Photo by Camila Motta.
Most striking are the homemade masks, one of which I’m wearing in this photo. I’ve seen a mask made out of a green tea shirt by a man’s mother, with the word “THRIVE” printed on it.
Then there are a variety of bandanas, scarves, or pieces of material draped, tied, precariously poised on the nose—but all doing their jobs. It’s also been surprising how easy it is to recognize friends even with masks and sunglasses.
And, speaking of sunglasses, the issue of how to stop them fogging up when worn as they have to be with masks. If you wash your sunglasses with soap and water, they don’t fog up, at least for the day.
Then, there are expressions of gratitude I’ve never seen before: notes on the sides of some garbage cans thanking the tireless garbage collectors, a heart drawn on paper on the side of a mailbox, also expressing gratitude, and generally more smiles (you can actually see them even with masks!), more cheerful hellos when I’m out walking Pip on the blessedly empty streets.
And what about the enormous improvement in our environment, the silence, the far greater presence of songbirds (maybe not more birds, but songs that I hear much more frequently in the quiet), the lack of exhaust fumes, the great clarity of the sky both night and day. This is what we were losing because of climate disruption; this is what we are suddenly getting back.
“Starting the economy” will destroy all this. As long as our economy depends on relentless growth—like the cancer cell in its relentlessness—we can’t do anything substantial about climate change. As long as we are all relentless consumers—those of us who can afford it—going to malls, eating at restaurants, driving and flying all over the place, we will be in trouble.
This is a huge issue since capitalism depends on relentless growth and relentless consumerism.
So I’m looking for hope and inspiration to all these examples of creativity, especially the small stones that a neighbor paints with hopeful words and slogans—WE WILL GET THROUGH THIS TOGETHER, for example—and places by the sides of our roads.
Almost invisible—and then I look down and see one, like inspiration itself.
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