The Art of Pondering

     I once had a writing professor who upon hearing any story about some challenge one of her students was facing would get this wild look in her eye and exclaim,"writing material!" This particular professor would also take swigs from a large bottle that we were all convinced was champagne, until someone finally confronted her about it and we learned that it was mineral water. She was one of those teachers who had a genuine passion for the subject she taught, and I really felt that I thrived in her classroom. I've thought about her over the past few weeks, as Covid-19 has transitioned from something that was barely on my radar into something that has affected several aspects of my life and brought my regular routine to a screeching halt. She would surely see this situation as excellent writing material.
     Every time I try to write anything about this surreal experience we are all going through, my mind goes back to a picture I took when I was visiting my family in August, when I took exactly one week of vacation after finishing two years at an incredibly demanding job before jumping right into the next one. We went to Nags Head for a day, and stopped at Jeanette's Pier right as the sun was setting. At some point each of us went off on our own for a few minutes, and when I turned around from whatever I was doing, I saw a sight that brought comfort to my weary heart. My father and brother in a stance I've seen both of them in from time to time for as long as I can remember; hands in their pockets, staring off into the distance. Sometimes the object of their attention is a truck or a boat, sometimes it's just whatever scenery happens to be in front of them at the moment. I've never asked them what they are thinking about during these moments, because it doesn't really matter and I don't want to interrupt them. I just know that it brings me a sense of peace and a bit of pride to know that I grew up around men who are comfortable being alone with their thoughts, and I can't help but believe that the world would be a bit better if more of us were.
     I've always thought of this habit of theirs as pondering, and it's something that I hope to do more of while my regular routine is interrupted. Whenever I set out to write, I always try to connect a deeper meaning to my life experiences, to uncover some profound wisdom that people will find interesting. But maybe we don't have to uncover a deep spiritual meaning to all of this. Maybe we don't have to find three new hobbies or dive into full Marie Kondo mode while we have extra time at home. We certainly do not need to engage in spirited debates online about whose fault this is, because some things are no ones fault, and that conversation does nothing to improve what is happening.
 Sure, it's good to be productive and to not let our minds spiral into despair. But I also believe that in between our periods of productivity, this is a good time to practice the art of pondering. To find a window to look out of, or a large body of water or field if one is accessible while exercising social distancing, and just stand still for a few moments. Be alone with whatever thoughts you have, and acknowledge them without analyzing them. Just be still, and see what comes to you. You've got nothing but time, and you're not missing anything by taking a few moments to just exist.
     Right now, no one can really say when all of this will end. It is an uncertain time, and like everyone else I have plenty of worries about what the next few months of my life are going to look like. I worry for people who are sick or have sick loved ones, and for those who put themselves at risk every day for the benefit of the rest of us. While I recognize the seriousness of this pandemic and hope that it goes away sooner than later, I'm trying to remember that all that has really changed in my life is the illusion that I was ever in control of anything. And while I was at first slightly terrified by that revelation, I am gradually becoming relieved by it. It's nice to stop and realize that the world is so much bigger than me. Maybe that's what those two pondering men have understood all along.