What an odd weekend. Hot for late September in Northern Minnesota. I did a little food shopping on Thursday, and sat outside over iced tea with a friend on Saturday. Other than that, I felt like I was holding my breath. It might literally have been the calm before the storm; the sky this morning was completely orangish-red, "red sky at morning, sailors take warning". And heavy rain is due soon. I just heard a bird that sounded like something from the rainforest, not that I've ever been to the rainforest, but it didn't sound like a north country bird. All a bit odd, surreal.
I didn't watch any television all summer, and starting tomorrow, I won't be in a situation where extensive TV watching will be appropriate, and so the last few days I confess I binge-watched several favorite British mysteries and also watched morning and evening news. This morning, the patchwork of news items was, itself, surreal. Horrifying and heartbreaking (the Haitian migrants at the border), maddening (the discovery of the body of the missing young woman out west), encouraging (the development of a COVID vaccine for children), and, well, hard to take in (the return of four average people from outer space). My mother died about six months before 911, and as I watched that morning's news twenty years ago, I was so glad that she wasn't there to see it. Since then, increasingly, I've been glad that she (and other old friends and family) can't see the kaleidoscope of strange and jarring visual images we are all exposed to. What would Mom make of any of it? The development of space tourism when millions on earth are homeless. Football stadiums crammed with people in the midst of a pandemic. And, of course, our online world, where we flit from thing to thing every second. I had a moment when I thought, I'm too old, myself, to take all of this in.
This summer was so healthy, in part, because I didn't watch TV or spend much time online. Plopping myself in front of a television screen for a few days after a long hiatus gave me a new awareness -- frankly, I felt manipulated. It may or may not be the intention of news directors (or for that matter, the creators of even the best drama series), but I had the sense that I was being dragged deliberately over a variegated landscape, through horror, then fear, then outrage, then hope, then warm, touchy-feely "isn't that cute". Moving through so many emotions so quickly leaves you numb, doesn't it? Not to mention feeling like a child.
Those of us in our sixties have a patchwork life behind us, no matter what the colors or patterns on the squares. I'm hearing a common theme from friends, the need to do less and focus only on the one or two aspects of life that are most pressing or most appealing. We simply haven't got enough energy to engage in everything that is happening in the world, as urgent as much of it is, and to switch emotional gears every two seconds. We are exhausted and, in many cases, physically disabled or ill. No other generation of human elders has ever been exposed to so much visual and written stimulus, so much anger and human emotion, and so many toxins and manmade foods and materials, through the course of their lifetimes, and each of us is on an unmarked trail through this rocky landscape. News images are of reality, often heartbreaking reality, but we cannot split ourselves into enough pieces to help fix every crisis. It is so easy to fall into hopelessness. Many of us have narrowed down our focus, whether it's committing to addressing a worldwide problem, or helping our community, or helping the environment, or helping our family or friends, or caring for grandchildren, or healing from illness, or trying to benefit humanity in a less tangible way, through the arts, spirituality or culture. At a certain point, you realize you cannot spread yourself so thin any more. It has become an "or" not an "and" scenario, regrettably.
Those black clouds to the west took all morning, but they're about to drop heavy rain. I am thankful to be under a safe roof, and to be well enough to create a new section of my patchwork quilt. I had my TV binge, but it was oddly exhausting, for something you sit passively to do. It's just not a good use of energy at my age. One less thing to focus on.
