Today’s Daily Stoic writing prompt: Am I showing or telling?
I get the dichotomy here–the old “actions speak louder than words” concept–but words CAN be equally powerful if they describe or underscore actions. Telling the story is sometimes as important as doing the thing–provided that there actually is a story to tell, and that it’s yours to share.
One year ago today, on the 50th day of my diary-keeping, I took stock of where we were.
“Lockdown is tiring, but I’m becoming used to it. I’m learning not to have outsized expectations about the future, to be skeptical but realistic about both doomsaying and good news alike. I’ve learned that little of this has any impact on my daily life. I have no itch to push the limits of isolation. It’s not worth it. But I want it to be over. I want the world to begin to heal, and to learn, before it is too late. And I fervently pray that when–if–I read this next year, the worst will be in the past–even as I know it very well might still be raging–if not the virus itself, then the long-term aftereffects that we know will come, for better or worse.”
Ah, sweet summer child. In just a matter of weeks, the US, already reeling from the peak of the first wave, would be caught up in the reaction to the death of George Floyd, and the ripples from that have not yet stopped resounding. But summer would lie ahead–a time when we got just a little of the “normal” back. The Museum reopened. We had meals with bubble friends. We even took a one-day holiday to Niagara Falls. But the fall was cruel, and the winter crueler. There was both hope and anger in the US–Biden’s victory, but then the storming of the Capitol and the refusal of the defeated incumbent to concede.
We now have vaccines flooding in here in Canada, and the US, ahead of us in this race, has made great progress. But we have variants, and we have places like India that are now falling into catastrophe. Our current daily case count makes the triple digit zenith of last spring seem like nothing.
Are things brighter now? It’s day 415 of what I have described as a siege. We may start to get out of this in a month or two, but I was likely prophetic when I drew those parallels to the Siege of Leningrad. Is this going to last for over three years? Quite possibly. The encirclement of Leningrad was broken in January, 1943. If we compare this with the current situation, that comparable milestone is about 2 1/2 months away–that would put us in later July. But the siege itself lasted a year longer. And I honestly think that’s more likely than a situation, one year from now, where this pandemic is nothing but a bad memory.
Right now, I’m tired. But I push on. A year ago seems like forever, and it seems like yesterday. My time on this earth is not without limit, and could end at any time. Yes, I am not unhappy with my lot. But I can still wish that brighter days return soon. I play my small part in that symphony, rehearsing, preparing.
Latin poetry recitation for the Bardic War recorded, compiled into one video file, and sent off. While it’s not perfect, I am happy with it. I have a lot of work to do if I want to get actually good at reciting metred Latin poetry, but it’s kind of fun, and I may continue with it.
You can tell you’re starved for excitement when the highlight of your day is the fact that the new hand vac arrived. Oh, and I filled out my census. Hope springs eternal that by the next election, I’ll be part of a riding that isn’t overwhelmed by its rural component. Our current MP is an idiot–and will not run again–but I’m tired of any warm body conservative being assured of victory.