This year I participated in two virtual Passover seders. My makeshift seder plate held parsley, thats it, and I bought a bottle of wine. Conversation focused on how this night is different from all other nights, but also how this year is different from all other years. While I wish I could have seen my family and friends in person, I was grateful to have the technology to gather virtually to celebrate liberation and springtime, two of my favorite things.

Most of us around the world are experiencing a form of physical distancing we havent felt before in our lives. Were watching our digital engagement accelerate exponentially as we learn that a lot of the work we do can be accomplished remotely. Were also learning that while quarantined in our homes, we can easily connect with loved ones all over the world through video calls.

There are definitely some positive changes that could emerge post-COVID. Health care could amp up the use of telehealth services and employers could expand work from home policies. These changes will undoubtedly have their benefits, as weve seen pollution levels decrease with fewer flights, cruises, and car commutes. We clearly dont need to be moving around as much as we do.

Though I support these types of changes, right now Id like to make the case, post-COVID, for more contact, more community, and more togetherness rather than more isolation, more distancing, and more digital connection. One of the biggest things COVID has shown me is how important community and interdependence are for our survival.

For us to be resilient beings, and belong to resilient communities, we need each other. COVID has exposed the feebleness of our consumer society: grocery stores are running low on all kinds of staples from flour to canned beans because we are afraid theres not enough. We are afraid someone else will swipe them up and well be left with none. While there is not actually a shortage in our food supply, we are feeling feelings of scarcity, and reacting with a mindset of not enough. And, to varying degrees, were relying on a massive, globalized, corporate, and unsustainable system to bring us our most basic need: food.

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines resiliency as an ability to recover from or adjust easily to adversity or change. This word is used a lot in the context of personal traumas, like sexual violence, and collective traumas, like natural disasters or COVID. One way for communities to be resilient as a collective is to have greater control, or sovereignty, over the food we eat.

That could mean growing our own vegetables if we have the space, or being part of a community garden. It could mean shopping at farmers markets and supporting local growers. In general, it means figuring out how to get our food needs met ourselves, and closer to home. And, very importantly, food sovereignty means everyone, not just a privileged few, has the right to control what they eat and where they get their food.

Food is huge, but what else makes us resilient? Another basic human need is to feel that we belong, that we are included, held, and loved. Not long ago, we used to live in larger households with multiple generations under one roof. My dad grew up in Turkey surrounded by aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. Many cultures worldwide still do this, but its not the norm in the West: higher education often means greater mobility, taking us far away from loved ones.

Yet, its critical that we feel we are part of something greater than ourselves. Its the reason why so many of us felt moved by the videos of Italians singing together from their balconies: they were sending the message that were all in this together. But even more than simply being together, we actually need to be needed by one another. This authentic reliance is the glue that holds us together as human beings, and it doesnt work if we attempt to take care of ourselves financially, emotionally, and otherwise without looking to other humans for support.

I am fortunate to be a part of a small intentional community in Portland, OR, comprised of 8 adults and 3 kids living on almost an acre of property. We grow vegetables and fruit, make music, and break bread together at least twice a week. We all have our own work and our own lives, but we also prioritize our community. In this COVID era, I have felt enormously grateful to have my housemates as we pool our shopping lists, plant seeds in our greenhouses, and continue to have impromptu jam sessions. While I understand this is not a lifestyle for everyone, it is for me, and I wonder how we can all incorporate elements of greater cooperation and mutual aid into our lives.

When we think about our survival needs, can we start looking closer to home? How can we rely on our friends and neighbors for their unique skills and gifts, whether its woodworking, beekeeping, hair cutting, or web design? Can we pool our resources, financial and social, for community projects? Perhaps we can begin to actually need each other again, as we did before global capitalism gave us the freedom to pursue our individual careers that support our individual selves. Perhaps we can bring our fellow humans and our fragile yet resilient planet to the forefront of our hearts by embracing our undeniable interdependence.

While were proving that we can easily connect digitally, I hope that the world post-COVID is less dominated by screens than it was before. I hope that when its safe to, we can greet each other with open arms. Because embracing one another, literally and figuratively, is critical to our survival.

See the rest here:

A Case for Community in the Wake of COVID - Elemental