck would form much like cars in rush hour traffic.  No one would look up or misstep, the large mass of bodies would just ebb and flow like the tide.  Everyday would begin exactly like the day before.

The subway was even worse: the mass of bodies lined up on the platform, an already full train pulling into the station. We all surge forward, pushing to get in the car rather than be forced to wait another three minutes for the next.  I remember one day in particular, people cramming in so hard that the doors had difficulty closing.  I was pushed up against the centre pole, bodies pressed so hard against me that my arms were pinned to my side and there was absolutely nothing I could do. I had no control, I was at the mercy of the crowd, at the mercy of the train driver, and at the mercy of nature as I was reminded how far under the ground this train ran.

At that moment I cried out to God in prayer, picturing a silver string of light from the bowels of the earth to the sky. God do you see me? Do you know me? Do you hear me? Do I make any difference in this world?

I felt invisible, unknown, and alone.

From time to time I think to myself that I should have lived in the 1950’s.  The picture-perfect world that is shown on tv and wistfully remembered on Facebook.  The world where kids respected adults, teachers were believed over the student, attire was modest, and going on a date required the parents meeting the boy first, home by 11 with a chaste kiss.  Families attended church, had a dog, and the lawn was perfectly manicured. When you passed someone in the street, you tipped your hat or waved hello while you looked them in the eye.

It began only a few short weeks ago, and already the life that was so familiar to us has become a thing of the past.

And I watch and I wonder.

I watch the people on the street, in the stores.  What was once a mass of bodies in a rush to get to the next thing, pushing or jostling a little to get to where they need to be, now forced into distances too far to touch.  So quickly the time of pushing up against each other without a second thought in a rush to get home is gone, people cross the street in avoidance when I am a block away. Stepping outside requires protection, planning, and patience.

New rules, new way of life.  Confinement and restrictions; in a strange way I find this comforting.  I feel safe because, although isolated and having little control over what comes next, the world is trying to work together, to find our new way. When I walk down the street, I look at the person coming towards me.  I pay attention and I smile, or I wave, and sometimes I even tip my hat. 

I wonder, is this our moment to take a step back, to slow down and notice each other?  Is this our chance to make some good out of bad?

Love,