No one wanted this essay lol
Oh, hi friends!
Here is something I wrote back in April, during the early days of the pandemic in New York. It never found a home, but when I came across it yesterday, I realized I could just give it one myself.
Everything feels different now — does it where you live? — yet having this reminds me to document life as it comes and goes.
***
What a strange feeling.
Tucked in the cracks of grief, anxiety, and fear (so much fear) I've found myself, again and again, struck by complete and utter awe.
Because every day I've witnessed friends and strangers doing miraculous things, things worthy of respect and wonder. You probably have, too.
One friend of mine, now six months pregnant and jobless, is using her newly bare schedule to connect with people and expand her business on social media. Another friend battled a 103-degree fever for three weeks and, while recovering, asked me over Facebook Messenger if there was anything I might need during isolation. Who does that?
There are still more friends who are navigating their own health challenges — Covid-related or not — and are toughing it out alone, but still texting and cracking jokes. Here’s a meme, a cute penguin video, a chill song that’s good background music. If I have these friends in my circle, I imagine you might, too.
Small, generous acts surround us. Individuals, collectives, and companies are turning into mask-making professionals. Listen close and you can hear sewing machines chugging. Look closer and you'll see straining fingers hand-stitching rectangles that exist solely to protect a stranger's face. They are making something out of absolutely nothing.
The other week my boyfriend's dad mailed us two surgical masks. They traveled only eight miles, from the Upper East Side to Brooklyn Heights, but his thoughtfulness and their journey through the postal system felt like a small miracle. Certain systems are still functioning. The center is holding.
Of course, each of our experiences are different. Those isolating alone might wish for connection; others in busy households may dream of a quiet moment. Some lives are scheduled down to the second, others who have lost all income see a parade of empty hours on their calendar. It’s hard to know how to commiserate in exactly the same way. The person you’re texting right now might be quietly spiraling, while another friend who’s been offline for weeks may be quietly thriving. And then they each might feel the opposite tomorrow.
But how many people do you hear actively complaining? Last month’s adjustments and anger have been replaced by a collective shrug. Okay, another day, let’s keep going. We’re pushing through, deploying compassion like paper airplanes. Need anything? How're you holding up? Sending good thoughts to you. We fly through another day.
Some of the most ambitious people I know have been frozen for weeks, unable to create, but are slowly thawing after a rest. Now they’re resetting. What will they make next, when they’re fired up again? Their ambition is still there, dormant but pulsing.
For others, this chaos is pointing them in a new direction. They are summoning from the madness a sense of purpose by gathering supplies, delivering groceries, becoming the helpers they didn't know they could be. We’ve remembered how good it feels to be needed.
In New York, we shout into empty streets at 7 p.m. every night in honor of health-care and essential workers, an act which feels like part celebration, part existential wail. Faced with unending stillness, our voices continue to shake and hum, to join and rise. We remember we have voices.
We watch people grieve or fight illness, care for patients and come home to empty houses, stock store shelves or deliver Instacart orders, create digital curriculum or teach it over Zoom, and balance remote work with parenting.
They are going beyond the upper limits of “productivity” into, well, what else to call it but essentialism? They are doing what needs to be done.
How could this not be inspiring?
There is so much horror, so much tension, so much unknown. But that's not what I want to remember from this time. While it's still happening, I want to hold on to the resilience, ambition, and adaptability of those around me.
I want to remember the awe.
Kara’s Better-Late-Than-Never Film Recommendations
Oh hi, it’s me again, here to recommend a movie you probably definitely saw four years ago! I’m not sure how I never saw Spotlight — it did win Oscars for Best Picture and Best Original Screenplay — but turns out it’s exactly the kind of movie I love: crisp script, riveting story, characters deeply engaged in process. All that, plus Mark Ruffalo! It’s on Netflix now.
Do you like these daily emails? Please share with a friend!
Thanks, as always, for reading.
Love, Kara