Sitting on the doorstep of my small patio garden, pen in hand, notebook gaping. Birds squeaking. The sun though bright is chilled by a noisy rush of windy air.
Aware my heart is beating carefully in my chest. As it should. That my brain is sending signals to my hand gripping this pen, so it can glide free fall across the lines of the paper.
I don’t stop to think what to write. I just write. On Spotify sounds are singing quietly in the background – “I be thinking about you”. Everyone is thinking about someone they can’t be with at this time of crisis across the globe.
Private thoughts sometimes shared. Sometimes silenced, as the fear behind them is too much to verbalise.
Crises unite, but also reinforce anxieties and fears. Those with less resilience – mentally, emotionally and/or physically – suffer more harshly in times of catastrophic change.
It is human and comforting to reach for the silver lining, the positive amidst the panic and facts about how damaging the virus is.
We must nonetheless also be allowed – or allow ourselves – to ponder and feel the excruciating power of sadness, anxiety and fear this situation brings.
To fight our genuine feelings is also to bury them, disregard them, pay them no respect.
We must respect ALL our feelings and emotions in response to this global wrecking ball.
Though we can of course choose to err on the side of acceptance and quiet. Choosing thoughts that encourage hope, calm, sensitivity, awareness and absolute certainty that – as with all crises and horrors that have blighted humanity – this one will pass in its current form.
We may resurface changed forever. We may just be thankful lives at a very basic level can resume. In any case we will all have learned something new about ourselves. How we respond in a crisis – in this particular crisis. How we choose to react and abide; how we face the fears, anxieties and invasive clutching at worry, and the what-ifs.
We are learning something new about ourselves, every minute that passes as we stay at home. We find resources we never knew we had. We slide into dark places we didn’t know existed. We perhaps hope no-one notices, and that we are not defined by this fleeting or lasting slippage into darkness.
We wonder what hopelessness might feel like, look like if confinement endures. We reflect on how being completely safe and saved from the pandemic might affect us, short term and long.
What I know from experience first hand in a long line of crises that have affected me personally, as well in some instances the world, is that we do recover.
We rebuild, reshape, resume and relearn how to feel free, and safe, and wonder-filled with how generous life can be.
We remember how precious life is. We appreciate the gift of a healthy life is really the only one that matters.
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We are London-based, working with clients in London, Dorset, Hampshire and internationally.
© Amanda Yensa Manor 2020