Paul Romer, the Nobel Prize-winning economist, once famously said, “A crisis is a terrible thing to waste.”

Now, please don’t misinterpret that as being happy about this state of affairs, let alone having wished for it. If any of us could make this virus disappear, I am quite certain we would. However, as eradication does not appear to be on offer, what is left to us is to make what we can of this moment. There is truth in Paul Romer’s words: chaos contains opportunity.

Brunswick resident Heather D. Martin wants to know what’s on your mind; email her at heather@heatherdmartin.com.

I think this collective moment is similar, if less pleasant, to what we experience when we travel. Unfamiliar landscapes and surroundings make us hyper-aware and observant. After all, what is exotic and enticing to us when we are somewhere foreign is nothing more than someone else’s boring backyard.

I’d wager there is no travel destination on the globe less familiar and less certain than each of our own new “everyday.” My hope is that you are writing this all down.

The writing part is important because, believe it or not, you’ll forget. I know that right now that seems impossible, but you will. It’s human nature. I discovered just how true this was in re-reading the book I kept of my son’s early years. There are stories in there I wrote about with easy abandon – that I realize I would not remember otherwise. We forget, we shelve, and that doesn’t mean the idea is not important or profound, just elusive.

If you are new to journaling it might feel odd. That’s OK. Do it anyway. You don’t have to craft the great American novel, you don’t need to aim for profound.  The goal here is simply to capture and record this moment in time. You might jot down one quick emotion, a short blurb on the day. Or you might find yourself writing pages and pages. All good, all fine.  Don’t worry about grammar, don’t worry about editing. Just capture.

As it becomes less strange and more habit, you might find the structure shifting. You might get the clutter out of the way and start digging deep. Or perhaps you are the sort who will lay down a lot of stuff and sift through later. However you do it is just fine. What will be amazing, is what you make of it when you look back. It’s trite, but true, that life can only be experienced in the now, and understood in reflection. These are notes you are keeping for your future self.

As a collective whole, I’ve seen a few common themes emerging, experiences or epiphanies that seem to be fairly widespread and worthy of posting on the wall so we don’t lose sight of them. For example, the new understanding of who and what truly is “essential.”

I’m taking notes of those, as well as my own experiences, and hope to explore some of those with you in the weeks ahead. I also want to hear from you.

What are you seeing? What are you feeling? What are the hard parts? What are the hidden joys? What are the changes you want to keep when “normal” becomes possible again?