Opening up from a
lockdown
You begin to realise
that what you see and experience becomes a matter of perspective and how you
decide to relate to it. Looking around my bijoux apartment, everything seems so
ordinary and mundane that a lockdown can pile on you in claustrophobic and
mentally debilitating ways.
The lull in activities
around the world could suggest that the world is not necessarily moving along
without you. There is no rat race to enter, no bandwagon to join, though the
routine gainful employment offers can be a welcome distraction. I have worked
from home many times and worked remotely too.
With that thought in
mind, I wonder how co-working environments would have to be reconfigured for
the post-pandemic era when social distancing becomes the norm rather than the
exception. The earnings of that industry per square foot might suffer. They are
suffering now.
Retreating to change
Anyway, at the suggestion of Elizabeth Gilbert, maybe I should see this time as one of a
retreat, I do not have to hold vigil, pretend I am in rehab, create a kibbutz, become monastic, or
visit an ashram. I just have to make a contentment of peace and relaxation
around me without exerting myself to anything. I can read, I can watch, I can
learn, yet not stress myself whilst finding myself. It is possible and I will
not beat myself up about it either.
My friend who I have
not seen in over a week used to come round to help around the house, especially
from the time I fell ill in January. I did rise to get the rubbish out along
with the recyclable things, it felt strange that I had not done it in a while.
Scrubbing to remember
Yesterday, I found
the muscle to push a Brillo Pad
around the electrical plates of my hob cooker, the collage of caked overspills
from cooking from every shade of brown to black needed removal after my sister
in the States could not ignore the state of my stove. Today, I got the leg of
lamb that I bought on Tuesday out of the fridge and cooked it. The overspill
will be seen to, as the stove cools down.
Amid all this, my
lover and I constrained by many things work hard communicating our affection
for each other in anticipation of this whole situation moving on and creating
the opportunity for us to meet up again. It was exactly a year ago that we met
up in Johannesburg for the second time and took a flight to Cape Town for an 18-day
holiday together. Gosh! I miss my man.
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