As some of you may know, I ended up in New Zealand as Covid-19 hit.

And there I am still.

Luckily for me, New Zealand locked down early, closed the borders, and mostly behaved.

Conclusion: today is the 23rd day with no new cases.

Who knows if this dodgy virus will get back in? But for the moment, life is back to some kind of “normal”.

“Back to normal” means cars, concerts, stadium sports, domestic flights, and… back to the office, yippee!

But is this really what we want to get back to?

Back to normal is roads filled with cars, and noise.

Back to normal is pretty sunsets. Because, air pollution has returned.

So are we ready for a brave new world?

Ummmmmm…

At the most, maybe little positive changes on the edges?

I just don’t think rich Capitalist countries—or perhaps any countries—are structured in a way that lets meaningful change stick its head through the door. The machine is simply waiting to drag us all in to its cogs again.

Money! Jobs! Holidays! SUV!

Slow, occasional change, is possible though.

It might be the best we can hope for.

Here’s a great article talking about what New Zealand temporarily “became” during lockdown. Here are some juicy titbits.

On streets:

“It's been such a delight to see the streets reclaimed by people, safe from the tonnes of steel usually barrelling along them. I've seen parents walking and children riding down the middle of streets in complete safety, stopping for long, two-metres-removed chats with neighbours and friends. No cars in sight.
Again that begs a question: why is it so novel for people to be the dominant user of our roads? We've designed our suburbs to give primacy to the 'needs' of cars. That doesn't work for people. For us.”

It’s oh, so still:

“It's oh so quiet. Just as a fish isn't familiar with the concept of water, we'd be forgiven for not noticing the continual noise that forms the backdrop to our days. Then it all stopped. No traffic on the roads or in the air, no rushing about. Back to the old modes of transport – walking, cycling, running, skating. And something else – a peace, a tranquility that, like dark skies, seems so natural and beneficial. Birds chirping. Wind puffing. Surf booming in the distance.”
“I wasn't expecting the quiet to have such a profound effect on me. Since it did, I've been wondering how to keep that alive…” [as life goes back to “normal”]

Walking up the middle of suburban Auckland streets at night without even the sound of a single car was pretty trippy.

So where “could” we go from here?

“But now, so soon, it seems we're emerging from this strange and passing time. That leaves us with a simple choice: we could file these silver linings away as merely pleasant surprises that were fleetingly, accidentally part of our lives. We could go back to how things were, and tell our kids about them when they're grown.
“That would leave an obvious question unanswered: if the experience was so profound, why didn't anything more come of it?
“Or alternatively, we could take a moment – this moment – to press pause. We could acknowledge the power of these silver linings to gratify us and bring deeper meaning to our days – and consequently our lives. We could begin to take steps to embed them into our lives, or richer still, into our society.
“Just to be clear, that won't happen on an individual level. It's a collective opportunity, not a personal burden. You can't control the noise levels in my suburb, just like you can't walk safely down the middle of the road like you could a few weeks ago.”

That’s where the dreaming comes in.

But it’s nice to dream, right?

One final thought:

“Did you know that modern humans – the most materially rich of any moment in history – work harder than medieval peasants?”

Remember all this as you all head back to the daily slog.

Is there a better way to live, waiting to be discovered, out there?

Keep an eye open.

[Cover: The Peasant Wedding, by Flemish painter Pieter Brueghel the Elder, 1567 or 1568]