Ok, confession time.
I didn’t always love Marvel. I used to roll my eyes when people went on and on about it, not understanding why superheroes were a thing. But one day, my husband and I decided to watch all of the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies in chronological order, and that was it. I was hooked.
I know that Marvel isn’t traditionally Disney, and maybe you feel the same way I used to about Marvel. But bear with me, because I just realized something this week:
We are all living a Dr. Strange moment right now.
(If you haven’t seen Dr. Strange yet, spoiler alert! Go grab some popcorn and a friend and give it a view and then come back. I’ll still be here!)
Rewind with me back to 2019, if you will. We collectively had it all. Health, wealth, and the eternal optimism of the American Dream of moving onwards and upwards. The grocery stores were always stocked, and we could get anything we needed whenever we needed it. We stuffed our schedules full of parties, social engagements, and kept ourselves just busy enough that we never had to pause too long and consider any tragedies that occurred in the world.
Dr. Strange was us, pre-pandemic. He drove fast, talked faster, did only what he wanted, and felt entitled to it all. He put his trust in the work he did, and he believed that was what made him valuable in society. There was no room for human connection or rest, only efficiency and the arrogant belief that he could have what he wanted when he wanted it.
And he had watches. Not a watch, but rather many, many watches (and expensive ones!), organized in luxurious fashion. Time was a commodity to Dr. Stephen Strange, logical, well-ordered, and, most importantly, mastered.
We did this too. We scheduled ourselves to the brink, worked ourselves past the point of exhaustion, spent hours commuting and sitting in traffic, and left little time for those who were closest to us, not because didn’t care about them but more that there wasn’t time to care.
And then the whole world crashed.
When Dr. Strange woke up, his world had changed. He couldn’t do what he had always done.
We couldn’t do what we had always done.
He couldn’t use his hands.
We couldn’t go outside.
He lived in denial.
We acted like it was temporary.
He got frustrated and threw tantrums.
We had riots, chaos, and violence in the streets.
He started looking for a cure to fix his mangled hands.
We started searching for a vaccine to fix our mangled dreams.
He moved through grieving all he’d lost.
We moved through grieving all we’d lost.
And then… hope.
For Dr. Strange, it came in the form of an ancient bald lady and her compatriots. They took him in, showing him a new perspective than the one he always held. He couldn’t face it at first… it was the opposite of all he’d believed. His carefully constructed ideas about time, reality, and purpose shifted.
There were moments when Dr. Strange tried to resume his old ways, cheating the system in the library and making choices out of arrogance rather than wisdom. He grew weary and frustrated having to learn to live in a new way and take life at a slower pace.
Does this sound familiar?
We thought we knew so much. How to live well, be successful, and have it all. But what we had was an illusion, like being in the mirror dimension. And when the pandemic hit, we were forced to confront just how little we paid attention to our rhythms and if they made sense.
We started to open our eyes to what truly mattered… those we love, compassion for others, and slowing down to appreciate the moments we have left on this earth.
But it was also frustrating. We want the lives we lost. We experienced joy and happiness in those old traditions that fit like a comfy, old sweater. Our busyness was easier because we didn’t have to process through so much grief, pain, and frustration, we could simply move from one time commitment to the next, like a surgeon from surgery to surgery.
And so, at the first spark of hope that we could regain our function, we all picked up our metaphorical scalpels and carved away the new lessons we learned and the process we’d been through, putting them in a box for another time.
It was a time to celebrate, after all.
And just like Dr. Strange moved too fast, so did we.
I can almost hear the Ancient One chuckling at our naivete, having missed the lesson.
You see, friends, we aren’t meant to go back into our well-ordered lives. I’ve watched too many of us struggle emotionally as we try to resume all that we did before. We are trying to cram our new pandemic-shaped selves into the chaotic swirling mess of non-stop activity that was our lives before, and it just feels wrong.
I can’t be alone in this. I heard recently that over 55% of Americans have either quit their jobs or considering a career change in the past year in what they are calling the Great Resignation. Fifty-five percent.
Why?
Because we have seen what is on the other side, and it’s not endless striving.
It’s peace.
Peace of surrendering our tomorrow, acknowledging what will be will be. Peace of slowing down, spending quality time with our loved ones, and having a gentler rhythm in our day.
Peace in choosing to accept what is instead of endlessly trying to change it.
I think of Dr. Strange in his new self, the one who picks up the mantle of caring for others more than himself. His demeanor is changed, and he lives in a quiet house with the task of protecting that which he used to abuse: Time.
We are living that Dr. Strange moment, my Disney & Marvel friends. The one where we get to chose what we do with time. Are we going to master it or protect it?
In what ways has your life felt like Dr. Strange (or another Marvel character) recently? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments!
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