Not The Rat Race

We just got the Onstar diagnostics report for our Chevrolet Bolt. Last month we drove only 75 km, much less than normal because of the COVID-19 lockdown. We actually walked farther than that, just like the old days. Remember the 1940s? Back then, the family lived on the edge of town. We could walk three blocks to buy eggs from a retired couple with a hen house in their back yard. It was less than a kilometre to the grocery store, to school or to work: a gentler time.

Humanity shares with rats a common  shrew-like ancestor named Juramaia that evolved 160 million years ago. You might say we survived the rat race, a race that was and is run on foot and close to home.
Three hundred thousand years ago, our ancestors
left the rat race and began inventing tools and using fire.
Seven thousand years ago they invented the wheel.
There followed
the steam engine (1775),
internal combustion engine (1860),
powered airplanes (1903). 
Now we are in the wild-and-crazy human race,
a race to go faster, further, cheaper,
so we can turn around and race home again.

Dorothy and I admit to participating in the human race. Before the virus, we traveled more than 1000 km in a typical month. One Christmas we drove to Florida and home again in two weeks, a total of 4400 km. We have crossed North America several times consuming fuel at the rate of about 10 L per 100 km. On a few occasions we took to the air using more than three times as much fuel for the two of us compared to driving the same distance. The rats don't know what to think about their crazy human cousins. They avoid us except to clean up our trash after we rush by.

Far from home: Youtube video

This has been humanity in its adolescence
reluctantly, thoughtlessly growing up
with an expectation of more, bigger, and better,
as if enough were not enough.
Recently, we have left the passing lane
to enjoy the journey
forgetful of the destination.
No longer cursing traffic jams at rush hour,
we have become hikers, artists and musicians,
philosophers and poets,
helpers and caregivers,
teachers, mentors, playmates and friends,
learning from a virus how to be human
two metres apart,
with clean hands.

The world continues to work reliably.
We are living a miracle.
We have a say in what happens next.
"We" includes everything.