Covid and Collapse

In his seminal book Manhood, Steve Biddulph suggests most men walk this earth in a kind of ‘half life’ —  a kind of partially blind, unfulfilled, un-actualised life. Perhaps most of us, regardless of gender, are partially blind, only partially alive. Both Michael Leunig and Tyler Durden in Fight Club talk about a ‘near life experience’, when we touch a more fulfilled state. Perhaps being fully alive is a rarity?

Within our unfulfilled lives, it strikes me that total collapse can follow so closely on our heels. We march (or plod) on. We create. We work. We laugh. But just underneath, just around the corner, along with a ‘near life experience’, total collapse can come.

Sometimes it’s just the little things. A few years ago, I was rushing here and there with two little kids in the back seat, and was pulled over for a random breath test and rego check. They found my car rego was a week overdue, and fined me $800. As I stood there pleading with the man in the uniform to show some mercy, with two anxious and scared kids in the back, the first thought I had was to punch him in the face. Imagine that.

Imagine that.

As Paul Kelly sings in If I Could Start Today Again, just one single moment can change your life. One second in one minute in one hour. Our lives can pivot on that one point. Irrevocably. There’s no turning back time. Our very core shifts. Who we are. Who we were. What we will become.

It may not be as dramatic as punching a policeman. I remember when I had two small children I could barely get them out of home some mornings. I remember once I was about to leave, finally ready after ticking all the boxes that you have to tick as a parent of one, let alone two children. Just as we were heading out the door I smelt a familiar smell. Sure enough, my little one had pooed her nappy again. Late for work, late for school, I sat back on the couch. I think I cried. I felt that I just couldn’t move, that I just couldn’t go on. All it took was one poo. One little moment of so many before.

What takes us to this edge? People are often astounded by the bad things that others do. Suicides, murders, cruelty, violence. The collapse. We say things like ‘he seemed like such a sweet man’ or ‘I had no idea she was so on the edge’, or even ‘how could you say that to me — I thought you loved me?’. But perhaps collapse is close for many of us? Perhaps the edge of madness, despair, isolation, cruelty, is only a step away? Perhaps we all need to battle this regularly?

In Corona times it seems we’re a little closer to these edges. The little cracks and shadows are highlighted; brought into sharp focus. We can’t hide from things so well. We aren’t able to distract ourselves. It may be something so small, so insignificant: spilling your morning coffee; one word from someone, even a stranger; noticing your child in her dressing gown at ten minutes to nine; a difficult phone call; a car problem; an aching back. One little thing on top of another little thing. And all of a sudden we can’t find solid ground.

Our routines and rhythms are weaker. We’re fractious, sporadic, moody. We’re bored, restless, meditative, anxious. We try one thing and it doesn’t work; try another and it’s not the same as it was. Collapse is closer on our heels.

We force ourselves into other rhythms. We create other islands to cling to. We look for solid ground. Sometimes it’s there: in the presence of a loved one, some familiar pattern or routine which might bring us solidity. We breath. Then dive in again. We adjust our atoms. We look inwards. We breathe. We brace ourselves.

At last the sunshine will come. At last Corona will fade. But how do we find a more secure base for ourselves? Will we emerge from this time, eyes blinking, better or worse or just the same? Will our rhythms and patterns re-form? Can we notice things differently? Can we feel things more? Can we stay solid and find our complete selves? Can we connect better with the world around us? The humans, creatures, microbes that move around and within us? The plants, rocks, fungi and Earth? Will we move closer to the edge of collapse, or step away?

Can we — at last — experience more ‘near life’?