At What Cost Quarantine?
Like many decisions we make, whether we shelter in place or simply reduce the size of our gatherings comes down to two things.
The first is risk and how much we are willing to tolerate. Risk averse? You are not leaving your home, no way no how. Risk tolerant? Sure, you’ll follow the rules. You’ll put your face mask or bandana on. You won’t gather in large groups. But you are still taking walks with friends at a safe distance. You are living your life the best you can with the limitations currently in place. I think the measures we are being asked to take right now, while extreme, are just for the benefit of many. But for how long?
How long do we keep people captive in their homes before we start risking another population — the ones that continue living when the pandemic loses momentum. Yes, of course we want to flatten the curve. Yes, we have to be concerned for others, but at what cost are we insistent that we save every life?
Have we considered the long-term consequences of isolation? I’m not solely talking about economic costs, although those are considerable. What about the costs we’ll pay in health care from people getting sick with other ailments and not getting sufficient care because hospitals are overrun? What about the cases of depression, those who are suffering massive anxiety from not working and financial stress? These are not just mental health issues. If they persist they become physical issues. If you need to understand how physical health is inextricably tied to our mental and social health, I suggest you read a book called The Body Keeps The Score, by Bessel van der Kolk. If we keep this up for many months more, the ramifications could be devastating for those of us who have need to not only survive, but flourish once Covid-19 has its way. Which, in honesty, will be most people.
In California, parks are completely shut down. Our access to nature, one of the greatest sources of community, healing and nurturance, cut off. I understand some precautions need to be established to avoid large gatherings and everyone descending upon state parks and beaches at once (believe me, I live in a state park and was not happy when hundreds of people flocked to our neighborhood from near and far). I understand we are in dire straits and this is not vacation. But fining people for taking walks in their own backyard — people trying to tend to their sanity — this cannot be a long-term solution.
The longer you keep people living in fear, the harder time they will have at re-integrating when the threat is no longer valid: this is PTSD.
I live in California. I am quite liberal. But I am not ignorant of the possibility that if we keep this country shut down much longer, the long-term devastation may far outweigh the short-term tragedies of death. People need to work. Or we are going to hit another Great Depression.
It’s estimated 90–100 people die EVERY DAY in car accidents. Yet, we still drive cars and we drive them fast. Could we build a car that eliminates all risk of dying? Sure. That car doesn’t go over 15mph and is built like a tank. Do we do that? No. We are willing to tolerate the risk of dying on the freeway for the convenience of getting to where we want to go in timely manner.
In short, what is the number of deaths we are willing to accept? I don’t know the answer to that but I do know, historically we’ve been much more willing to tolerate death at the hands of our fellow man in war. And we seem okay with a hundred or so biting the bullet every day in cars.
I know some of you are going to judge me as an insensitive bitch. Those who know me know I am nothing if not sensitive. To a fault. I hate to see others in pain. I cried today when I (safely) passed someone today on a walk and he said hello. Hell, I cry at just about anything at any time, not just now. However, this brings up the second factor motivating our decisions right now. Fear. Specifically, the fear of death.
When examined, there is one, and only one, underlying fear beneath every other fear we harbor. And that is the fear of dying. We are not afraid of getting Covid-19. We are afraid of dying. And those around us dying.
Yet, the cycle of life is nothing new. We are born. We learn some shit. We move on. People die, some by the grace of God, some by the force of nature, others, at the hand of darkness. Yes, it sucks. Yes, there is pain — for anyone who death touches, not just the deceased. But the sooner we get comfortable with the reality of death, the better off we’ll be.
We can’t and we won’t save everyone. Death comes for us all. Our parents. Our siblings. Our friends and loved ones. Often times when we least expect it. But we are not God. Nor should we try to play Her/Him.
I know it sounds cavalier of me, but I’ve rubbed shoulders with death. I’m okay with it. If it’s my time, it’s my time. Of course it would suck. There would be desires left unfulfilled, places unseen. However, I practice surrender and trust every day for this very reason. I have no control. Turning it over to a power greater than myself offers comfort and at times, nothing brings me more peace than the thought of leaving the struggle of life behind and being reunited with Source. These are the gifts of a spiritual practice. Knowing there is more to life than the limited existence we live. That the body is temporary. The soul? Eternal.
So, for the ones of us that do remain, maybe this is the time we question how we are living and what we are living for. What are we so attached to? Our home? Our job? Maybe it’s our legacy, what we leave behind?
Maybe we should be more concerned about living a life that, if we were to die tomorrow, we wouldn’t regret.
