The spread of the Coronavirus is probably the single biggest event to occur in our time because it affects the entire global community. It’s frightening, and confusing – and yet if we take a broader view it makes so much sense. Many of us have been shouting about climate change. The world is overheating, and species are dying off. Poor nutrition and lifestyle choices are wreaking havoc on human health, even in the so-called “blue zones” where people historically have lived to be 100. This has already threatened to overburden the health care systems around the world. Wealth inequity has made kings of many, and paupers of even more. I do believe that nature, and Universal Intelligence, are always striving for balance and the world is out of balance.
Then along comes this virus to stay STOP. With far less driving and flying, air pollution from carbon emissions is already clearing and greenhouse gases will abate. With nobody traveling, the ecological damage caused by overtourism will begin to heal itself. People are having to stay home and cook, potentially helping to create improved nutrition and health. Neighbors are helping and supporting each other. Most of us will come out of this a lot poorer than we began, but perhaps we will be richer in the things that matter. There is a sense that we are all in this together.
We don’t know how this will unfold, how long it will take, or what our fate will be in the end. We are in the time of in-between. So I offer this poem by John O’Donohue, a favorite of mine, and wish you peace and comfort for the coming days.
For the Interim Time
When near the end of day, life has drained
Out of light, and it is too soon
For the mind of night to have darkened things,
No place looks like itself, loss of outline
Makes everything look strangely in-between,
Unsure of what has been, or what might come.
In this wan light, even trees seem groundless.
In a while, it will be night, but nothing
Here seems to believe the relief of dark.
You are in this time of the interim
Where everything seems withheld.
The path you took to get here has washed out;
The way forward is still concealed from you.
The old is not old enough to have died away;
The new is still too young to be born.
You cannot lay claim to anything;
In this place of dusk,
Your eyes are blurred;
And there is no mirror.
Everyone else has lost sight of your heart
And you can see nowhere to put your trust;
You know you have to make your own way through.
As far as you can, hold your confidence.
Do not allow your confusion to squander
This call which is loosening
Your roots in false ground,
That you might come free
From all you had outgrown.
What is being transfigured here is your mind
And that is difficult and slow to become new,
The more faithfully you can endure here,
The more refined your heart will become
For your arrival in the new dawn.