2020: March-May.

Currently, life looks like is a combination of the following: waking up at 6am to a sky that is just waking up, too; feeding the dog; feeding ourselves; heading to the dog park (also referred to as the Wagging Tail Convention); starting my work day (at my living room, with my second cup of coffee, in my pyjamas); patting the dog, a welcome distraction when I need a break; moving my body at noon, be it yoga, barre or a walk downtown; making dinner or baking something new; a long evening walk through the woods with J & Frey before relaxing with a show or a book (right now, it’s J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit). Repeat and rinse, 5 days a week. On the weekends, we have been repainting the house and spending time on calls to family many miles away, leaving only to revisit the Wagging Tail Convention for longer periods of time or do our weekly grocery shop, always an exercise in humility in these “apocalyptic” times, when the shelves are bare of what you needed and you must improvise.

Being mindful not to get stuck in a rut of monotony, we try to find little ways to make things special or different, like switching our weekend routine so that, on occasion, I join J at the wood shop, or going a slightly different way on our evening walks with Freya, or getting takeout and supporting a local restaurant that may be struggling during these times (which also gives us a break from thinking about dinner). Given that I already spend most of my work day on the computer, I try to carve out time away from it when I’m not working, which helps me to feel as if I’m doing something positive for my wellbeing.

These strange times ask us all to be creative, flexible, patient and resourceful. There is something to be learned from this reset of our world as we knew it. For every piece of bad news, there are many reports of the good: people in the community delivering essential supplies to total strangers who cannot leave their homes. Friends leaving surprise gifts on others’ doorsteps. Companies stepping up to create and offer things we actually need—rideshare companies using their systems to deliver basic goods instead; hand sanitizer being made by distilleries and soapmakers, apparel manufacturers making masks and personal protective equipment for our healthcare workers. A prime minister and her ministers (I’m looking at you, Jacinda Ardern) taking a 20% pay cut in solidarity with those most deeply affected by the pandemic. With the world at a standstill, our environment can also receive a much-needed break.

Inside our very homes, we’re seeing a change, too. Finding new ways to connect with ourselves and each other; carving out time for what didn’t seem important before, but is critical now.

I am grateful for this incredible opportunity to do things differently; to slow down and to enjoy life day by day; to do only a handful of things at once and do them well. Slowing down is the best thing for my busy, anxious mind; so often compelled to *do*, I am left with the bare bones of what life really is—a string of rather ordinary moments, often made up of mundane tasks.

So, can we be happy with what is perfectly ordinary? The answer is yes, yes, joy lingers here too, and we need only to make the brave choice to let it in, without finding reasons it cannot stay. We need not look outside ourselves for it; it does not hide in extravagant objects or extraordinary places. It is here, in plain sight, in the cooking of the eggs and in the making of the sheets; in the chemistry of flour, yeast and salt; in the light streaming in through dirty windows. It lies in the dishes undone from meals well-enjoyed, and in the long evening walks through woods so familiar we could name them. There it is again, in the smell of brewing coffee and in the crisp pages of a book; in the watering of the plants and in the cleaning of the floors. It is in the quiet, heavy hellos to strangers that say, “I am right here with you, and I hope you are well”. It even sits in the grief over a world that suffers more than it thrives, and in the sorrow we each quietly carry throughout our lives. If we ever forget, here it is, in this list, for us to remember that yes, yes—joy lingers here, too.

Below: a documentation of our lives over the last 7 weeks since the coronavirus pandemic began in Alberta, Canada. Some images of life B.C. (before coronavirus) are here: January-March.