One of the collateral benefits of this crisis has been how it has shrunk our worlds. As I write this post, it is now six weeks since I have ridden in any kind of motorized transportation. If you take away the internet, my life suddenly resembles that of an 18th century villager more than a 21st century business traveler. Nothing seems less relevant right now than my frequent flier status.
Similarly, this crisis has revealed the silliness of some of what consumed us before. Does it really matter how many views or likes one of our posts gets (which isn’t many for me, by the way) when thousands of people are dying and hundreds of thousands are filing for unemployment each day?
Our deep need to be seen and noticed and acclaimed is based on a lie – that we don’t matter if we aren’t seen. It’s time to throw away that happiness crutch. This crisis gives us the chance to be super local and to practice contentment with being small. That means we can look around, see who is right in front of us, serve them, and not give a second thought to who notices.
We probably won’t change the whole world this way. But we just might change our tiny piece of the world. And we’ll certainly experience more joy than chasing likes.
