-Isms: Views on life in rural America

How do you measure a year?

According to “Seasons of Love,” from the Broadway hit “Rent,” in 525,600 minutes, you measure life “in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee, in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.

You measure life, “In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried. In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.”

In the past year, many of us have, undoubtedly, measured life in a few of these ways. One day, life is smooth (or perhaps a little bumpy) sailing and, the next, our world stills. Could we anticipate the ways we would learn to measure our lives a year ago when coronavirus became part of our mainstream vocabulary, a dreaded interference to our everyday routines?

In the perfect fictional setting, the spotlight would come up on a blackened stage, with eight neatly-spaced circles engulfing performers belting out how the story never ends and we need to contemplate how to measure life. (Cue the opening scene to the musical or movie version of Rent to see what I am talking about.)

In reality, light bent differently around many of us this past year, maybe even jaded those who try to maintain a positive outlook. In our own ways, each one of us faced struggles. Some of us still deal with the aftermath. We were separated from loved ones, strived to keep businesses afloat, worried about the loss of livelihood and its effect on our families. We were isolated and lost touch with one of the basic needs in the hierarchy of life.

Yet, we persevered. We accepted the reality we faced and tapped into creativity to make sense of this crazy world. For some, that real-world mentality meant standing outside our loved one’s window at the care center, carrying on a conversation and expressing our love, meant figuring out how to revitalize business as it slowed to a standstill, meant learning that when we combine our talents, life’s treasures build and continue forming a solid foundation.

I wonder if a lot of us, in the past 365 days, didn’t realize that daylight and sunsets, midnight and cups of coffee are parts of life we should not take for granted, that they are beautiful and necessary portions of our day. I wonder how many of us discovered a slower walk through life brought a sense of comfort, a break from the normal-yet-wickedly fast-paced mentality to which we have been conditioned.

My guess is we’ve known that all along, but we prefer to fit the status quo instead of admitting what we believe is important to us and for our situation.

So, don’t be distracted by a theatrical plot twist. We run and run and run some more, but for what? Fifteen minutes of fame? A small (or non-existent) fortune? Our inflated view of self-worth and success?

Perhaps we have learned simpler is simply better, so appreciate what you have. I feel the last year has provided a wake-up call about our own mortality, offered a glimpse of the important elements of life. In a sense, it has been a measuring stick of a messy yet comfortable lifestyle and the tangibles we deem important.

The moral of this musical interlude, comprised of 365 days, mirrors the thesis of Rent: measure life by how you live every day and measure life in love.

I’m measuring life by living it to the fullest, surrounded by family and friends, daylight and sunset, burning the midnight oil and savoring cups of coffee (oh, don’t forget about the wine, too.)

How will you measure the past year in your life?