A busy mind quieted by collective clang and clatter
By Bethany Good, Toronto, Canada
The world has been forced to slow down, yet my mind remains busy. I am amidst another life transition, finishing my PhD and beginning a private practice. Back in 2003, I was a new social work grad. Just as I was stepping into the workforce, the SARS outbreak emerged, accompanied by a blackout. My job at a children’s hospital was non-essential and ended prematurely. I quickly found a position as a SARS screener at a nearby hospital. Now, like then, my inner experience of trepidation and worry about the future matched the outer unpredictability of the world. Again, I am shifting professional identities during a time of uncertainty and fear. The duration and magnitude of this current crisis makes the experience 17 years ago shrink in comparison. Like back then, I find comfort in service, gratitude, and mindful observation of the world around me.
I’ve noticed during this physical distancing period that despite being alone in my apartment and within my busy mind, there are daily moments that demand a quieting of thoughts to make way for collective emotional expression (grief and gratitude). The banging of pots and pans, drums and horns acknowledging essential workers, draws out unanticipated emotions. My preoccupation with my career, my clients, and family is paused. A surfacing of sadness, gratitude, and anger vibrates with every beat of my metal bowl. The injustice for those obligated to work without needed protection. The horrors healthcare workers are confronting, and the grief for those unable to be with loved ones in their final moments. The gratitude, for the sacrifices of front-line workers, for the wellbeing of my family, and for the privilege of living in a place with a semblance of a social safety net, all come forward in me
As the sound of the clatter fades, just after 7:30 p.m., I walk back into my apartment from the balcony and take a moment to just sit and acknowledge the heaviness of pain fear, anger, and gratitude. Members of the care-mongering community on social media say the banging of pots and pans is selfish and tone deaf, considering essential workers are hostages to workplace policy and systemic inequities. Yet, for a moment from my privileged vantage point of balcony safety, I observe and join my community to together recognize we are confronting the same crisis and feeling the same feelings that transcend solitary busy minds, personal distress, and life-stage transitions. It’s a collective ritual moving me outward, but falling short of social change.