Like many, I have picked up a new hobby lately, amateur virology. I’ve plotted exponential curves of terrible statistics, pored over journal articles, re-learned basic biological lessons, and been part of call after call with scientific experts.
Science is a comfort and a joy. It gives a structure for learning, helps us to quickly adapt to new circumstances, and gives us models for recovery. When done especially well, science also illuminates the other parts that are needed, like capacity for reflection, and compassion, and connection.
But the waiting, the getting from here to there – this part is hard. After three days of rain and endless worries, new and old, and weeks spent connecting in one disembodied way after another, all the science in the world is still not enough. Even the best-stocked pantry of personal wherewithal still falls short.
In this stage of weirdly collective isolation, we need one more ingredient. In this holiest of weeks, as the birdsong gets louder and the daffodils get brighter, we need to believe in progress and emergence, in recovery and renewal.
Dear ones, behind the clouds, the sun is rising.
We need to keep the faith.