John Wise

Pandemic, you bring us back to nothingness. With an infinity of communication in the realm of the banal, we are rendered into primeval shadows of the humans that once were. We are no longer presenting our modern or better selves, nor are we borrowing emergent art or knowledge from our potential future selves that might re-present a new course of culture and thought. We are ceasing to exist. This is the transition from human to metahuman. In this in-between reality, we offer digital fragments of symbols that allude to what had been a meaningful past, but those chimeras are losing their context as humanity drifts in the silence of pulsing light and disease. To break free of this descent into the abyss of meaninglessness, we must throw off all that has been known and shroud ourselves in the artifacts of a future that does not yet exist on the plane of sleeping awareness.

Form and convention, symbol, and brand can emerge from a random new visual language, algorithmically drawn from structures hinted at in the cascade of light yet to be transmitted. The thoughts and images of history being created tomorrow must break with what existed milliseconds ago on that service known as the internet. Escape velocity might be lost before we ever lay one synapse into this quantum dimension because we are afraid of what lies ahead. We are afraid of knowledge, of becoming, of evolving, of everything besides death. Our death is the delivery to our hoped-for eternal, perfect place that was painted by ancestors looking to escape the horrors of existence and uncertainty. Today, as we face the modern horrors of change, we are once again turning to acceptance of being nowhere with nothing more than vague superstitions in order for death and sacrifice to have a greater meaning.

Out of the fog of decay, we welcome war as the elixir to flush away uncertainty from our souls. Plunging into the darkness of fear and paranoia, a fire must be lit to guide us out of the malaise wrought by our own stupidity, or else we should suffer from unbearable obscurity. For those who dwell in this margin, violence is the purifier. For the enlightened, dreams of escaping a dark age will hopefully act as the propellant to thrust our species forward in order to avoid the four steps back.

During a pandemic of disease or of mind, the antidote to returning to our base natures is art; be it the art of language, painting, song, science, or poetry, we find our better selves in creative expression.

But what of those who are the empty shells of humanity, who survive at the edge where dreams are impossible due to the overwhelming burden of simple survival? To have aspirations that allow designs for a future is a type of agency afforded in ever greater abundance as society has progressed, but it is not guaranteed that all will participate. Not too long ago, it was nearly impossible to witness the ascent of our neighbors as success in class mobility mostly occurred outside the purview of those left behind. Today, that equation is flipped as social media allows everyone to witness everyone else. In this view of the world, those without the wherewithal or inspiration to surpass their circumstances grow angry at what they cannot manifest and instead take aim at what they can own: conspiracy, hate, violence, and general intolerance.

With owning nothing, there is nothing to lose. Bringing enfranchisement to those in that situation won’t be easy as they need to have a desire to want something more from their efforts, and up until this point in life, they’ve not felt the rewards of investing in themselves. There’s also the catch-22 when simply dealing with the everyday essentials that sustain life might be an impediment, but this intellectual malaise also afflicts the well-to-do, so poverty is not a great measure of who is affected by the stagnation of living in nothingness.

It’s time to destroy this dangerous road that forks to the right and is leading the lemmings off the cliff, threatening to pull the rest of us with them. The trick will be, how does society spark the idea that it is time to change when those who need to open their minds are certain that change will ruin them? One part of the solution is to inspire their children to see beyond the damage being done by their parents and empower them to imagine their own bright futures.

Years after I had to put my efforts into building a non-violent, creative virtual space for casual learning to rest, I still believe that careers in virtual and augmented reality are our only way forward. Just as so many of us on earth have learned to blog, vlog, podcast, Instagram, Tweet, and otherwise share our digital lives, we must turn our efforts towards creating our own virtual shopfront that will also act as a personal museum and playground. Each of us needs to cultivate our creative expression and stop relying on the media, professional sports franchises, and celebrities to entertain us. Building communities and sharing our discoveries are the next steps in our path of escaping our barbaric roots. If we fail to ignite our imaginations and inspire one another to create meaning out of nothing, we risk returning to less than nothing.

Do you ever participate in national polls? I have and still do, but which ones will remain unknown, although it’s one of the largest agencies. Who it is isn’t the point, though; that I take the 10 to 45 minutes to fill them out is what’s important and I do answer as truthfully as possible. Recently, I completed three polls that asked about couples’ relationships, how I spend my time, and the impact of COVID-19 on various aspects of my life. The first one took about 45 minutes to complete, while the questionnaire about time spent took a complete 24-hour cycle to look precisely at how I spend a random day; in my case, they chose Saturday. Finally, yesterday, I filled out a poll about getting through the pandemic.

You might infer from the title of this blog post that there’s some relevance to it here and there. This is the amount of time Caroline and I have been self-isolating. I should qualify that self-isolating for us has meant a certain amount of inability to act spontaneously in any direction we might want to go, such as traveling. During the first weeks, the pandemic, while stressful, felt as though it was offering us the chance to camp out. Over time, I certainly felt moments of anxiousness in wanting to get out and go somewhere, but the actions of pandemic deniers quickly squashed those feelings, and I was just as quickly content again to be at home. As we approach a year of reduced activity, this recent poll had me assessing where we are in the scheme of things, and I think I need to admit that I’ll miss aspects of self-isolation when it comes to an end.

We’ve learned to enjoy waking up, taking walks, cooking at home, being at home together during working hours, not needing to drive somewhere literally every day, and not being bored because we are mostly at home. The first poll about our relationship dug into happiness and questioned if we are moving apart and looking forward to splitting up after the pandemic passes. I could easily answer that we are likely happier together now than ever before if that’s even possible. On Saturday, when I detailed each segment of the day, the survey made me focus on our routine: wake, snuggle, go for a walk, make breakfast, read, do a chore, go for a walk, make lunch, play at a hobby, read, go for a walk, make dinner, do dishes, go for a walk, watch stupid stuff, play at a hobby, read, snuggle, sleep. Finally, the third poll asked, “Are you doing more exercise, less, or about the same as before the pandemic?” Then it asked, “Are you eating healthier before, now, or about the same during the pandemic?” Another question was about sleep, “Are you sleeping better, worse, or about the same during the pandemic?” To all of them, I had to answer better.

If leaving the pandemic means we have to bolt out of bed, race out on a walk so we can try to wolf down some breakfast before jumping in the car to deal with the slog of driving in traffic to go to the office with a plastic container that will be microwaved for lunch before dealing with the traffic on the way home and finally cooking at 6:00 p.m., I can honestly say that this doesn’t sound remotely appealing.

Work still starts at 8:00 a.m. Monday through Friday and doesn’t end until between 5:00 and 6:30 p.m.; such is the life of an I.T. worker. Heck, it even intrudes into weekends, but the job pays well, and it is always challenging in good ways. While it’s winter and the days are shorter, we afford ourselves the luxury of waking at 5:30, sometimes 6:00 unless it’s the weekend and we feel lazy, and then we might sleep until 7:30. We have this flexibility as we can choose to walk 1, 2, or 3 miles in the morning, where before we had to contend with traffic and being fully ready for everything else in the day as there’d be no going home to grab what was forgotten or meeting up 2 hours later for another walk because we were short on time and only walked a mile before heading to the shower.

Meals are exquisite even when they are simple, as they are made fresh. We eat less because we no longer feel compelled to eat restaurant-sized portions, trying to avoid leftovers that too often end up in the bin. When Caroline takes a break from working at midday, her lunch is being brought to her, and she doesn’t have anything to clean. Instead of reading Reddit during her break or jumping back into work, we go out for a one-mile walk around our neighborhood. During the in-between moments, we are near one another and can share an exclamation of love or run over to offer the other one a hug.

This is how we’ve been living the past 318 days, and by now, this is our cozy routine. Besides the loss of spontaneity of being able to go sit in a coffee shop and write or head out for the weekend on an adventure, life is seriously great. The thing is, we needed this complete stop of the treadmill to force the change. By now, I no longer want to return to eating out the majority of our meals. I don’t want to feel compelled to be away from home as much as possible as though somehow being home is boring. I don’t want to be so busy that walking 5 miles a day is nearly impossible, and most importantly, I always want to know that a hug is nearby.

I’m holding my breath in anticipation that it’s a new day with an expectation I’ll turn blue and pass out. Today, the United States inaugurates a new president, which also means the news cycle will change unless it doesn’t. For the very same things, a segment of the media gave the outgoing president a pass on, they’ll switch on their righteous indignation that our new U.S. leader should be so lax in his commitment to do the right thing. After four years of telling audiences that their messiah figure was walking on water, they’ll ensure that the very same segment of our population knows that the new leadership is going down the path of destruction.

In four hours from when I first started writing this, the honeymoon that never began will be over. We are no longer the “United” States; we are simply a country of other people loaded into a catapult pointed at a massif, about to be splattered into the wall of propaganda. The clown act we are performing is tiresome, and I would simply like to turn the channel away from this slapstick folly of bad actors, but the truth is that I’m not really holding my breath; I’m breathing and thus still a witness to this cruel theater of the radically absurd.

This last year, Caroline read SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome by Mary Beard to me as our audiobook in the car. With the pandemic curtailing most of our driving because she was working from home, we had to make efforts to get out and drive or bring the book into the house so she could read to me while we pretended to drive. Along the way, I would often think of the Roman Circus and its parallels with the media landscape we are trying to live with, but my sense has been that we are being thrown into the arena of mental warfare, like the Christians to the lions.

I come back to this later in the day with a new president and a return to the America I grew up in, one of diversity. I have no insight if anything will fundamentally change as I’ve grown cynical over my years of witnessing promises that have amounted to much about nothing. Celebrating a woman as vice president is great, but that it’s taken us this long is indicative of the glacial pace of our progress. The president that just left is evidence that just below the surface lies lingering hate and intolerance. I, for one, obviously do not have the patience to see my lifetime pass by with only incremental change having been gained, but then again, I grew up in the firestorm of a cultural revolution back in the 1970s.

Maybe this next bit of time on our journey will be another cultural revolution, but one that captures the masses and not just the fringe. The mainstream of America is lost in the morass of mediocrity, afraid of dramatic change. The comfort found in benign realities where banality and obedience to dogma are had is a complaisance that shelters people from needing to make changes, not systemic change alone but personal change.

I suppose I should explain my interpretation of just what change is. For me, change is the ability to go with the flow of what we don’t know as it comes to light. From Korean popstars singing about Gangnam style, stupid cat memes, immigrant neighbors, trying foods we’ve never had before, or wearing a mask until everyone is safe from needing to die prematurely due to an ugly virus. If your job disappears, you might have to retrain, but you should have been expanding your skillset the entire time, as who knows how markets evolve? Anticipate that the status quo is elusive at best and is subject to be different tomorrow than it was today.