Hope

These are strange and unusual times we are living in. I thought I would document this, so if I ever have to look back there is tangible proof that I pulled through this relatively unscathed.

I am not so naive as to think that there will be resolution in the next week or two. I know how people are starving because they have lost the wages they would have earned as a day labourer. I know the scores of people who face unemployment because their jobs could not provide a job for them. I know how incredibly lucky I am to still have employment when so many others are unsure. I have seen the news reports from back home that detail how people walk hundreds of kilometres to their hometowns because the lockdowns have included public transportation.

We are unsure of so much, so hesitant to plan beyond the next two weeks lest things change again. Everyday on the news it seems like there is a new issue to contend with. Words like recession, collapse, poverty and economic downfall are the new buzzwords as we speak. It is unlikely that we have seen this kind of far-reaching pandemic in our lifetimes, and it is unlikely to be the last one.

It feels bleak. When I wake in the morning and see the sun out, for a brief moment I forget that we are in the middle of the biggest health crisis most of us have seen in our lifetimes. Then I reach for my phone, go through my social media and am reminded of what transpired in the hours that I was asleep. More people have succumbed. Medical staff are having to make increasingly difficult decisions. Apocalyptic predictions of how the global economy will collapse. Who knows what the next headline will be when I wake up tomorrow.

But at the bottom of this nasty Pandora's box, is a little spirit called Hope. Hope was crammed in with the other demons. Disease, pestilence, poverty. They shared the same space, inhabiting the same confines and yet. And yet. Hope emerged from the bottom of the box, to reassure the curious Pandora that she did not ruin everything. Yes, the evils of the world had been unleashed. However, for as long as Hope existed, there was still a chance for things to get better.

Cherry blossoms at Matsumoto castle

Everywhere you look, you read of the doom and gloom that surround us. But glimmers of hope surround us too. Look to the supermarkets opening an hour earlier for elderly and disabled shoppers. Look to the young neighbours looking after the elderly who live around them. Look to the restaurant owners who go out of their way to feed those around them for free. There is goodness still in the world, amid all the chaos that surrounds us.

There are the businesses in Japan who voluntarily shut their doors, even if there is no special directive for them to do so. They are the ones who know that they are helping this blow over faster. There are those who started working from home, even if it is highly unusual for the culture. There are the local governments who have shut down schools for an additional two weeks to slow down the spread. There is the governor who took the initiative and put his own prefecture under a state of emergency to limit the spread of cases in his area. 

I am personally anxious about so much. How my family is doing. Whether this will impact my job. But fears are like a rocking chair, much like the adage says. You are constantly in motion but do not actually make it anywhere. I just have to trust that this is being looked after by those who have the expertise and knowledge to do so. I am doing my part by staying home and staying isolated. 

I stay hopeful by thinking about the things I will do when all this blows over. First, I am looking forward to going on a date with someone I connected with in Tokyo. I am so hopeful that we will have a good time, that it is keeping spirits up. I am also looking forward to turning thirty with renewed hope that things will be better from that point onward. Both for myself and for the rest of the world. 

There is much grief and sorrow as we speak. But I choose to hope and look forward. And until then, I will stay inside and create. And crochet and sing, and reach out. I will watch Netflix with friends and by myself. I will cook and research. I will explore creativity. I will allow myself to fear, but I will not allow myself to wallow. I will stay off the news. I will never take a party or gathering for granted again. I will savour the breath in my lungs, whooshing in and out unimpeded. I will be thankful for the full fridge in my kitchen and the strength of my legs as they stand and carry me around. 

And when I see you my dear friends, I will hug you. I will not fear open displays of affection because I will remember what it is like to be starved of touch. I will hold you to me and see your eyes widen. I will put my hand in yours and feel that you are real and okay. We will think of those who aren't, and the ones who will never be. We will live again, mindfully and with gratitude. 

These were taken in the middle of the afternoon, when there was hardly anyone out. Social distancing is easy when you live in a small town in Japan. 

And just like the buds that form on these trees, they signal a time when things will be beautiful again. I know how briefly these bloom too, so it is up to us to appreciate what we can and hold on to the hope that we will see them again next year.