It’s been a tough week.
My anxiety levels have been high; even when I think I’m doing okay there is still a constant, underlying sense of unease and unrest. I’ve not slept much. It’s difficult not to despair and wonder what the point of anything is right now anyway. As a freelancer it’s hard to find commissioned work at this time with COVID-19 dominating the media, as a performance poet it’s hard to find the motivation to write when all my upcoming features will likely be cancelled anyway.
It’s hard not to worry, to panic, to try and grasp control of anything we can at this time. It’s hard to focus, to concentrate, to not check news updates and social media a thousand times a day no matter how unhelpful it is for our mental health.
Most of all, it’s hard to find hope.
We’re all in survival mode. It’s exhausting. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. We don’t know when this will end. We don’t know how to define our normal anymore. Everything is so uncertain.
But I went for a walk on the beach today. The wind was fierce, the ocean stirred up. I remembered today is the Autumnal Equinox and that an old farmer once told me about the equinox winds that blow every year in March and September; the sending out of one season, the ushering in of another.
It reminded me that all things are made new; that this is how the universe has always worked. That for new life to be born there must always be death; the dropping of leaves, the exploding of stars, the falling of blossom to make way for fruit, the fading of night before a new day can begin.
Suffering has always been part of the narrative. There is much we don’t understand. But we are part of something so much bigger than we can see. It’s easy to feel small, and lost, and alone, and afraid right now. We can’t see the bigger picture. But we can keep showing up in love, and hope, and kindness anyway knowing every second, every breath, is grace.
Knowing sometimes we have to endure the suffering to witness the transformation.