" Burnt out ends of smoky days " T S Eliot
One more week to go and we will have lived through the second lockdown in England. This time round has been harder due to the shorter days and colder weather but it has also been easier since we have done this once before. There is less fear. Less anxiety. Less paranoia.
Emotionally however in some ways it is harder. We are all weary now. I am exhausted by the barrage of information I am being drip fed on a daily basis. It is draining having to analyse: 'Am I being safe and considerate or living too freely and too unguarded?'
Added to the strain of living under Covid restrictions has been the racial tension this year. Coming from a church community that is 50% black - I have also had to wade through many conversations and wounds over the 'Black Lives matter' fall out. It has been a needed exposure and one I am very excited to embrace. There has never been any issue of not feeling totally at home in Africa and with my African roots but personally I have had to look at how my African friends and family view me, how they perceive my African soapstone sculptures, my Zimbabwean pottery, my choice of African memoirs, literature written from a white perspective.
And this is all before getting into the politics of the USA - This is a relevant concern for me since so many of my friends are American and my home for a season was in America.
Back in the first lockdown we were cheerful and resilient and excited to face something together as a nation and as a world. It was fresh and we hadn't lived through the many months of emotional turmoil.
And that is why now in November, two thirds of a year later, I feel so weary & ready to hibernate for a season.
I spent so much of the first lockdown watching the earth wake up. Alone & free to do nothing for weeks on end, I lived with the mindset of an innocent little girl - wading through bluebells and falling asleep under trees laden with spring blossom. Spring is always such a hopeful bright time of year.
Autumn is naturally slower. A better time of year to reflect. The hard work is over. This is the season of rest. It is OK to be achieving little or nothing. It is tempting to follow natures seasonal cycle & put myself to sleep for a few months.
So I am slowly winding down. I am making time to just sit and look at the sky with a blank mind. I am doing simple things like picking pine cones and holly to make seasonal wreaths. I have been assembling seats out of discarded rocks, small logs and wooden planks. Scattered all over Loseley are my little creations - natural benches, private places to rest and look out across the valley and enjoy the view.
I build these seats for myself and others. I want to share what makes me happy. This valley and these views and the low angle of the sun. A couple of spots are perfectly placed to bask in the final hour of sunlight, places to lift your face heavenward and soak in the gentle golden late Autumn sunshine.
I don't have any answers to the chaos of the last few months. All I know is that this has been my Jubilee year and it has been markedly different from every other year I've lived on planet earth. I wrote earlier in the year about enforced rest and this is something I have to keep reminding myself to do. REST. Not just physical but mental rest.
I give up the need to be in charge. The struggle is real. But I am no longer doing the fighting.
The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace and remain at rest.
Exodus 14: 14
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