I get it. I’ve spent years studying trauma, and in recent years Porges’ polyvagal theory has pulled much thinking together. I understand that when we are caught in the dorsal vagal system, that ancient life-preserving mechanism that allows us to become almost invisible, to freeze, or play dead, we cannot also be in the ventral vagal system. That’s the part we use to scan faces, to separate friends from foes, to feel connection. I know that the sympathetic nervous system enables us to mobilize ready to fight or flee in response to fear. So, I understand why people look away these days, few smiles, little real connection, and why I surprise myself with my moments of anger. Being out in the world doesn’t feel too safe for many of us. Even if some of the fears may be a little irrational, or at least somewhat exaggerated, they are there shaping vagal responses. No arguing with that survival mechanism. In myself I feel the anxiety and the lack of connection, note it.

Then I pull up on the three dots marked on the pavement at the stop lights on Lakeshore Boulevard where it crosses with Colbourne Lodge Drive. Those dots and the large sign “Cyclists stop here” tell me what I must do. I stop exactly on the spot that will activate the sensor to get me a light to cross the highway. Even so, when the little illuminated bicycles light up green, just for me, I’m startled at how my nervous system receives this mechanical attention. My body settles, feels the difference. I have been seen and taken account of, even if only by a sensor. No human being saw me, switched that light just for me, for exactly long enough for me to cross those broad eight lanes. I’m giddy with delight and surprised by the strength of my reaction

When I tell the tale, a friend points out that humans did design the system, set it up to register a cyclist’s presence. True, that may well be part of the feeling. but I don’t think that’s the key, I believe it’s simply the power of feeling “seen,” having a need met, that settles me, eases something deep down.

This special crossing is less vital in these times, for I could probably dodge the few cars, find my moment to cross with ease. Yet it is simultaneously more important when people avoid my eye, to be acknowledged, even if only by a mechanized sensor. My nervous system reacts, is soothed and settled, warmed as if a smiling person had stopped the traffic and ushered me across the road in a glorious grand gesture of attention, sweeping cloak, deep bow and all.

I repeat the move most mornings now to feel its power again, marvel at the effect. It’s my new route home that avoids the narrow bridge, for that agitates my nervous system too much now. I’m enjoying this tiny pleasure each morning instead.

I am fascinated by the heightened reality of these times and what they are helping me to see. I’m hoping this Interruption of normal, this intense time, may help others too to learn more about what makes the nervous system settle as is needed to make learning possible for them, and for their students or others they may help to learn.

Perhaps we are like fish who have not seen the water we swim in, but in these vivid times when everything is changed, we might see our “water” sharply in all its dimension, its new colours and textures.

I wonder what new things you are noticing? Have there been surprises for you too?

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Many educational programs have stopped their usual practices and gone virtual. I have heard people say that learning has been interrupted, but I don’t believe it. Normal has been interrupted. I am fascinated by the idea that interruption might be a strange gift for many of us. I’ve learned so many things that I have been thinking of these #covidtimes as #learningtime and using these hashtags on social media in hopes I can spark new conversations.

It is likely only a gift for those of us not sick, not at full stretch tending the sick, and not so beleaguered by life that there is no possible space for reflection. But all of us have been abruptly kicked out of normal life and perhaps that allows us to see “normal” a little more clearly.

This time allows many of us an opportunity to notice things we didn’t see before, to carry out some personal research. One teacher I worked with years ago got under the table with a kindergarten kid who didn’t want to come out. Once there she learned how safe it felt under the table and understood why cajoling and insisting the student move only made their need to stay hidden more intense. Now that so much has changed, many of us can look from a new angle, notice new things. Perhaps we will see our own relationship with fear and anxiety, or with time and tasks, with greater clarity.

We might notice what is truly life-giving, what really matters for us. For in this not-normal time the stakes are higher. There is danger and dread, and colours are heightened. I notice my emotions. For instance, some days it takes only a few small things going awry for the message “Internet unstable” to make tears well. Some people follow every news item, looking, perhaps, for explanations or some semblance of control, others avoid and cocoon. Whatever our route, if we are free to move a step beyond survival mode, we can observe the choices we make in this strange time, learning about ourselves and our lives.

Perhaps we will learn something about the “cost” of normal life, for our physical and mental health, our relationships, or our daily happiness, and begin to imagine making different choices in the new normal. Perhaps we can even imagine that the learning will be stretched beyond individual insights, so that as a society we will learn something about the “cost” of normal, the damage to so many lives, both human and animal, and begin to explore new possibilities.

I’m not sure I am ready yet to imagine the future personally, preferring to stay in the present, though I do notice glimmers of hopes and fears cross my mind and heart. Mostly I find myself immersed in my own exploration of a million and one details of daily life and what I want to spend time on, or avoid. I’m fascinated, for instance, how strongly I am drawn to work with my hands and material things in this time of virtual or distant connection with people, and I am noticing starkly what settles or agitates my nervous system.

What about you? Are the conditions of your life forcing you to learn new things? Are you able to learn more about yourself your life and your yearnings?

Photo by DirkKo form PxHere

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