The Road Not Taken

Scot Free:  (Ed. Note: "Scot" is a word found in a number of languages and is traced back to the root meaning "tax."  So scot free literally means you don't have to pay for something that you don't want to pay for, anyhow.)

Sometimes we experience big, profound shifts in our lives, transformational events that fundamentally alter our reality.  It's like two continents crashing together.  I remember learning in the grief groups I attended after my parents died that an important step in the grieving process was to come to accept the concept of a "new normal."  Apparently a lot of us - often subconsciously - refuse to release the dead person, hanging on to the impossible belief that everything can go back to the way it was.  Combine this with our tendency to re-imagine our decisions and choices when we're faced with an unpleasant outcome, to try to figure out what we could have done differently to avoid the unpleasantness.  Intellectually, this is bullshit, of course.  As Jim Morrison said: "No one here gets out alive."  But, still, we wonder what might have been if we had gone to the doctor earlier or taken a left turn instead of a right turn.

It doesn't work that way.  It's all god's: your loved ones, your friends, your job and cars and house, your money, you for chrissake.  If god wants it god is going to take it.  A lot of the things that happen were destined to happen no matter how many buttons you pushed and how many levers you pulled.  That's life.  That's how life works.  Do any of us melt with gratitude at the end of the day because we took the highway instead of the byway because the later route would have led to certain death in a fiery crash?  Well, I do, of course, but you can aim higher than my emotional reaction to things.

I ponder this as I'm processing through the societal changes caused by CoVid 19.  I found myself sketching out some scenarios as to when things were going to "get back to normal," whatever the fuck that means.  Like what I do would be considered "normal."   I project 3, 6, and 12 months into the future and try to visualize how life would appear, with the goal, of course, of getting back to the way things were because in my blessed life getting back to the way things were is a pretty sweet place.

Perhaps some things are going to be irrevocably altered.  I'd like to get back to the way some things were when I was 20, too.  It would be nice to put on a jock strap and running shoes and take a nice hour run this morning, too, instead of laboring around the neighborhood on a slowish walk.  My back and knees and hips and ankles might have something to say after a run.  I'm in good enough shape I could pull it off but I might not be able to walk tomorrow.

I'm now imagining certain aspects of my life as having a different tint and hue and tone.  If there are things that I want to do that I will not be able to do as we move on I'll be OK.  I'll even come to accept it even though right now I want to bulldoze through any obstacles that are standing in the way of me getting what I want.

I also like to populate the extreme ends of the spectrum with scenarios.  On one end we quickly find an effective vaccine and develop a robust herd immunity and life begins to look like it did a few months ago.  On the other end the virus proves almost unkillable and mutates so often and so effectively that being in public is going to remain potentially hazardous for an extended period of time.  

So . . . two unlikely scenarios.  But where do we end up and when do we end up there?