Early on, the images and videos that were coming out of hospitals made me cry, kept me up at night, made it hard to sleep, and made the sleep poor when it did come. Now, I'm hearing updates daily about areas in the country in which the crisis situation of refrigerator trucks to hold the bodies is playing out either all over again, or for the first time.
Typing "refrigerator trucks to hold the bodies" put a lump in my throat, but didn't make my cry.
I'm not suggesting that I should be crying and losing sleep every day, because the value in those reactions feels to me as though it diminishes the more they happen. The drying up of these wells seems to go two major ways - indifference and action. This also speaks to me as related to the idea that White tears can only go so far in efforts toward racial justice: at a certain point, those tears need to be turned into tangible action.
That said, there is a certain stuck-ness to this idea, as far as the pandemic is concerned. With so much more to know still, action of any kind can feel under-thought out or wrong, or turn out to be wrong after it is tried. While as a truism, chance of failure and/ or set-back cannot be what keeps one from trying, this idea is particularly sensitive in this kind of situation, as it doesn't mean not winning the long-jump trophy, it can mean acute sickness with potential long-term complications we don't understand yet, and death.
I muse about all this with myself and anyone who might end up reading because I wish to hold myself accountable for striking a balance - as I think could apply to anything in life I ponder. I wish to balance awareness with effort. Compassion with self care. Thought with action.
I think at this moment, I just feel that perhaps I could use to see a few more images and videos from hospitals in the middle of the fire.
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