January 17, 2022

The gift of languishing, pandemic time

In 2021, the most read article in The New York Times was written by psychologist and author Adam Grant. It was called, “There’s a Name for the Blah You’re Feeling: It’s Called Languishing.”

You might have read that article when it was shared and reshared in April 2021. To think of it now is to see that “languishing” still seems descriptive of our liminal, pandemic world. We remain wearied and worn out— “exhausted,” as one friend said recently.

I, for one, have tried to bully my way back to pre-pandemic rhythms. (When all else fails, try harder, right?) But even I find that I am more easily tired by what once felt easy. Inviting someone for dinner. Showing up for small group. Making a long overdue phone call. Drafting an agenda for a volunteer meeting. My husband, Ryan, has registered this constant fatigue with the employees of his company. It’s been almost two years since they left the office, and there’s no date for any expected return.

For those of us in parts of the world that have returned to new pandemic restrictions, thanks to Omicron, it seems only normal that we should continue to suffer this feeling of “languishing.” (Toronto has abided the longest pandemic lockdowns in North America, and WE ARE FEELING IT.) But even for the rest of us, I’m betting that “languishing” still feels characteristic of our experience of time today.

Can we practice joy in this midst of languishing? I think so.

Harmut Rosa is a German social theorist whose work I’ve encountered in researching my next book, In Good Time. A key term in his work is “resonance,” and I think it captures what’s involved in the practice of joy.

Resonance is a word to describe “time-full” encounters with the “other.” This includes the immanent joys of human relationships: our friends, our families, our neighbors. This also includes transcendent joys: God, art, nature. The point is that joy is something beyond the self.

I will not pretend to be an expert on Rosa’s work, but it does seem clear that resonance cannot be a digitally mediated experience. You can’t substitute a walk in your own neighborhood ravine with watching a live cam of an eagle’s nest. You can’t substitute a haunt through a museum’s exhibits with a virtual tour.

Your digital life is not a resonant one.

This is part of pandemic languishing, I think. We’ve been forced into digital alternatives for resonant, real life, and while this has been an important part of our collective bargaining for public health, I do think we are suffering the costs.

I wonder if our question now isn’t so much, “How quickly can I return to normal life?” Instead, I wonder if we should ask, “How can I look to experience resonance, even in these pandemic conditions?” Reading a recent edition to a cooking newsletter I subscribe to, I was struck by the author’s suggestion that we pick up the phone to call someone this week. That’s not resonance exactly as Rosa describes, but it’s at least the sound of a voice.

This is just your small reminder to practice joy this week in small and ordinary encounters with the “other.” And as it’s the third week of the month, when I usually talk about books, I’ll say that good books count.

In the last couple of days, I’ve just started Maggie O’ Farrell’s memoir, I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death.The writing is harrowing—and never overwrought. O’Farrell understands how to lead her readers into an emotional experience without manipulation or brute force. Then, when she decides to widen her gaze beyond the experience, her exposition is brief and devastating. “We are, all of us, wandering about in a state of oblivion, borrowing our time, seizing our days, escaping our fates, slipping through loopholes, unaware of when the axe may fall.”

As the snow falls like ticker tape this morning, I remember that all time—even languishing, pandemic time—is a gift.

Jen

P.S. Let me also highlight two books I’ve recently received in the mail from authors I appreciate: Wendy Alsup’s, I Forgive You, and Aubrey Sampson’s, Known.

I Forgive You is an exploration of the difficult and important process of forgiveness against the backdrop of the biblical story of Joseph. Here is Jen Wilkin’s endorsement:

“The healing power of forgiveness is well-attested, but rarely is it presented to us framed so aptly in the Scriptures. Wendy Alsup gives us more than a pat proverb or a hurried how-to. She retells at length an ancient forgiveness story both beautiful and true, interweaving it with her own story of hurt and healing. She invites us to examine our own capacity to fight to forgive by the power of the Spirit of grace that lives within us. As I read, I contemplated with fresh resolve those to whom I could grant forgiveness, and those whose forgiveness I should seek.”

Known is an exploration of the names God has given to his children that help us understand our identity and life into our calling to image him in the world. Christine Caine has written the foreword, and she says of this book, “Prepare to discover the magnificent truth of who you really are. Prepare to discover what God really thinks about you.”