Lockdown
Category: Travel
Some Things Are the Same, But Everything’s Different
Well, the Big Day came and went. This Christmas, some things were the same but everything was different.
I put up the Christmas tree, earlier than I ever have, back in November, to help build Christmas cheer. I bought a toy Christmas train and set it up around the base of the tree. Every morning, I would turn it on and listen to its chug, chug, and whistle as its pre-recorded Christmas tunes tinkled out while I sat alone on my couch.
There were brightly wrapped packages under the tree but they had to be delivered early to family and friends at their homes, placing them on the porches and stepping back for a socially distanced visit.
Instead of the whole family filling up my home and beds with chaos and laughter, it was just three of us, my bubble. It made for a much quieter home, which wasn’t such a bad thing, but it sure was different.
I still prepared a table full of food for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. A turkey with stuffing was roasted and we said our thanks, hands held together in a much smaller circle this year.
Christmas morning we woke early with phones signaling a FaceTime call and several times that day we were on the phone opening stockings and gifts together. No face to face but a good second best.
I bought three small bottles of champagne for our three households and together on FaceTime we raised our glasses and made a toast to our love and families, those present and absent.
My eldest daughter made a very moving and heartfelt video for us which was delivered via social media. We listened in the quiet of my living room by the Christmas tree, our fireplace crackling in the background. Her love for us and pain at not being able to be together was so evident. We laughed and we cried, again, not in person, but as a good second substitute.
Instead of noisy board games with much teasing and laughter, there was a big jigsaw puzzle set up at one end of the dining room table, and with a full, quiet afternoon ahead of us, much of it got completed.
In spite of all the restrictions put on us by the pandemic, we managed to have a beautiful and meaningful Christmas. We still had the basic elements, the tree, the stockings and gifts, the feast and good food. Much of it was the same, but the pandemic made it all different. What was important and never-changing was the love we felt for each other. We just found new ways to share it.
A Christmas of Magical Thinking
Mysterious monoliths are popping up all over the world. A friend thank you, Meg Brubacher) posted pictures of this global news and asked her Facebook friends what they thought of them.
I told her I think it’s very cool. Just the distraction into magical thinking that we need in these troubling times. Who is doing it? I’m guessing artists and artisans from all over the world who are using their joined creativity for all of our benefit. We all need a dose of magical thinking.
Christmas is already full of potential for magical thinking. Santa’s global journey in a sled full of toys is pretty amazing. For me, the original story of a baby born in a manger, visited by shepherds and wise men is the most magical and mysterious story of all.
These times are challenging me to dig deep into my own beliefs and ways of thinking to decide what really are the most important traditions and meanings of Christmas for me. It’ll be a simpler Christmas, still with a decorated Christmas tree, brightly wrapped presents under its boughs, burning logs in the fireplace, and a turkey in the oven. Although family and friends will be separated, we will find new ways to connect via FaceTime and short outdoor visits. What I can’t give to my family, I’m sharing with others through local food banks, churches, toy drives and other initiatives. Thoughts of community, community building, and quiet worshipful time is adding a depth of meaning to Christmas for me that is accentuated by the pandemic and its limitations.
What ‘s most important to you this Christmas? What traditions and activities are you holding on to in spite of the pandemic? I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Friluftsliv – Embracing Outdoor Living the Norwegian Way
As fall approaches, the weather is getting cooler and soon enough we will be smack into winter. I am dreading the thought of being stuck inside for days and weeks on end. Already I have been brainstorming ways of embracing the outdoor winter season rather than avoiding it. Well, as it turns out, the Norwegians have a word for this — friluftsliv – which roughly translates into ‘open air living.’ It gives the Norwegians a mindset that embraces being in nature and the outdoors at any time of the year in any kind of weather.
In March, as COVID-19 pushed me away from others and close contact, I began to seek more outdoor activities. For me this spring and summer, that meant embracing gardening in a big way as my daughter and I created a beautiful COVID garden in what had been a weed-filled lot.
I walked more – everywhere – throughout my own neighbourhood streets as well as established trails, parks, and conservation areas.
I began taking more outdoor photographs again and enjoyed editing and sharing them with others on social media.
I also began fishing again, something I used to do in abundance years ago before my children were born and city living became the norm.
Now, with the change in weather, I am seeking activities that will get me outdoors enjoying nature in the snow and ice. I am returning to snowshoeing and have been contemplating getting a pair of cross-country skis. I may take up ice-fishing. I can continue to take pictures and may even enjoy an outdoor picnic in the snow.
Whatever I choose, it really means embracing a mindset that enjoys being outdoors, whatever the weather. Winter is a beautiful and unique time of year. Let’s all do some ”friluftsliving” and get outside and enjoy nature and all its benefits no matter what the season.
(For those who would like to read more about it, look for “Friluftsliv: Connect With Nature the Norwegian Way” by author Oliver Luke Delorie.)
Photograph credit – Andrew Fearman
Board Games for the Bored
At my house, my daughter Brittany has been staying with me during COVID-19. We found an old crokinole board and pieces in a basement closet and we are having so much fun playing some fast-paced games. The Scrabble board is getting well-used and we have had some fun and laughter playing Scattergories. An old crossword book has been dug out of the closet to add some variety to it all. We haven’t used it yet but the old Wii has been set up on the TV for some golf and bowling games.
Here are some ideas for other board games, for singles and or couples or groups. What are some of your favourite games to play during COVID-19? I’d like to know.
Social Isolation and the Coronavirus
I read an interesting article this morning when I opened up my computer — “Lockdown was supposed to be an introvert’s paradise. It’s not” by Abby Ohlheiser in online Technology Review. It speaks of this lockdown and social isolation we are all experiencing with COVID-19. Introverts feel relieved. Finally! They love social isolation and are good at it and yet they have always been criticized for it and pressured into being more socially active. Suddenly we are all in the same boat, stuck at home.
Ohlheiser says, “[A]s people began to adjust to isolation, they started to
find ways to bring their outside social lives into their homes.
People are coping with the coronavirus pandemic by upending their lives and
attempting to virtually re-create what they lost. The new version, however,
only vaguely resembles what we left behind . . . The result, for introverts,
extroverts, and everyone in between, is the bizarre feeling of being socially
overwhelmed despite the fact that we’re staying as far away from each other as
we can.”
I know I have experienced this. I am an extrovert and have always been on the
go, attending a workout class or club, taking a workshop, and visiting family
and friends. When I was suddenly thrust into my own home with nowhere to go, I
found instant relief on the Internet. In one day, I took part in a Sound Bath
Get-Together, sat with others for a short meditation, took an online dance
session, and that night attended an online Slam Poetry session, as well as
chatting it up with family and friends on both my telephone and video chat. In
between I could cruise through Facebook and my e-mail catching others comments,
jokes, memes, games, poetry and online journals or virtually wander through a
museum or art gallery. If that wasn’t enough, I could Netflix binge or watch
the constant stream of media attention on the latest coronavirus news
worldwide.
I was able to do it for one day. It was overwhelming. I realized I had replaced
my busy life with a virtual one, one that wasn’t at all like the real thing. So
I began to read, write, cook, and clean. Now I go outside for long walks with
my camera in hand, carefully taking into consideration government bylaws and
suggestions as they change daily, practising six foot social distancing,
washing my hands and changing clothes when I return to my own home.
It is difficult adjusting to this isolated virtual world. We have been told by
the experts that this could go on for 1 1/2 to 2 years. If it does, we all will
be changed. Let us hold on to our humanity, be aware of loving and caring for
our small circles, those most important to us, and finding healthy connections
wherever we find them through nature and other life-building activities. All
the best to you. Someday this will end.
The Bubble Has Burst
I’m back from camping for four glorious days at the Hillside Music Festival with my family. We were part of the 1,400 volunteers, musicians, artisans and food-makers who helped to create the magic for the three day festival on a small island in the middle of a lake.
Hillside is really like living in a bubble – a bubble filled with music, singers and poets. It’s filled with drummers and dancers, parades and gatherings, art and artisans, beauty-makers and joy-creators. Tantalizing aromas fill the air with sizzling sausages, spicy tacos and curry fries. Colours and textures infuse the eyes with tie-dyed fabrics, twisted metals and gems, and carved wood pieces. Workshops offer new experiences of living and loving, moving and creating. The Children’s Zone is full of bubbles and paint, sand and water, music, crafts and laughter. The smoke from the Sacred Fire rises to the skies all weekend long, circling around the poles of the tipi in the Indigenous Circle.
Volunteers get to stay on the island where we create Volly Village with tents and trailers, banners and pennants. In the village are old friends and new friends, stories and gatherings, love and sharing. After hours, campfires burn and spontaneous musical jams and drumming fill the nighttime hours until the sun rises and a new day begins.
Yes, Hillside Music Festival is a delicious escape from reality. Now the bubble has burst and we all have returned to our homes. The secret lies in keeping the memories and magic alive in our own little worlds with photos and mementos, shared stories and friendships. It truly was a Happy Hillside and I am looking forward to next year.
How Are You? (On a Journey of Grief)
(an excerpt from my journal after my husband’s passing.)
It’s been six weeks since Tom died and friends and family ask me, “How are you?”
I think I’m doing okay. I’m never quite sure what to say to people when they ask me that. Tears still come every day. I miss him like crazy, but I can actually talk about it now without breaking down. My teaching job and my little ones are keeping me busy. I have the most wonderful class. Perhaps my principal was being extra nice to me when she set up the class list, but, however it happened, I really did luck out with this bunch of great little kids. They are adoring, affectionate and easy, extremely responsive, caring children. And their parents are equally as great. I don’t think I have ever felt so loved and supported as I have this year. The kids wrote me beautiful letters at Christmas and parents, too, sent in kind and compassionate cards and letters.
I bought something new for myself after Tom died. It’s a two foot long, black, wooden carving of the word “Dream.” It bought it for my bedroom, not only for the obvious take on night-time dreams but also to remind me that I am alive and have opportunities to “dream” about new possibilities for the future. I know it should have been obvious but it was only a few days ago that I realized that this is the first time in my entire life that I am living alone with no one else to be responsible for but myself. I feel I have a lot of soul-searching to do in discovering who I really am and what I really want for the rest of my life. Tom and I were so happy and so looking forward to a future of retired life together, but if I am to be denied that, then I need to look for new opportunities for self-growth and discovery. The world is a big, beautiful place and I am alive and have an opportunity to decide what I want to do with my life.
Right now I am reading a great book, Broken Open – How Difficult Times can Help us Grow, by Elizabeth Lesser. There’s a quote in it from Joseph Campbell:
“People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life.
I don’t think that’s what we’re really seeking. I think that what
we’re seeking is an experience of being alive. . . so that we actually
feel the rapture of being alive.”
Lesser goes on to interpret that in her own way.
“Rapture is not a selfish emotion. It is pure gratitude, flowing freely
through the body, heart and soul. Gratitude for what? For breath,
for colours, for music, for friendship, humour, weather, sleep, awareness.
It is a willing engagement with the whole messy miracle of life.
The world suffers more from unhappy, stifled people trying to do
good than it does from those who are simply content within themselves.”
I couldn’t agree more!
What I hope to do and be is a person of gratitude and contentment. Content in my own skin. If I can be that person, then my love for myself and my place in the world will be transferred to the rest of the world, to others. It can’t help but be reflected outwards like the radiating ripples from a stone being tossed into a quiet, still pond.
Moving Forward
A friend asked me if I still communicate with Tom after over five years of his passing.
I have had visitation dreams from Tom in the first year after he was gone, and I had one on the fifth anniversary of his passing, but I don’t communicate with him in any other way. I haven’t been to mediums, or fortune tellers, or psychics. I don’t have long conversations with him or feel his presence with me in any real way. Occasionally, I will make a comment directed to him, almost more like speaking my own thoughts out loud. I linger, at times, on his photo on the wall, perhaps send him a little finger kiss. This past month, I did have an incident where I heard two knocks on the door leading up from the basement apartment. It totally freaked me out. I was more scared than comforted. (Tom used to live there when he shared the house with his sister. When I moved in we took over the whole house.)
When he passed, I felt very strongly that I wanted nothing, NOTHING, to hold him back from moving fully into the next world. I loved him so much that I wanted to fully release him from any earthly ties or worries so that he could move forward completely into the next phase of his existence, to be all that he could and should be. I swallowed my own fear, let him fully go, and sent him on his final path from me with a blessing to embrace the next stage with no regrets, no obligations, nothing to hold him back in any way. Therefore, if I felt he was still hanging around, bound to me and this world in some way, I would be very sad. I love him and want him to be fully and completely all he is capable of being. If what mediums say is true, that he is here always with me, observing my life, I don’t encourage that or desire it, and I am not aware of his presence in that way. Some take comfort in feeling their loved one’s presence still with them. I take comfort in NOT feeling him still with me and knowing that he has moved on to the next stage of his existence. I realize that it may be different for others, but this is my way of dealing with my loss and my grief. We each grieve differently.
Does that mean I don’t miss him with all of my heart? Not at all. I hold onto his memory with great love. I am deeply gratified to have had the ten years I did with him. They truly were the best years of my life. I wrote my book to honour him and our life together. It is my monument to him and his memory. But I know that true healing lies in moving on with my life, even if that means, it has to be without him. And my wish and prayer for him is that he, too, moves on to the next stage of his new life. We were truly blessed to have the time we had together, but it is now a time for new things.
The Storytellers
Reading good books inspires me. Writing allows me to share my life. We need to tell our stories, they connect us, as we share the tapestry of our lives.
In more ancient cultures the oral story-tellers were held in esteem as they were the reservoirs of life tales. They ensured the tales of long ago were passed on to future generations, and not just for entertainment. The stories were told so that we would never forget, so that one’s memory could live on through future generations. They were told so that we could learn from the past. Stories helped others understand who they were and where they came from.
The oral story-tellers in our modern day culture exist now in bars where tales are told over foaming pints of beer, around campfires, dinner tables, and steaming cups of latte in the local coffee shop. We have become a world of printed words and pictures. Electronic media connects us and these are the new ways our stories are passed on in busy lives. Readers sit behind worn paperback books, computer screens, glowing Kindles and Smartphones. Facebook, Hotmail, Youtube and Instagram ensure we continue to share our lives with each other. We still love our stories. We still need the stories. Now we need the writers, the photographers, and the film-makers to be the tellers of the tales and, with technology, we all have the potential to be the story-teller.
Past or present, we are all human, we are all the same – we live, we breathe, we smile, we wipe tears from our children’s faces. We share joy and suffering, the strong look after the weak, we bury our dead as we, too, will be buried someday. Stories satisfy our desire to stay connected, for when our stories end, we end. Stories are as important for us now as they were a way back then.