In meditative practices, “The Watcher” refers to the part of the mind or spirit that isn’t caught up in worry, that can scan the body, that can calmly, silently, even with a half-smile, observe the whole being. It could be called pure consciousness, spirit, the God within us. It’s the place of seeing that I hope to connect with each day when I sit. Sometimes, when I’m overwhelmed with worry and anxiety, it can be very difficult to connect to that stillness. But The Watcher, the place of calm, is always a slight shift away. Suddenly, if only for a moment, the mind goes clear, the body calms, there is a loving presence, present.

Social media– and even the news– is a kind of collective anxiety-mind. All these thoughts, preoccupations, immediate reactions, see-like-click-share — scrolling by rapidly. I don’t know about you, but it resembles what happens in my own mind when I don’t exercise the watcher-presence. When the collective is freaking out, how do I respond? I am a part of this collective. I want to be “informed,” and yet I don’t want to be overtaken by anxiety.

One person I listen to (via social media), Martha Beck, the other day in a Facebook live video talked about the difference between being informed and being fearful, between “dirty” fear and “clean” fear. If we think of our reactions on a curve, on one end total ignorance and disregard and on the other blind panic, we can strive for that middle point. Awareness of what’s happening, awareness of measures we can take, awareness, period. I realized — it’s bringing The Watcher to what’s outside of us, not only to our own beings.

In my experience, The Watcher doesn’t really have language in the same way as the worried mind. But with a bit of analysis, here are some observations my Watcher is making as I scroll the news or Facebook and try, repeatedly, to find it again in the midst of collective anxiety.

• Martha Beck, again, says – This is the first time the entire planet is focused on the same problem. Wow.
• It’s not 1918 (Spanish flu) — We’re so connected, virtually. In even the most rural places here in Costa Rica, people have cell phones and/or internet.
• Parents homeschooling their kids brings empathy for the difficult work of teachers — the planning even for just one hour of instruction, the knowledge and practice required to actually teach someone — and imagining doing that with 30 kids in a room all day.
• Empathy, too, for the backbone of society: farm workers, grocery store employees, food industry workers, healthcare workers, truck drivers, packers, shippers, delivery drivers, janitors, cleaners. These people, on a daily basis, quietly keep society working, and so many people pass by without appreciating, or even noticing, their work. Now, suddenly, it comes into collective consciousness – how vital this work is, how underpaid and difficult.
• People in the US especially struggle to stop. But we’re being asked globally to just stop for awhile. When one shifts from doing to being, it can feel like the world is going to end! Especially when so many people spend the majority of their time outside of the home, working, eating, exercising, running, it can feel jarring to suddenly shift to being in their own homes. Almost like in addiction when the addictive substance is suddenly taken away… But doesn’t it feel kind of restorative to be on a massive, global scale?
• Public health: Again, on a massive scale, we’re being asked to think of the “we.” To temper our individual actions, to even realize our individual actions affect the collective. And conversations are also beginning about individual rights and protections in the midst of government action and regulation.
• Illness (and death) is an equalizer, a humanizer. Anyone can get sick, from the most powerful to the least.
• When things change rapidly, it can feel like collapse, but collapse of husks, of shells, of encasing structures can be liberating, can spark innovation and rebuilding.
• We see how quickly things can change, how most of us, all of us, are operating on a thread, that our “stability” is not so stable as it seems. Suddenly, many workers, business-owners, students and families who rely on school lunches, even stock-owners, feel upended…
• And yet, there is so much offering. Worldwide, Peace Corps volunteers were sent home. On RPCV networks, people are offering couches, virtual coffee, support, jobs. I’ve seen Google docs of emergency resources and relief for these volunteers, for food-service workers. For however many are hoarding and fearful, there are people offering and pooling resources.
• Government solutions that just a week ago were politicized and divisive are now being considered.
• As some people lose jobs in one industry, another industry is hiring hundreds of thousands. We’ve never lived in a time of such rapid change, and in just days society can shift to accommodate new needs. Businesses have quickly shifted classes, ordering, resources online. I wonder what else might be innovated in a few days or weeks ahead.

I’m staying put in Costa Rica, where life hasn’t changed much in this small rural town. I bought some extra food and spent the other night blanching, freezing, storing some vegetables. We sit on the porch each day, drinking coffee, watching the neighbors walk by, eating some unripe cacao (it’s like candy!) or oranges off the tree. I write, read, play with the kids, cook, eat, nap, talk, lounge in a hammock or rocking chair. That’s pretty much normal life here, and it’s a rich life anywhere. Every person in this global collective moment can choose to wake up a little more, or to become fearful and closed. I’m amazed that globally we all might be experiencing some of the same, that we all might tune in to that consciousness that is always there in us — that binds us, every human being on this small planet.