committing to wisdom

There’s a painting in my home office of an approach to Mount Monadnock, where the leading roads are snow-covered and dotted with cottages, and the spaces between leafless trees glow with a lavender dusk or dawn. There are no human figures visible, but when sunlight hits the painting just right (as it’s doing now), the landscape comes alive, vibrantly so. I wonder who lives here, and what they’re doing in their winter lives.

My husband and I have been clearing the nearly 25 inches of snow delivered this weekend. It’s been quite the task. Dire “Bombogenisis” snowpocalypse warnings began midweek, market shelves emptied of already supply-chain-short products, and when early flurries flew on Friday night, most were home, preparing for the storm. We did wake up to a bona-fide blizzard, with very high winds and white-out conditions, but I chose to tempt fate, take a risk, and began several projects that were electricity-dependent. The fates were kind. We never lost power here (though many unfortunately did), as snowdrifts covered windows and blocked doors. The projects undertaken resulted in batches of delicious muffins, and hand-colored cards. Worth that risk.

“Calculated risk-taking” seems to be our daily gamble as The Pandemic stretches toward its nearly two-year existence. The science surrounding variants and vulnerability shifts like sand, and each individual, each family, each pod must decide how to live in the face of risk. My mother used to say, in her Irish-Catholic sensibility, that just leaving the house every day meant taking a risk, and she was right. But leave the house, she did — and leave the house we must. We can act responsibly without letting fear rule, we know what provides protection to ourselves and others, and not just from the virus, but from other dangers. To paraphrase: the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward … wisdom?

It’s long past time for the grownups in the room to show up.

It’s long past time to continue to allow ourselves to be whipsawed by misinformation, predatory advertising and political manipulation. It is time for the wise, the just, the kind and the compassionate to speak up — to shout — to lead. And I happen to believe that would be most of us — living our winter lives.

None of this is about individual liberties. All of it is about weathering this Pandemic storm, with great concern for each other, and intent on participating in the cleanup after the storm.

Calculated risk-taking can produce worthy outcomes, and winter landscapes can glow with life and promise. If we are wise enough to behold truth, be beholden to each other, and commit to the opportunity of what’s next.

May it, may we, be so.