News : The Pandemic Vortex of 2020, or How Time Ceases to Exist ⏳

Monday, October 26, 2020

The Pandemic Vortex of 2020, or How Time Ceases to Exist ⏳

"Time doesn't seem to pass here: it just is." ―J.R.R. Tolkien

Hey Reader,

Do you know what a vortex is? Here's one definition I found online: "a whirling mass of water, especially one in which a force of suction operates as a whirlpool."

Here's another definition: the year known as 2020. I'm still trying to get my head around it, and maybe you feel the same way.

You might be familiar with the idea of being in a flow state. When you're in flow, everything is easy, even when it's hard. What I mean is that in flow, you truly feel purposeful even in the midst of difficult situations.

I'm not sure there's a word for the opposite of flow—but whatever it is, many of us are in that state of being these days. Pandemic life can be, well, depressing.

It's not like everything is terrible. In a weird way, that would be easier. Instead, it's as though time has been suspended. It's been stopped since mid-March, or maybe since May or June when we all realized Oh, this isn't going to be a short-term thing.

At first the novel coronavirus made for a novel shared experience, but soon it became more of the same.

Do you remember canceling your summer plans in the spring? (Or for my readers in the Southern Hemisphere, canceling your winter plans in the autumn?) Funny how long ago that seems. Now we're rethinking plans well into next year, a situation that almost no one predicted when all of this started.

In some ways I now have more time than ever. But here's where the vortex comes in: I don't know where it goes! I really don't ... and I'm someone who cares a lot about how I spend my time.

What We've Learned

I thought that we'd all come out of this phase having learned Chinese or Farsi, with completed book manuscripts in hand. We'd all be in perfect physical fitness from those virtual yoga classes. It wouldn't really be a "lost year."

But instead, although I have fewer meetings and far less travel than ever before, I sometimes end the day without having much to show for it. I'm not entirely sure why this is the case, because even with the fewer meetings and less travel, much of my routine and workflow hasn't changed much.

It's that something else has changed—something less tangible or easily identifiable. Or maybe several things at once have changed, throwing off the equilibrium of modern life.

Even our email greetings and sign-offs have evolved. "How are you holding up?" is the new "How are you?" And instead of "Hope you're doing well," now we say "Hope you're doing as well as possible."

These feelings take place amidst a global backdrop of anxiety about the U.S. election. Many of us remain in a holding pattern, holding our breath until the results are announced. And here's the honest truth about that: even though I hope with all my heart that we can slay the dragon, I'm pretty sure there will be more and more civil unrest no matter what happens. It's hard to put cats back in bags.

On that note, I encourage you to watch the new Borat film—it's a genuine work of art that somehow manages to elevate social protest to another level.

Between the heightened anxiety and the pandemic that never ends, it seems we're in for a long winter.

So I'll go back to where I started in March, and say that we have to do whatever we can to use the time well. Take care of yourself and check on someone who might be feeling down. If you're in the U.S., make a plan to vote if you haven't done so already.

Maybe we really can learn Chinese and finish that book manuscript. One way or another, 2021 will be here before we know it.

Yours in the revolution,

Chris Guillebeau

P.S. One practical tip: reflecting on your day and asking "Did today matter?" every evening can help you make small changes in how you spend your time.

Days that matter are different from "good" or "bad" days—and the more days you have that matter, the better you will feel.

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