Eigengrau

A few weeks ago, Grey and I found ourselves sitting in the dark. The blackout came suddenly, leaving every house that didn't have solar panels in darkness for a couple of hours. Sitting in the dark triggered the memory of the first blackout I remembered, leading to a conversation with Grey.

It happened when I was a child living in a small southern-Minnesota town. I don't know what triggered the blackout (I suspect a storm) or how long it lasted. What I do remember was that it was so dark that the window looked blindingly gray. It was seeing the gray that caused me to panic, feeling disoriented and desperately searching for any point of light to make sense of what I was seeing. 

As Grey and I waited for the power to return, we debated this memory. "Dark is dark," he argued. The absence of light is black. And yet, once the power returned, we both learned that the brain is a funny thing, where it isn't black that most people see in perfect darkness, but a dark gray color that is the result of visual signals for the optic nerve. Humans actually need a bit of light in order to see darkness.

I've been thinking about eigengrau in relation to how most people have been weathering the COVID pandemic. Pandemic fatigue is very real, with many unaware of the extent they are suffering from it. But another level has been watching how so many around me struggle with parsing information (and misinformation) coming at them throughout this crisis. As a scientist, this parsing, assessing, challenging and constant re-evaluation is something my training prepared me for. I'm used to questioning everything that comes my way, particularly when the information is coming from trusted sources as I'm well aware of my echo chamber. And yet, this past year has reminded me that most people don't have this skillset, leaving them disoriented when trying to figure out how to navigate our world. 

The results have been the politicization of science, with people overly confident to effectively assess risk and harm. Relationships have been fractured, lies buried in half-truths have spread like wildfire, and distrust has grown. It's widespread and across educational classes. And it's been surreal to watch as I've also had my eyes on the data coming out about SARS-CoV-2 and how it weaponizes people's immune systems. Seeing the data on how exactly people are dying is sobering.

"Paradoxically, people need light to see darkness." This one statement has haunted me since I first read it and I'm beginning to understand the wisdom in this. Last year, our world was plunged into darkness. And those that were tasked with leading us out proved how incapable they were to do so. Those that have been the voices to advise these leaders either have been ignored, silenced, or have lied. All of it leading to disorientation and panic, combined with chronic fatigue. What is clear is that we need someone to show us the light. And we need that individual or groups of individuals to do so while pointing out the darkness.

Make no mistake: COVID-19 is real. I don't care if you have gotten the virus and came out okay, because others are dying or are very much at risk. Plus we don't know what the long-term effects of infection are (I suspect we will see a spike in infertility globally, as our immune systems are directly linked). But equally dangerous is this being plunged into darkness without any pinpoints of hope for finding one's way out. After living a year in lockdown and a pseudo-Zombieland, it's hard to ignore the impact.

#MicroblogMondays: For the pretty lady

 Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

I'm not good at goodbyes. Especially the goodbyes that I know will leave me heartbroken. And yet this one deserves an extra special one. In 3 short months, she taught me so much.

The beginning of this story starts on a cold (for California) December night. Grey was driving home and had just turned into our street when a cat walked out into the middle of the road. Slowing, he figured she would finish crossing. Instead, she sat down in the middle of the road in front of the car, staring him down. Moments later, he would walk up to a neighbors house, assuming that she belonged with them, asking if they were missing her. Later, he would walk through the door to tell me the story about how he unintentionally homed a stray cat with strangers. 

And with that, Scruffy entered our lives.

Over the next couple of weeks, the neighbors and I began piecing together Scruffy's history. She came off the streets extremely thin, leaving us worried she was recently homeless. What we learned following a diagnosis of hyperthyroidism was that she had been living on the streets for 11+ years, having been abandoned with her siblings. While they quickly found homes through neighbors capturing them and adopting them, she spent her years roaming the neighborhood, making friends with a select few who would feed her, and finding shelter where she could. That wisdom came through with each interaction, with her quickly assessing people and deciding whether she would come to say hello too. And though the neighborhood rallied around her, she quickly picked her people, allowing me, Grey, Maddie, and Teddy into her circle.

The pandemic has been hard for many reasons, but one of the hardest is revealing people's true selves. It has been hard to read about all the selfishness and pettiness that people have been inflicting on one another during a time when community is most needed (even though we can't physically be together). Worse still has been watching those in positions of leadership fail to model love, compassion, and sacrifice needed to weather this virus. Scruffy coming into our lives did what so many leading failed to do. This small, elderly lady reminded us all of the importance of loving one another, even though we didn't know one another well, and why we need to work together. Compromise and empathy were essential for weathering this relationship over the past few months, as it was not only her health that was on the line. Yet those purrs, headbutts, and snuggles were worth it. The evening visits resulted in new relationships being forged. And above all, there was love.

This pretty lady died this morning on a beautiful warm California spring day. It was a good death and her soul left this world so peacefully. Though there are no regrets and am forever thankful that this soul came into our lives at the end of hers, my heart hurts so much today. I'm missing the scruffy one.