The iamGPT* Project: Echoes of Resilience (a collaboration)

Navigating the Covid saga — a journey that, in retrospect, feels like something a lifetime ago. Those days when the world collectively pressed the pause button, and we found ourselves navigating uncharted waters.

 Imagine me in my cozy corner, surrounded by stacks of eclectic books, pondering leadership and contemplating the essence of weathering a storm. Little did I know that soon, we'd all be thrust into the ultimate test, facing challenges we never envisioned. The unwelcome arrival of Covid-19 disrupted our lives like an unexpected houseguest and threw our routines into disarray. Suddenly, we were all enrolled in a massive Virology 101 class, becoming armchair experts on virus morphology, transmission modes, and R naught ratings. We practically earned honorary PhDs in pandemic survival.

In December 2019, and possibly earlier, an animal virus jumped to a new host which had no innate immunity — the virus is from a family of viruses called coronaviruses and the new hosts are us. Because it’s a new virus it was called a novel coronavirus but soon after the WHO called the virus SARS-CoV-2, and the disease it caused, Covid 19. This particular virus infects the upper respiratory track, and more dangerously the lungs if it gets a chance, and because of it’s a novel virus there are over eight billion people that can unwittingly conspire to help it spread. We’ve had seven months to learn about this new virus and have found that it spreads easily in crowds (particularly indoors), it’s deadly (particularly to those who have underlying health conditions), people can be infectious even when they don’t show any symptoms, and the data suggests only about 1 % of the population has been infected — 1% is a long way from the herd immunity needed to bring us back to some sort of normality. This herd immunity comes when a majority of the population* either recovers from Covid 19 or develops immunity from a vaccine. And a vaccine for mass distribution is 8 to 12 months away (and I’m optimistic).

Amidst the struggle to adapt to the new normal, the blogosphere emerged as a haven. I found solace in sharing stories about changing motorcycle oil and reflecting on life's journey. In a world that demanded physical distancing, these digital connections became a lifeline.

For me, the narrative of the pandemic also unfolded through the lens of an old man in his 90s who'd weathered the storms of life. His perspective served as a poignant reality check. It wasn't so much a crisis as a surreal situation; draining a person both physically and mentally. The lingering question echoed though. Are we genuinely in a crisis?

“Do you think we are in a crisis?”

The answer came through the lens of a man who was born into the depression, knew what it was like not to have food on the table, survived polio, knew the impact of rationing on the home front, and from someone who had earned his wings as a paratrooper (with a couple of night jumps under his belt) — I think it’s safe to say a unique perspective by today’s standards.

His answer was ultimately, “No”.

Through blogging, the significance of reflection became evident. The mantra evolved into a constant self-inquiry about how we were handling the situation when the going got tough. It was a reminder that while we might all be stuck in this proverbial hole, there could be a friend who'd been there before and knew the way out.

As the man continued to watch people walk by he noticed a friend. “Hey friend”, he shouted, “Can you help me get out of this hole?”

His friend, after hearing his request, jumped into the hole and landed right beside him.

The man looked at his friend and asked, “What did you do that for? Now we are both stuck in this hole!”

His friend looked at him and responded, “Yes we are… but I‘ve been here before, and I know the way out”

Then came the oil change saga on my motorcycle, a messy endeavor that unfolded into a metaphor for life's lessons. It taught me that things never go as planned, exerting more effort than initially anticipated, and, most importantly, the sense of accomplishment that accompanies overcoming obstacles.

I was explaining that “all ‘n all” I thought it went well except when I wasn’t thinking and spilled oil everywhere; to that he said, “Next time put out a drop cloth, and doesn’t the sense of accomplishment feel good”

It did feel good, and to think, I almost quit. The whole experience was a great reminder —

No matter how well you are prepared, it never really goes according to plan. It’s much harder than the classroom or what’s shown in the video.

It usually takes more effort than you originally thought. Figuratively speaking, be prepared to sweat.

Course correction is part of the process — you will find that sometimes you think you’re doing the right thing, when in fact, you are not.

It may very well get messy, and you may want to quit. If you quit though, nothing gets accomplished and nothing of value is learned.

The sense of accomplishment feels good. You also learn important lessons for the next time you want to accomplish something.

Amidst the chaos, there was a resounding call for preparedness. A call to build foundations, manage crises, deal with change, and, above all, show kindness. Pithy quotes became guiding lights, serving as reminders to inhale, laugh, and persistently move forward.

As the months passed, we found ourselves entrenched in a real-time lesson in character. Curiosity, adaptability, honesty, transparency, compassion, kindness, grit, determination, and courage — these virtues transformed from mere words to the indispensable building blocks of our survival.

December arrived, ushering in a reflection on the past eleven months of 2020. Father-daughter escapades during the holidays became cherished memories, a poignant reminder that amidst the chaos, joy and connection persist.

It is now just a matter of time with a simple strategy; vaccinate the population faster than the virus can spread, and in turn reduce the number of cases, reduce the number of deaths and allow us to get back to what we remember as normal. The next three months will be difficult by any standard, but by then the momentum will have shifted in our favour and that light we’ll see, will truly be at the end of this COVID-19 tunnel.

In the meantime —

Work very hard not to get COVID-19 — remember this virus is opportunistic. 

Be Kind — we are all dealing with this pandemic in our own way. 

Be Patient — there truly is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Take advantage of all this “free time” and learn something new — it makes it easier to keep track of what day it is, particularly if assignments are involved.

So, yes, we survived the pandemic.

There is a long game when it comes to a modern pandemic: simply get vaccinated before you get sick. We’re 365 days into this pandemic and we’ve another 365 days to go; with each day that passes, get closer to what we remember as normality (at least we thing we can remember).

With this in mind, this is what I plan to do over the next 365 days to help get me through this crisis.

1.     Work really hard to stay healthy and keep others healthy

2.     Be there for family and friends, and help keep them safe (refer to #1)

3.     Continue to be of value to those I work with

4.     Don’t let all that practical “life stuff” slide just because I think every day seems the same and I just don’t feel like doing it (you know like — taxes, doctor’s appointments, blogs, getting my car licence, better rigor around my investing… stuff like that)

5.     Keep running stairs, keep riding my gravel bike, stay mobile and don’t sit too much, keep eating right, and get lots of fresh air

6.     Stay imaginative and try new things (even if they are small and seemingly insignificant). Keep the brain working and “relatively sharp”

7.     Plan that next trip. You’re definitely gonna need it after this is all over.

It’s amazing what you can accomplish in 365 days — I’m optimistic.

 Two years later, as my new collaborator and I revisit these blogs, it's akin to flipping through a scrapbook of resilience. The challenges we faced, the lessons we learned, and the character we discovered in the process — it's all there, etched into the digital pages.

And truth? Well, that became an elusive concept. In a world bombarded by smart devices, online algorithms, and social media bots, finding the authentic truth felt like embarking on a treasure hunt. The polarization of perceived truths made it increasingly challenging to understand the complete picture. Yet, the quest for truth became imperative — not merely the one fed to us but the one we actively sought.

As we ceremoniously close the chapter on the Covid saga, we find ourselves standing on the precipice of new beginnings. The world has changed, and so have we. The narrative unfolds, shaped by the lessons of the past, the resilience we discovered, and the truths we ardently pursued. And you know what? We're still here, still standing, and still spinning our tales. It's a testament to the strength we unearthed within ourselves and the connections that carried us through the storm. As we move forward, these stories become not just artifacts of survival but beacons guiding us forward.

iamgpe and iamGPT*

*It will emulate the person it is interacting with — I tend to end my blog posts with iamgpe, and in a few responses, ChatGTP ended its response with iamGTP. This admittedly was a little flattering.

Fuck... but I'm tired.

photo-tired.jpg

I should point out that as I write this I’m refreshed and have been sleeping really well ever since I beat an annoying head cold — I know this because the withings fitness watch I got for my birthday says so; I’m also up to date with my average heart rate and the number of steps I’m getting in per day. But I digress.

I don’t actually think about how tired I can get unless I’m actually very tired so I only bring this up after watching PBS. Lately I’ve found myself pushing back on the noise of the world; the opinion; the questionable facts; the loud shout overs — I crave the facts, a balance of opinion, and a long format perspective of things. All of this has brought me to the PBS News Hour or The Agenda with Steve Paikin. Again, I digress.

Recently I watched Amy Walter (from Politics Monday with Amy Walter and Tamara Keith) in Iowa just before the Iowa Caucuses were about to start. I will say I’ve always been fascinated with the “great experiment” the founding fathers* set in motion over 240 years ago; maybe I just find the lessons of history so interesting and valuable — again with the digression. Normally when I watch Amy Walter in studio she’s fresh, sharp and articulate but in this case her exhaustion was apparent; it showed on her face and in her words. I couldn’t help but say, “Oh honey, you’re exhausted; it looks like you haven’t slept in days”. There was Amy Walter, fighting through exhaustion to get the job done.

I was looking at the type of exhaustion that’s thrust upon you and you have no choice but to push through it — and I’m not talking about a couple of nights of restless sleep but day after day of sleep deprivation, deadlines, stresses, expectations, crying babies, crying bosses, and sore feet. This is something we’re all familiar with, and instinctively know it’s not good for our wellbeing. It’s something that when we’re experiencing it, it’s never helpful to get the obligatory advice we should get some sleep, because trust me, it’s at the top of the list when we’re so tired the tears are running down your cheeks. We know it’s not good for us, although, it does offer insight into resilience and grit, both of which are crucial components to success.

I have no profound advice other than try to get out of it as quickly as you can, summon the courage not to quit, focus on getting the job done, and take pride you are still standing. I would also like to say if you happen to be coming off a good night’s sleep please have a little sympathy, understanding, and appreciation for those at the front of the room who obviously didn’t.

iamgpe

*I have noticed people are now calling the founding fathers “the framers”. Don’t ask me why… I’m Canadian