Adapting


This quarantine, man. It's breaking me down.

I keep thinking about this idea that those who fare best in a crisis are those who adapt the fastest.

So what does adapting mean?

Because am I adapting to a temporary situation that will only last another month? Or am I adapting to a time period where things are weird for a year or so? Or is this an entirely new lifestyle?

Am I supposed to adapt without great intel? And not trusting the leaders who are supposed to be rallying us all? (I do not trust good ol' boys clubs anymore. I will not vote for their club members and I will not believe a word out of their lying mouths.)

Am I to adapt to being the weird aunt on facebook who is seemingly yelling into the void about things that make me seem like a doomsday prophet (of one)?

I do not know. I am not adapting well I guess you could say.

But I also keep thinking about that THIS AMERICAN LIFE episode where this scientist decides that we need to stop having big yards with grass that artificially requires so much water and she posts a sign up in her yard that says something like, "This yard is returning back to its natural state, thank you for your patience." And then she just let's her yard go wild, untethered to class warfare ("my lawn says this about how rich I am"), trusting that nature knows how to return after it's been abused of it's own intelligence.

And these two thoughts together make me think that "adapting" during quarantine is work of that lawn. Those who use it to go back to their roots--I mean, all the way back to when we were wild things born free and curious--will endure and come out of it stronger, fiercer, fueled by compassion and needing less artificial validation.

Like people who emerged from the great flu and fueled the roaring 20s.

I have some hope for wild times ahead.

But first I have a remarkable amount of untethering to do.

And yes, it's breaking me down.