The feeling we all have is grief
The world we've lost, the world we're in, and the world to come.
I stepped out to take a breath of air today, and I was blindsided by the surreality of it all. My next door neighbor was fixing his lawn; we talked about everything and nothing. I couldn’t help thinking, in the quiet and the sunshine and the bright, crisp air: soon, this will all be over, and we’ll be back to normal.
So: I was talking with a work colleague yesterday afternoon, and he was asking me how I was feeling. And I answered him with a question: you remember when you asked me what it felt like to be in Iraq? Well, this is the closest you'll come. If you're like me, you know intellectually that individually the chances of anything bad happening aren't great. But you can't guarantee that.
Sure, you could get grazed. You could even take shrapnel to the chest, like me. But there's always the non-trivial chance -- much greater here, since about 20% or so of cases get really fucked -- that you wind up on the wrong side of that calculation. And that low-key dread is just lying there, day after day, for as long as you're under these conditions. And you’ve just got to keep going, no matter what, until it's over.
No wonder this shit changes you fundamentally. It's gonna change you, especially when things really go south. This isn’t normal, and we won’t go back to normal, because normal is gone. And you know what that weird feeling is, that’s lurking in the back of your soul, or your mind, just out of conscious reach?
Grief.
That discomfort you’re feeling is grief. Grief is all around us, and there’s more than one kind of it. There’s the grief we feel because everything is upside down: things have changed, and even though we know this will pass, it certainly doesn’t feel that way. Grief that the world we knew is lost, and never coming back; grief about what the future holds — the specter of illness and death, a storm gathering, then crashing upon us, invisibly, and yet powerfully visible in its ability to take health and life.
I grieve. On more than one day, I’ve sobbed at the idea of how good it’ll feel to finally hug someone on the other side of this. I’ve cried at the idea of seeing my cats, who don’t live with me. At the idea of visiting the Met, or watching an opera, or going to a baseball game.
I’m writing this because this is real, and writing compels me to deal with the reality of this crisis, and transcend the surreality of our lives. I hope what I write helps you; if it does, that’s all I ask. And if you think it’ll help someone else, please share it. If you’re new here, you can sign up here.
Stewart Butterfield on leading Slack during a pandemic — the unique first-hand perspective of seeing the world shift to remote work, including his own company.
Without social safety nets, desperate Americans turn to GoFundMe. America is a rich country that feels like a poor country; a failed state run by a failed government, and it’s really obvious right now. It doesn’t have to be this way; it is because we’ve chosen to be this way, and we can just as easily choose a better world.
How the Pandemic Will End — well-researched feature on The Atlantic about what went wrong, where it's going, and what needs to happen next.
Breaking Down The Disinformation Ecosystem Around Coronavirus — well-meaning people are accidentally spreading bad information, alongside profiteers and bad actors doing it deliberately. Don’t be one of these people.
The Verge’s guide to watching movies with friends online — I used some of these to watch a halfway-decent TV show about the early days of soccer on Netflix last Friday.
Concealed Spaces — José Manuel Ballester removes human figures from classic paintings.
Virtual Travel Photography in the Age of Pandemic — Noah Kalina is snapping moments from live feed webcams of public places around the world.
Internet Archive’s National Emergency Library — they've removed waitlists for over 1.4 million scanned books. This is so fucking awesome.
This thread is bonkers good.
Yesterday was supposed to be Opening Day for baseball. I’m pretty sad about that. But I’m getting comfort by streaming Ken Burns’ Baseball for free, courtesy of him asking PBS to do so! Thank you, Ken! Here’s Episode One.
An absolutely surreal drone tour of pandemic-emptied San Francisco.
Listen: I love you. I love all of you, and I’m devoutly praying like I haven’t since I was at war in Iraq that we get through this. I’m hoping and praying that you get spared, and that our friends get spared, and that no matter what happens, we get the strength, love, and compassion we need to get through this. If you need anything, I’m here for you; just hit reply.
Let’s take care of ourselves, those we love, and get some rest if we can.