How We Can Change the World
We start with changing ourselves
Yesterday I saw something that struck me as either extremely optimistic or incredibly misguided.
I had gone to the mall to pick up a Christmas present. There was no problem social distancing, because on this weekday morning, only a few people meandered through the stores.
I expected to see the mall Christmas decorations. People are still putting up trees and stringing lights and celebrating the season, even if we are celebrating in a more muted way. What I didn’t expect was the surplus of holiday clothes.
Glittery gold dresses and sparkling, sequined sweaters filled entire sections of department stores. There were even rows and rows of Christmas sweaters, some of them blinking with lights.
The holiday clothes made me feel like I had been whisked off to a different planet where nobody had heard of coronavirus.
Last year, I was drawn to those clothes. I planned on attending a couple of parties, and I was thrilled to find something sparkly and festive to wear.
But who is going to a Christmas party this year?
Instead of toasting in 2021 with champagne and friends and new clothes, won’t we be hunkered down at home in front of the television watching the ball drop at Times Square?
COVID-19 has exploded. Lockdowns are being reinforced all over the place and we’re supposed to be skipping family events, church and restaurants.
Or at least, I thought we were.
Am I wrong? Are people expecting to wear all those party clothes? Are the retail stores in denial?
Shortly after my trip to the mall, I read this in The Trend Spotter 2020: “There are so many celebrations to attend during this festive season. Of course, you want to look stylish for each of them. With an endless list of events, each requiring a different dress code, picking your Christmas party outfits has never been so exciting. This is the time of year when you get to dress up, go out, and have some serious fun while celebrating.”
Really?
Maybe people plan on buying holiday clothes so they can pretend to go out; get all dressed up with high heels and glitter, then open a bottle of wine and party at home.
But I doubt it. When I’m home, yoga pants or jeans are too tempting. I can’t imagine dressing in sequins and heels just to flop down in front of the TV.
But there were so many holiday clothes; racks and racks and racks of them. If people don’t flock to the stores between now and Christmas, there are going to be some serious markdowns.
When life gets back to normal
Maybe it would be a good time to buy a glittery dress or an ugly Christmas sweater for next year, since surely 2021 will be different and this will all end.
We’ll be back to holiday parties and going out, won’t we?
Maybe. Or maybe not. I’ve already read some dire warnings that have tempered my optimism. The New York Times had an op ed piece titled, Stop Expecting Life to Go Back to Normal Next Year: Americans will need to take pandemic precautions well into 2021.
Do I really expect life to return to normal after this disaster of a year when I’m not even sure what normal is anymore?
I’m starting to think maybe we haven’t been “normal” for a long time, even before the pandemic.
Despite our frenetic pace and booming economy, there were undercurrents that tugged at us, threatening to pull us under. There was a slipping away of compassion and civility and kindness.
Ugliness bubbled and brewed and seethed beneath the surface. There was cancel culture, with mobs of people jumping on the band wagon to denounce anybody who had a different opinion.
There was greed and corruption, in politics and business.
There was violence, erupting now and then like a geyser, creating a rush of news before things simmered back down and we went our merry way.
Better than normal
I don’t want to go back to that normal. Maybe I’m in denial, like the merchants displaying holiday clothes. But I want us, post pandemic, to be better than normal.
The pandemic has created space for me to reflect on the past and consider the future. It’s made me realize I want our future to be brighter and better than the direction in which it was headed.
But how can we bring this about?
I can only start with myself, because I can’t control anything else. My arena of influence is small. But like a pebble thrown in a pond, my actions have ripple effects. If I can affect one person, then maybe that person can affect one more person, and on and on until actions and attitudes make a broader difference and things start to change.
Nine months of seclusion has made me realize I’ve been too content to remain in my comfort zone. Being a bit of an introvert, I limited my social connections to people I felt comfortable with.
But we can’t impact people unless we involve ourselves with people, even if involvement gets messy and uncomfortable at times. This year of forced reclusiveness has made me realize I don’t want to be a recluse. I want to reach out and reconnect more, even it it means risking rejection.
To have an impact, involvement is crucial. Are there causes we are passionate about, but we’ve been too content to watch from the sidelines? Do we want the world to be a kinder, more compassionate place, but we haven’t made an effort to ensure our own interactions are kinder and more compassionate? Do we want to write more convincing articles, but we’re afraid of the response? Do we care too much what people think, so we opt for safety over the possibiliy of rejection?
If I settle back into pre-pandemic ways of interacting, it will be like putting on one of those glittery gold dresses and watching the ball drop in my living room. I won’t impact my small arena of influence.
Instead, I need to put on my newfound resolve and stretch beyond my comfort zone. I need to cast pebbles in the pond and hope for ripples.
I still might not make much difference in the grand scheme of things, but think of how much impact we could have if we all resolved, post-pandemic, to make the world a better place by starting with ourselves.
What if we don’t go back to the living room? What if we decide to go outside where it’s risky? It starts with you and me.