Opinion

WORDS are never accidental. They are the colours and shapes that intentionally change bare canvas (or blank paper, or empty screens) into something more. Words also shape the space between us. Individual words matter – and so does how and when we use them.

It’s no surprise to learn the 2020 Merriam-Webster "word of the year" was "pandemic," followed closely by "coronavirus" (based on the number of online searches).

Perhaps instead of waiting until the end of 2021 to find out, we should intentionally choose "resilience" as the word of the year, right from the start.

In physical terms, resilience means the capacity to restore something to its original shape, especially after compression. In emotional terms, it means recovering from a sudden shock or change, usually a loss.

Emotional resilience goes deeper than merely bouncing back, however. The potential for resilience is always there, but it is bred in the bone, woven into who we are as people, Unfortunately, it needs that kind of traumatic experience to emerge, but — like a muscle — it also grows and strengthens with use.

This past year was certainly full of traumatic experiences for many people. But what made 2020 worse was the loss of those things that would normally help us to cope. Sporting events, concerts, theatre, ballet, opera, symphony, movies, parties, holiday trips to wherever – all gone. Coffee with a friend, drinks in a pub, a bunch of people sharing a loud meal in a restaurant – gone.

Many people lost their jobs, but others lost the ability to escape out the door for their day at work or school elsewhere, or their chance to stay out for an evening of play.

These things were nice to have, but we have learned they were not essential – or, at least, we have been told this by public-health officials. They made life more interesting, more exciting, more fun – but, in the end, we were also forced to confront the reality that Disneyland matters much less than the chance to see and hold the people you love.

All these changes should make resilience our coming year’s word.

Resilience doesn’t mean a return to exactly how things were before, however. People are resilient, but not elastic. Change changes us, too. Stress, grief, anxiety – all these experiences mean things will never again be the same as they used to be.

While change is inevitable, not all change is bad. Sometimes what we lose leaves a hole forever, but change can often create new possibilities. The pandemic experience is teaching all of us something about who we are, as well as about what really matters. It has forced us to rely on – perhaps to recognize – our inner resilience, and to share it with the people around us.

People are discovering they can cope with things they never thought they could, accepting their own strengths and weaknesses and finding new ways to relate to other people. Liquor and cannabis sales show some people are still trying to escape their reality, but others are finding new ways to relate to friends and family through activities at a distance. Whether it is Zoom parties or virtual choirs, spending time talking on the phone or writing letters for the first time in years, all these things keep that space between us open for what will become possible again in a vaccinated world.

Resilience is not just a word that we can apply to ourselves, however. It is also a word that best describes the ability of communities to persevere in the midst of hardship. By ourselves, none of us has the resources, the strength, to handle everything that overturns our normal lives. We need our families, our friends, our communities, to support us in difficult times, just as we support them when they need us.

One of the interesting things about this pandemic is what it has revealed about community. There is more of it around us, in our wired world, than we might have realized – neighbours who really act like neighbours, not just the people next door; strangers who help us out of simple kindness and generosity; people at a distance who reach out to us over the internet, by mail and on the phone, to deepen a relationship that we have long neglected.

These examples of community – groceries delivered, snow shovelled, dogs walked, parcels left on the door knob and a host of similar things – weave resilience into the fabric of where and how we live together.

Familiar moments we took for granted at Christmas and New Year’s back in 2019 now mean so much more, because those words of 2020 changed our world. Let’s use "resilience" to define our life together in 2021, as we change our world forward into the kind of place we want to live in, once again.

Peter Denton is an activist, writer and scholar based in rural Manitoba.