If your schedule is anything like mine, you now have approximately 3,415 more meetings than ever before, all over video.
Who would have thought video meetings could be so exhausting?
There’s something about being on camera, remaining bright and attentive, looking alert, pleasant, well put together, all the while remaining unnaturally stationary. We’re rooted to our seats in these Zoom meetings. Unable to wiggle, stretch, get up for a glass of water, gaze out the window at the newly clear-again skies for a moment. At least, that’s the case when we’re meeting more formally—with clients, perhaps attending a live webinar, perhaps an online conference.
But the meetings within the various professional organizations I belong to are a decidedly more casual affair. There are sometimes guest speakers, that is, the meeting is more like a webinar, in which case we might feel the need to be on our best butt-to-the-seat, attentive, nonsquirmy behavior. But there are also plenty of member presentations and discussions, plenty of “happy hours” or “teas” (open, free-for-all conversation), which are most definitely not formal occasions. Lean forward, lean back, have a stretch—you needn’t turn your camera off to get comfy. Kids, pets, spouse, housemates put in a cameo appearance? No problem. Have them say hi. Got a three-ring circus to supervise in the living room? That’s when the mute button comes in handy. We’re all friends here, just sharing info and thoughts, having a chat. The background tapestry of home life is a given. If the hosts are really “on fleek,” we tend to find ourselves so wrapped up in the conversation that the framing device of video melts away and we might all be there the room together, hashing through ideas, swapping stories and advice, expanding our horizons, kids and pets occasionally underfoot.
In many ways, it reminds me of being in school. Those impromptu discussions in the local coffee shop, in someone’s dorm room (or apartment), in the hallways, on the stairs. Long impassioned debates, sometimes deep into the night. I think it’s the fact that we’re all speaking to each other from our personal spaces that puts me in mind of this long-ago time. And the fact that we’ve put away our work for the moment and we’re engaged instead with thought and with one other. It’s all rather heady. Makes for quite a nice break from the routine. This virus has locked us all away. But our technology has opened a portal that safely and seamlessly brings friends and acquaintances right into our living rooms (or the corner of the office, the bedroom, the kitchen), crossing the boundaries of time and space in a flash.
It’s comforting, it’s convenient, and it’s invigorating.
And it’s a break from the hard reality we’re all navigating right now. The virus sweeping through communities and most of us sheltered at home. Families fragmented. Children doing school from their living rooms. Parents wearily on duty 24/7, without the respite even of play dates. Then, outside our private cocoons, the fires raging through California and the West Coast. The rampant racism starkly on display in the news. General unrest, all of us unsettled, life uncertain.
Even in the best of times, finding time to engage in additional projects can be challenging. How much more challenging now, in these not-at-all-the-best-of-times. But on the other hand, getting even a bit more involved with other members in this way brings with it such benefits. A great deal of satisfaction. The feeling of accomplishment. The delight of connection. And other intangibles. There’s a rich return for that investment of time, in terms of both the info shared and the camaraderie. After our discussions, I return to my regularly scheduled day with renewed zest.
If you’ve got any kind of space at all in your schedule—if you’re safely tucked away at home, if your closest association with the fires is with the bad air and the post-apocalyptic landscape, if you can set the tasks of the day momentarily aside—then you’ve an opportunity to reach out, for a short rejuvenating while, beyond the confines of your current locked-down life.
You might want to give it a try. I hope you do.