BY SANDRA GUY

A pandemic that has forced millions out of work and disproportionately devastated the elderly, Latinx and African-Americans communities has forced a reckoning with how we live.

The world’s simultaneous uprising against systemic racism and police injustices and murders of African-Americans has required our sober self-reflection, too.

In this unprecedented time, we’re also glued to our email indoors, struggling to enjoy the warmth outdoors while wearing a mask and gloves, haplessly trying to help our children negotiate online learning or anxiously figuring out how to teach online, rushing to wipe down groceries and wipe off everything we’ve touched, and steering six feet from people walking on the sidewalk or from neighbors sorting through packages in the mailroom.

So how could anyone simplify their lives? How can we stop on July 12 — designated National Simplicity Day — and revisit our hurried and harried lifestyles? Isn’t this unparalleled time the height of anxiety, loneliness — and even depression?

National Simplicity Day asks us to think like Henry David Thoreau, the author, naturalist and philosopher who wrote “Walden,” exploring how natural beauty, harmony and simplicity could be models for just social and cultural circumstances.

For me at least, our helplessness holds the key. For me personally, being alone every evening during the week prompted me to cultivate my Facebook and other online connections, reacquainting myself with both my childhood community and my professional one.

My networking reminded me how much we can learn from people who’ve known us and our parents for decades, and whose wealth of knowledge can put today’s historic events into perspective. After all, they’ve lived through crises, illnesses, long divisive wars and the constant changes that life brings.

They can also remind us of how simple our days growing up were — or how simple we wish they’d been. They can reminisce with us about spending hours baking in the kitchen, planting our own vegetables, creating our own hairdos and fashions, and sharing in daily prayers and worship.

There’s something calming about knowing that people love you and will support you throughout your life, even if you no longer live near each other.

There’s something calming about reconnecting to a way of worship or gratefulness or playfulness that you grew up with, especially if it underscores your commitment to equity, inclusion and diversity. Maybe it’s worth thinking about how the events you feared most turned out to be the best experiences ever, or how the timing of past events worked out, serendipitously.

There’s something worthwhile in re-evaluating how you spend money, and whether it might just be OK to forego a routine of racing from one appointment to another. Perhaps there’s a Zen in doing more chores for yourself — yes, even in dreaded housecleaning, exercising with pre-recorded videos, and riding a stationary bike in the bedroom while listening to your favorite music from the 60s and 70s.

Maybe it’s OK to relax and breathe, have time to think creatively, or take 30 minutes to talk to a friend on the phone. Maybe it’s OK to watch a movie or TV show you’ve missed, or in spending the night watching “classic” NFL football games or reruns of the original Star Trek.

And maybe it’s OK to wait, hope and believe, without worrying or planning or scheduling every move. Perhaps that comes from remembering a faith tradition or meditative practice that you’d forgotten, one that deeply honors belief, patience and trusting in the long haul.

Perhaps it comes in meditating on seeing a light at the end of the tunnel — as long as we’re willing to do our part to see injustice vanquished. “And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope” — Romans 5:3.