When I visit big cities, the thing that strikes me the most is the loss of social connection—eye-contact; the
quick nod between pedestrians as their shoulders by-pass; the pause to affirm
the child with a toothless smile.
Impersonalization settles on busy cities like an invisible net, suppressing
human warmth and spontaneity. It breeds guardedness, suspicion, and fear.
I
really hate that aspect of the big city experience—I’m a people person. I like to make eye-contact, spread the
smiles, and comment on what I see. Yet,
behind the pandemic mask here in
rural Idaho, I find myself acting in public like a city dweller. My awareness of others is reduced to distancing
and protocol. The niceties don’t surface
until I reach the checkout stand, and even that is awkward with steamed up
glasses and muffled directions about scanning the card.
It’s disheartening to
not SEE other individuals in public, to not interact with people that surely are
familiar. I return from my infrequent
public outings with an unsettled feeling that hovers just below the level of
awareness.
The sacrifice for safety is not a big deal;
it’s temporary; there are many blessings to be counted in spite of it. And yet if ignored, the subtle strain could
morph into discouragement or depression. I don't have a name for it yet, but just acknowledging it takes away its
power.
I pray this is not the
new norm. That superficial interaction I took for
granted before--it creates community and I miss
it.
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