sa国际传媒

We are living through deeply sobering times.聽聽The novel coronavirus/COVID-19 pandemic has turned the world on its head.聽聽The pandemic鈥檚 potential for chaos and destruction has created 鈥渢he most profound emergency since the Second World War.鈥漑1] 聽

The sickest infected individuals are being separated from their families who may never see them again.聽聽Although widespread mitigation measures such as social distancing are in place, the grim harvest of deaths is only going to get worse, at least in the short term.

But against this savage backdrop, it is worth remembering that there are kinder and gentler perspectives on death.聽聽Those who have passed on remain with us in different ways: through their contributions and through our memory of them.聽聽And some would say in other ways as well.聽聽For example, is death another type of social distancing, one that occasionally pulls the curtain back to give us a wink or a nod?

This notion of death as social distancing occurred to me recently.聽聽It was the first day of spring, a little before 8:00 a.m.聽聽Sunshine was pouring through the narrow window abutting the front door.聽聽It was pouring down the hallway illuminating the pantheon of family photos, dating back to the 1860s, that adorn the wall.聽聽The rays鈥� brightness drew my attention to a tiny open card showing two children on the left and a short poem on the right.聽聽The card was the topmost item in a framed collection of ten small聽photos from a century ago.聽聽The card, circa 1917, shows my Uncle聽No毛l (1908-1965), age nine, and my Aunt D茅sir茅e聽(1910-1988), age seven.聽聽The poem reads:

Keep your face with sunshine lit

Laugh a little bit!

Gloomy shadows oft will flit

If you have the wit and grit

Just to laugh a little bit!

Lit by the gleaming rays, I saw that poem as if for the first time.聽聽It was as though I was prompted by my grandfather Sam (1872-1952) and my father Pierre (1918-2002) to see it anew.

I have read that poem before; how many times, I don鈥檛 know.聽聽It and the accompanying photo of聽No毛l and D茅sir茅e聽were part of another pantheon of family photos, one that had been arrayed on the walls of my dad鈥檚 home office and on the walls of the hallway that led to it.聽聽That pantheon, that poem, that specific little photo were integral parts of the physical environment of my growing up.聽聽My psyche absorbed their energy.聽聽And now that pantheon, somewhat changed and relocated to the hallway of my home, is suddenly sparkling, revivified, silently shouting about sunshine and laughter, wit and grit.聽

Even more than No毛l and D茅sir茅e, or their mother Blanche, a.k.a. 鈥淧oppette鈥� (1885-1969), it is Sam and Pierre of whom I am most aware.聽聽I am conscious of the care they invested in their creations: the card Sam had made; the ten small photos selected, organized and framed by Pierre.聽聽Their creations are not only celebrations of No毛l and D茅sir茅e, of the joy they brought to others, they are also memorials to a single family at a particular place and point in time, freeze-frames of splendour in the sacred progression of generations.

The extraordinary response of our governments, and of society as a whole, to look after our collective and individual well-being in the face of the pandemic is immensely heartening, despite the uncertainties involved.聽聽It shows what we are made of, what we are capable of.聽聽It means we don鈥檛 have to accept poverty or extreme inequality or environmental degradation, if we don鈥檛 want to鈥攊f we choose to apply our wit and grit and inner light to build a better world, one that honours Gaia and that safeguards the healthy succession of current and future generations.聽

As that little poem suggests, let鈥檚 put the emphasis on the positive.聽聽Various commentators on the current crisis are doing just that.聽聽Globe and Mail聽columnist Doug Saunders has noted: 鈥淒uring this crisis, and in its long recovery, it would be a terrible waste if we did not spend in ways that also make the world a cleaner and more resilient place.鈥漑2]

In the聽sa国际传媒, columnist Trevor Hancock observed: 鈥淚t might be that with this combination of reduced consumption and reduced environmental harm, coupled with societal commitment to ensuring the meeting of basic needs for all, we will find ourselves unintentionally creating the well-being economy we need in the 21^st听肠别苍迟耻谤测.鈥漑3闭

Rumi, the thirteenth-century Sufi mystic and poet, tells us:

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.

聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽Don鈥檛 go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.

聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽Don鈥檛 go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill

聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.

聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽聽Don鈥檛 go back to sleep.[4]

An author and historian, Patrick Wolfe lives in Victoria, British Columbia