By Shari Adler
Each year in late spring, from the absolute first moment our naked feet rest upon the cool sand, we experience a rebirth that awakens the most primal of senses. The soft seabed sifts through our toes, the saltwater scent of the cerulean sea permeates the air we breathe, the sparkling reflections of the water and sky illuminate our vision, and the squealing of the seagulls envelops our ears.
This is the moment to rejuvenate all basic senses that were reduced to lethargy during our most dire of winters, this one exacerbated by an exhaustive pandemic.
Our personal identities, our human spectrum of interests and backgrounds, matter little as we welcome our annual oceanic acquaintance.
We do so with a minimal modicum of caution and trepidation. We dip in our toes. We test the temperature. We assess the depth. We detect the motion of the tide. We evaluate the force of the waves. We note whether there are any boats or jumping sea creatures. We observe the color of the sky to determine imminent weather. We check who lurks within our designated seaside spot.
For those of us born and bred by the shore, the ritual of our beach initiation is intuited without even a nanosecond of deliberate thought. These steps occur with the purest form of instinct. After all primal assessments, then and only then do we give our toes permission to uncurl to feel the motion of the nearest oncoming wave, from salty surface to sandy base, as the seashells, sea glass and smooth-edged stones graze our feet.
I have been anticipating such bucolic springtime awakenings in which we are all free to frolic and resume personal reunions, including celebrations of life-affirming milestones and events. The advent of the vaccines has made many of us feel liberated already, like an emotional tidal wave of colossal relief.
However, emerging from what has evolved as a COVID cocoon can be considered analogous to dipping in our toes. We have to ponder whether we are prepared and ready to vacate the home nest.
For those of us for whom social interaction is synonymous with social anxiety, we have experienced a year-long reprieve. Even for the extroverted among us, there generally exists a bit of apprehension. COVID-19 has provided the perfect excuse to avoid certain social situations without fear of retribution.
In a recent Psychology Today article, titled “In-Person Life Is Exhausting: Post-Pandemic Socializing,” Dodgen-Magee, Psy.D., lays out five steps for “re-entering a post-pandemic world,” which she admits is “hard.” She recommends to be “honest about the energy level” involved with moving from quarantine, to “practice” small-talk conversation with store clerks, to limit social engagements, to give yourself time to recover between such meetings, and to “talk with others about the process” to seek support while reconnecting.
The morning of May 8, on a CNN broadcast, Dr. Lily Brown, from the University of Pennsylvania, offered that those individuals experiencing anxiety regarding reentering post-pandemic life should “break down those big fears into small, digestible pieces.”
Taking one step at a time appears to be the professional directive.
The truth is that many of us feel raw, sensitive and vulnerable following the loss, sorrow and pain of the virus. As a result, we may rouse our respective societal paradigms with even more trepidation and caution than is met at the ocean. Unless we are over 100 years old, we face this pandemic reemergence without precedent.
Still, during the past year, I have witnessed many people navigate their lives despite pandemic restrictions. Couples have solidified their relationships via Zoom weddings; pandemic pregnancies seemed to have popped up everywhere. On the other hand, there has been a sea swell of relationship break-ups among pairs of all ages and levels of fame, the latest being the Gateses, of course.
As we re-emerge, even the minutiae of beauty regimens and routines may raise cause for concern. Certain contents of our closets may feel like costumes and relics of a bygone era. People may face the dilemma of swapping comfortable sweats for unforgiving skinny jeans. Sneakers, in fact, have emerged as the hottest post-pandemic fashion trend, their prices rivaling designer stilettos of yesteryear.
I wonder, too, how businesses will transition from a year of compromised revenues. A local hair salon rationalized to me their validation for raising their rates exponentially, including a $20 surcharge for the coiffure equivalent to designer sneakers, the “beach-wave” hair. This year’s summer status statement may be reserved for those Hamptonites milling about in stylish sneakers with professionally blown wavy hair.
Besides such superfluous matters as footwear and hair styles, we are faced with an overwhelming laundry list of essential social protocols: initiating conversation, extending an invitation, expressing gratitude, giving hostess gifts, smiling without a facial covering, even caring for our teeth.
Additionally, we are reminded of appropriate conventions for greeting business associates, friends and family. Hand-shaking, cheek-kissing and hugging are under scrutiny, also deemed relics from the past. We may prefer to maintain some social distance, wash our hands, and refrain from face slurping all those with whom we are about to share a meal.
Ready or not, embarking on new beginnings is on the horizon. Yet, we possess the power to modify our outward scope as well as our inner souls. The pre-pandemic preservation of our selves is unjustifiable, since even the most harried among us has had opportunity for introspection.
One perspective offered in “This Is the Fire,” by Don Lemon, is that we extend ourselves to someone whose appearances do not mirror our own, as he notes, “Make a friend that doesn’t look like you.”
Upon exiting my COVID cocoon, I will dangle my toe, proceed with caution, and attempt to reappear as an evolved and revitalized self. Tides ebb and flow with some predictability, yet post-pandemic life is precarious and lacks precedent … unless you happen to know a storytelling centenarian. I wish I did.
Shari Adler lives in Southampton and New York City.
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