From Push to Pull: how to manage our time in disquieting times.

You have no doubt heard that this time in the history of the world is unprecedented, which pretty much means we've never seen anything like it before. I could argue that may not be exactly true, but I do believe there is an element of this that is truly unprecedented for each of us as individuals. And that is this:  All the pull is gone. Pull as in the implicit and explicit pulling of others, of peers, friends and society at large, pulling us to do more, look better, be more places, do more things, return more emails, wear nicer clothes, live in bigger houses. In a "normal" world, pull is the insidious force that demands our attention, causes us to set the alarm for 4:45 am every day of every week, that subtly but relentlessly informs and even dictates most of our actions and decisions. Pull is everything.  Pull is exhausting. And for the time being, pull is gone. 

So what happens when there is no pull in our lives? Only push? When there is nothing in front of us but the stark purity of the question "What do I do now?"  When our time is literally our time, without the sirens' many songs, without the infinite seductions, without the pressure and our seemingly unquenchable thirst to meet the expectations of others? When what we experience and do is a function of the push decisions we, and we alone, make? In theory, we should be relieved, but we are not. When the omnipresence of pull recedes to be replaced by push we feel a quiet desperation emerge in ourselves and our children. The simple question of what do I or they do now becomes an unsettling proposition. The blank canvas we and they face is daunting, suggesting we have the ability to create upon it when our inner voice tells us just the opposite. Being alone with our thoughts becomes tantamount to watching that movie "The Quiet Place". Silence is not golden, it is terrifying. Because what if we are not capable of completing the canvas, not finding a path out of that place? What if the conversation with ourselves either never ends or is a dead end. What if, without the pull, without the seeming validation of others and the constant noise in our lives, we realize that we are nothing?

But wait. What if we actually realize the opposite? Is it not possible that being alone with our thoughts could result in getting to know ourselves? That being forced to paint our canvas, to fill in the blanks, will result in the creation of something that is a true manifestation of who we actually are and the gifts we carry? Is it not possible that our children, when required to occupy themselves with themselves, will emerge stronger for it?  I think yes.  And I think that is what makes these unprecedented times a form of opportunity, the chance to change the context of our lives (and theirs) from pull to push. The question then becomes how? 

Getting from pull to push is hard; there will be no flicking of a switch. It necessitates a journey that likely follows Kubler-Ross's Seven Stages of Grief, with an eighth and final stage recently added by one of her collaborators: Meaning.  For pull to be replaced by push as our centering force we have to work through feelings of shock, pain, anger and even loneliness, and we have to learn (and teach our kids) that quietude is our friend and the sound of nothing is an opportunity for profound growth and in that, the bridge to meaning and more meaningful lives. The first step is simply the acceptance that this, an unprecedented time, may be a once in a lifetime opportunity.