Focusing on simplicity to tame the corona craziness

In the midst of the changing season, ospreys returning to their nests, daffodils and tulips blooming, days lengthening and temperatures rising, just as we were congratulating ourselves on the completion of the mildest winter most of us have ever experienced, and really starting to feel that sentiment expressed in Casey at the Bat: “Hope springs eternal in the human breast” – spring sports! – just in the midst of all that, in marches the coronavirus.

After decades and millions spent encouraging people to come and visit, shop and have fun in the surf and sand, enjoy everything from French fries, pizza, oysters and craft beers to steak au poivre, fish tacos, local wines – and of course the king of Sussex-grown food: chicken – now, all of a sudden we find the virus forcing us to turn that messaging on its head. We won’t even go there. Corona just says “Don’t!”  

How crazy can it get? That’s the scary question.

In the darkest hours of World War II, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt said: “We have nothing to fear, but fear itself.” Don’t let fear paralyze us.

So we take it to heart, trying to figure out how to survive, washing our hands and measuring the distance between ourselves. Not the way human beings usually act. We’re naturally gregarious creatures: crowding, hugging, joking, smiling close, laughing in happy moments with one another, crying in sorrow, sharing each others’ tears.

Those days will return. But in the meantime, corona is herding us into the deeper core of our being, beyond the ego and the id, and into those more deeply hidden realms of brain and heart and soul where the ultimate connection among all of us resides.

That’s where the joy comes from when the electricity of two smiles connects as the doorbell rings, the door opens, and there stands a neighbor with a bulky package in her arms: “Toilet paper to the rescue!” There comes the joy from helping others in the simplest ways. And when in our lives has there been so much attention focused on toilet paper? High spirituality and toilet paper! At least there’s always an opportunity for humor.

It’s not how scary can it get; how crazy can it get?

Craving simplicity

In times like this I crave simplicity, and I respect the urge to think about the three elements we need for survival: shelter, food and water, heat. Beyond that, we begin adding culture.

It’s probably been 50 years since we found ourselves in the hills of Kentucky during spring break. We walked deep into the earth in the Monmouth Caves. Impressive. Elemental shelter. Then a friend took us into some of the caves on private property that riddle that part of the world.

In southern Spain, many people still live in caves, but caves that have been highly modernized with electricity, separate rooms, running water and comfortable furnishings. Very few right angles. Maybe caves inspired the organic spaces and curves of architect Gaudi’s work.

The Kentucky caves we went into were hardly that. We found the entrance to one behind thick bushes and had to stoop to get inside. The small gash in the earth quickly opened into standing-room space inside.

With flashlights glowing, we twisted and curved our way about 75 yards into the darkness before we realized spelunking really wasn’t our thing. Too many white spiders. Not enough color.

The cave contrasted sharply with the humble country home nearby of our friend’s relative where we stopped to say hi and get a drink of water. His aunt wasn’t home, but the door was unlocked. The simplicity, cleanliness and modesty of the house stays strong in my memory. It was small – no more than about 20 feet by 20 feet of windows, doors and walls, wood and linoleum floors, kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom. Simple cloth curtains over a window above the kitchen sink sailed in a light, warm breeze.

One, only one, plainly framed picture hung on the walls. Jesus. Either in prayer or walking with lambs and children. It was one of those.

A shining metal toaster the only thing on the kitchen counter. Soft butter in a container on the plastic-clothed table. Toast! Clapboard siding painted white, a nice backdrop for her colorful flowers and patch of tender green grass. The yard neat, easily maintained. Nothing exciting. I’ll never forget.

Shelter, warmth, food and water. It was all she needed. Times like these help with appreciation of simplicity.

The book of ancient Chinese wisdom called the Tao Te Ching says our three best gifts are simplicity, patience and compassion. Focusing on those can help tame the craziness.