In mid-March, I was informed my first pair of prescription, progressive glasses were ready for pickup. At checkout, the clerk handed me an instruction guide for my new lenses. I internally scoffed—who needs instructions for how to use a pair of glasses?
Turns out I did.
Progressive lenses simultaneously provide a clear view of cars while driving, screens 8-12 feet across a room and the pages of a book resting in a lap. And yes, it takes time to learn to use them.
For the first several days, until my eyes adjusted on their own, I had to be intentional about which part of the lens I looked through depending on the distance of the object I wanted to see. Countless times I almost tripped walking down stairs because I looked through the lower section intended for reading, not walking.
It was an adjustment, but now I am enjoying time in my hammock, easily shifting my gaze between the clouds above, an adorable puppy walking by and the book I am reading. It’s glorious!
In his collection of prose entitled Consolations, David Whyte writes:
Maturity is…the ability, despite our grief and losses, to courageously inhabit the past the present and the future all at once. The wisdom that comes from maturity is recognized through a disciplined refusal to choose between or isolate three powerful dynamics that form human identity: what has happened, what is happening now and what is about to occur.
Last week, residents in Northern India posted pictures of the Himalayan Mountains with a new sense of awe. With improved air quality from the shutting down of factories, the highest peaks in the world became visible in a way they hadn’t seen in thirty years.
As the U.S. debates about when and how to emerge from this time of sheltering and quarantine, I’m asking myself two questions:
What are the “Himalayan” realities in my life I can now see?
How can I carry these with me in a way that straddles the past, present and future in a more mature way?
COVID-19 has not been the great equalizer it felt like in late March when my privileged, buffered life experienced it as merely an extended spring break.
This past month has profoundly exposed the cost of racial inequity in our country, the crucial role of women in our workforce and the tragic plight of underpaid essential workers upon which our lives depend. Mercy, healing and peace to those sacred souls whose lives encompass all three categories.
What insights about your life loom large on your horizon? What clarity do you have about your past, present and future from the sense of suspended time we were all given? How are you being called to live differently as we all begin the long, incremental process of choosing our new normal?
