What the heck is “new normal” supposed to mean anyway?

I have been contemplating the notion of the “new normal” a fair bit lately, reflecting on my own journey during these difficult times. Back in March when things suddenly got real and the world turned upside down, everything was new, unexpected, and quite turbulent. You remember…when we were all frantically trying to find extra supplies of toilet paper? It seemed like every time I looked at my news feed or work email there was new guidance or something significant that had changed.  

After a few weeks, things settled down for those of us who were privileged enough to still have jobs and our health. There was a growing rhetoric about the “new normal” – embodying the notion that things had forever changed and so we must all forge ahead to create the new way of being.

I am not sure I buy into the notion that things will be forever changed or that a long-lived “new normal” will emerge. 

Society wields an incredible amount of inertia to return to the status quo after a disruption. Just look at the people in the U.S. flocking to crowded bars, restaurants and beaches. The drive to return to “normal” is incredibly strong and can easily overpower common sense.

For a while I was taking solace in the fact that there was a similar pandemic in 1968 that everyone seems to have forgotten about that killed 1 million people worldwide, including 100,000 here in the U.S. Things weren’t forever changed following that outbreak (which is no doubt naïve of me to say), and most folks don’t even remember it.

Alas, it is clear we are on a much more disastrous trajectory — particularly here in the U.S. — than the 1968 pandemic. So, now I am questioning my earlier notion that things will likely get back to “normal” in a year or so. 

Since this all started, I’ve spent a bit of time trying to maintain a sense of normalcy – engaging in familiar activities, although sometimes with some modifications. I think these things are/were important because they helped me feel more grounded in the familiar. There is comfort in that.

At the same time, I think my desire to re-create and/or hold on to some of my “old normal” ends up creating even more of a sense of loss. For example, doing Glenn’s fun run with friends was bittersweet. It was great to see them again (if only to deliver t-shirts), but it was a one-time thing which meant I had to re-mourn the loss of the camaraderie of our regular Saturday runs when we went our separate ways again.

I have also spent a fair bit of time trying to dream up new things to experience, in hopes that some of those things might stick and help me create my “new normal” going forward. For example, we created a new practice of picking a restaurant within a 3-mile radius and then on Saturdays we’d go for an evening walk to that restaurant to get take out food to bring home. It was a great way to get some exercise, see new neighborhoods and support local businesses.

I have enjoyed this part of the journey. It does not bring up the emotions of loss (i.e., what I used to have/do is now gone), as the experiences are new and hold the promise of unexpected things to come. For example, the camper van trip has gotten Glenn and I excited about the notion of maybe investing in one ourselves and setting off to see many parts of the U.S. (especially since we can’t travel internationally for a while because so many countries are — rightfully so — barring Americans from entering their borders because we are doing such a piss-poor job of managing the pandemic here).  

In the end, I am guessing our societal “new normal” and my personal “new normal” might end up being a combination of both spheres. Some old things (that might have slight modifications) that are worth carrying forward…and some new things that I had never imagined before.

I would be remiss to skip over the fact that the “old normal” was terribly broken.

By all measures, the “old normal” was not working for significant portions of our community. The “old normal” was (and remains) a reality based on oppression, prejudice, and extraction of both labor and natural resources. The “old normal” was (and remains) a system intentionally designed to perpetually benefit the elite and privileged, most especially folks like myself (white, educated, middle/upper-income). 

The recent protests demanding racial justice, both here in the U.S. and around the world, serve to illuminate the need to use this moment of disruption to forge a new way forward. Instead of a “new normal” we need a “new paradigm” that fundamentally restructures the way our society operates to deliver equity, justice, and liberation for all in our community, not just some of us. 

We are experiencing the convergence of several crises – a global pandemic, rampant unemployment, an economic recession, climate change on the brink of no return, and a reckoning with centuries of racism.

In the past several weeks I have been trying to revel in the discomfort and distress of the current moment. 

Feeling unsettled, destabilized, alone and vulnerable can help me empathize with those for whom that has always been their reality. Low-wage workers, un-housed people, single mothers, unemployed, underemployed, day laborers, Black and Indigenous people, people of color, and LGBTQA+ individuals have often experienced a “normal” where on a daily basis — for as long as they can remember — they have felt unsettled, destabilized, alone and vulnerable at a scale I can not even begin to imagine.

The incredible power of these difficult and tragic times is that it can help strip away some of the safety and comfort that comes with privilege, and create an opening for greater empathy and a deeper sense of collective humanity.

If we (and by “we” I primarily mean white and privileged people such as myself) can actively seek to cultivate and hold tight to that empathy, we can forge a “new normal” that works for everyone and is something that we can all be proud of.

That is my hope, and it is something I am deeply committed to working to advance in the months and years to come – through my voice, my time and my money. I hope you’ll join me!

PICTURE TIME!

No blog post from me would be complete without a bunch of pictures, so below you’ll find some photos from our recent camper van trip to the Painted Hills and John Day Fossil Beds area of Oregon (U.S.).

Rented Camper Van…

We rented a camper van through GoCamp, which is an awesome woman-owned business (and I know the owner, which I didn’t realize until I started putting this blog post together!). Folks with private camper vans let other folks rent them – sort of like the Air B&B of camper vans. It’s a great way to make money off of a recreational vehicle that might otherwise be sitting in your driveway over the weekend. We found this to be a fun way to travel and definitely caught the “van life” bug.

Camp Site…

Because things were in different states of re-opening due to COVID-19, we were looking to find a place to camp in the van that we knew would be: a) open, but b) not crowded with other people. I got a recommendation to check out a site through Hipcamp, which is where you pay to camp on private land. We ended up at an amazing location – an 80-acre ranch that included a mountain-top camp site with 360-degree panoramic views.

Painted Hills and John Day Fossil Beds, Oregon (U.S.)