I don’t know about you, but for me, these last few weeks have both encouraged and confounded. The divisiveness we experienced in Canada around Covid vaccinations in January and February was disheartening and frustrating. But as order was restored, numbers were also shifting (positive tests, % vaccinated, hospitalizations, deaths) such that restrictions began to be lifted. Prematurely, some of us suspect; too many at once, we’d argue; and many of us are wearing our masks anyway. Still, most of us seem to be poking our heads a bit further out of our shells than they’ve been for months and months. As have I.
This pandemic having played havoc with my efforts to strengthen social connections here in the city, I’ve been so exultant with new possibilities that I signed up for a weekly live Zumba class at a nearby community centre and joined a group of Women Over 55 for a weekly walk along the paths of an urban forest park. Back in December, I’d already begun volunteering once a week at the cultural centre where I take my Italian lessons. And, of course, there’s the weekly Italian class itself. And a once-monthly Zoom Italian book club meeting.
As well, having suspended all non-essential self-care appointments, I’ve finally made a date with the optometrist and will soon spend time shopping for new frames. Got my brows and upper lip “threaded.” And, as you can probably envision, marked up my calendar’s daily squares pretty thoroughly.
There’s more. With restrictions lifted, and other countries revving up their tourism, the sketching workshop I signed up for three years ago has finally been re-scheduled, and Pater and I are planning a trip built around that. Rome and Sicily, all very exciting, and, as anyone who has planned a trip knows, requiring more than a few hours of research and then on-line booking and confirming and grappling with uncooperative reservation platforms.
Embracing all the hopeful new possibilities, in other words, after two years of insecurity and separation, some anxiety, some depression (yes, minimal relatively speaking, but still felt. Still felt). Recognizing that one might have jumped into too much at once — busy! tired! — but still, all the possibilities, exhilarating.
And then this war in/on Ukraine. . . I’m not going to try to write about this here. It’s too much; I’d be flirting with banality. Other writers, activists, journalists are addressing context, circumstances, complexities, consequences, resources, possible responses. Here, now, I only want to register this particular mixture of events and phenomena that have me — and you, perhaps? — teetering, guilty of hope or hoping guiltily. We evaluated, during all those long patient months. We set goals and learned that un-setting goals could be valuable as well. Sorted priorities. All those lives lost, our healthcare systems torn, caregivers worn.
This is one of those posts that I’ve begun thinking I’d just quickly say why I’m not in the mood for writing much — and then next I know I’ve pulled myself through a few paragraphs of trying to figure something out. Because you can be such good listeners, at least so you seem as I scrabble away at this keypad.
That said, though, this is as far as I’m going to go for the moment. Mostly, I wanted to send something out today because days have lapsed since my last post, but I’ve been busy. Too busy, I think, and I’m going to have to do something about that. But meanwhile, even in the non-busy moments, I haven’t had the wherewithal for stringing words together.
So I started this post today with the idea that I’d just share a couple of journal pages. I sketched them this morning, instead of trying to wrangle sentences digitally. That medium suited my mood better, more tangible, finite, reassuring.
We had our Nine and Seven here for a few hours today (Spring Break and their parents were both working), and it was noisy for the first hour. Happy noise, for the most part, but noisy nonetheless. And then there was an excursion (doughnuts; scavenger hunt in the building; library; grocery store), then a few rounds of Crazy Eights, and finally the Seven settled in for a solo session of Bananagrams and the Nine found a spot on the couch with her current “favourite book ever.”
A few minutes later, she poked her head out of the pages, looked around the room — her brother making his grid of letter tiles, her grandfather reading his book, her Nana doing Italian homework at the table — and she said, “Whoa, It’s almost too quiet.” Paused for effect — the girl has timing — “I like it!” and back into her novel she disappeared.
I’m still pondering that wisdom. So I’ll just add those journal pages here, and you can let me know, if you have a minute for breaking your own quiet, if anything I’ve said about this strange transition period resonates.
xo,
f
I like it too!
Brava for all of your hobbies!
It was always utterly difficult to plan all activities and not to be overwhelmed or unscheduled and especially now! Friends,acquaintances, craftmen,bussines meetings ….either work or play….very complicated to arrange. People used to be more free and not prone to comitments or to sacrifice time during lock down and this is kind of norm now
Dottoressa
Author
I tell myself change is good for us, but these transitions . . . 😉
Still, it’s good to be able to do things we haven’t done for a while.
You’ve put into words what I’ve been feeling. And yes, too busy (mostly happy busy) to string together words. Spent over a month taking care of the grands daily because omicron had disrupted their pre-school and their parents were working from home. So it definitely was not quiet here. And now planning a long delayed trip. Hoping nothing upsets these plans this time around. Love your sketch of the vase full of flowers.
Author
Oh, that’s a lot, daily care of pre-schoolers for a month. I know that you feel fortunate you can do this for your grandkids, but it’s still tiring. Crossing my fingers for you that the trip works out. And thanks, re the sketch.
You sound so happy and hopeful in this post, Frances. That’s how I felt yesterday and the day before that. Happy, hopeful, downright sprightly. I think it was the sun and warmer temperatures for me. Yesterday I walked with a friend in my light jacket and ended up tying it around my waist. Felt wonderful. No travel plans for us. Not yet.
Author
I’m pleased to hear I managed to project that, Sue. There are definitely shadings to the happiness and hope, but overall there’s absolutely some sprightliness 😉
I saw a photo of you in your Spring green cashmere hoodie (Instagram, I think) — it’s happening, even out your way. . .
It certainly feels that way here, what with spring making itself felt with light mornings and bright days. I am making concerted efforts to slow things down and quell my anxieties with small and meaningful actions. Like, for instance, not waking up to world news but to music instead. Spring cleaning and having a clear out. Most of all, tackling my habit of catastrophizing – so easy at the moment to tumble down a terrible rabbit hole of horrors, all of which are out of my control. Rome and Sicily. How totally wonderful.
I can relate to your struggles. Spring in coastal California has a complicated feel to it, lovely, but drought persists, which adds an unexpected anxiety to sunny days. I’ve tried to curtail news in the morning too, which can feel overwhelming. As for catastrophizing, I’m glad I’m not the only one. Working to control what I can, walking every day, writing morning pages, staying in touch with friends. A bit more cautious in terms of getting out, as I’m caring for an elderly parent and immuno-compromised, but trying to keep a healthy perspective. Not planning travel yet, at least not for fun, but hope to soon. Reminding myself that the world is a beautiful place. It can feel dangerous and so sad at times, but there is always beauty and possibility. Good to remember.
Author
Much wisdom here, Wendy — thank you. There is “always beauty and possibility,” and it’s important to remember.
Author
The small, meaningful actions are keeping me grounded as well. I can do the catastrophizing — “terrible rabbit hole of horrors,” truth! — if I’m not paying attention, but a quick unrolling of the yoga mat has been helping.
Seeing the beginnings of Spring brings feelings of hope in spite of the dire state of the world. I went to a local nature preserve yesterday, took a walk to the shore and back, along a meadow still in hibernation. Sat for a while near a pool ,listening to the birds, just allow3ing myself this time of just being. The other wonderful things was a call from my son, inviting me to join the family to the Botanical garden for a glorious orchid show, seeing the family together now that granddaughter is home from college.
Author
Those both sound like joyous and rejuvenating occasions — how great to be together with your family, college-aged granddaughter and all!
Hi Frances – coincidentally after months of not drawing anything a few days ago I did a sketch of narcissi I had in a vase – but would never attempt the shadows – too hard. I have a half-day watercolour class in a week or so and am slightly worried I will have forgotten how to draw ! I love your journaling and sketching style, it really captures the essence and spirit of your adventures.
Your feelings around transitioning back to normal life post-Covid do resonate, I have missed the small social interactions that I did not appreciate were so much a part of keeping my own spirits lifted – people watching in a cafe, office chat, trips without interminable paperwork etc.
With the war in Ukraine ongoing, I do have some guilt about enjoying these new freedoms, but I don’t feel that I can add any useful comment to what is happening in Ukraine instead by way of support I donate money and hope that peace and reason will prevail.
So good to hear that you are able to go back out into the world and bravo for squeezing in writing in between grandparenting duties, Zumba, and Italian classes not to mention walking 12k. Once again I should take a leaf out of your book because I know that it is often the thought of writing that creates paralysis – when just getting some words on the page is never as hard as you think.
Is Sunday evening here in Edinburgh – a weekend of 2 glorious sunny but cold days and we have been out in the garden – a few daffodils emerging, the forsythia with buds emerging and my tulips seem to have survived despite the squirrel’s sabotage.
Thanks to your introduction – I am now hooked on Elly Griffiths Dr. Ruth Galloway series, I read Lantern Men then Night Hawks, and have now gone back to the first book to fill in the back story.
A bit of a rambling reply, as always I enjoy your posts and Instagram observations.
Hello Margaret
I couldn’t resist waving and saying hi when I saw you were in Edinburgh. I’m about an hour south of there in the Borders. And I read all of Elly Griffiths novels last year. Do you live in Edinburgh? I was there on Friday sitting in Princes St. Gardens and enjoying a warm day.
Author
Love seeing readers wave at each other here. Especially when they’re reminding me of sitting in sunshine (November/December sunshine, but still) in Edinburgh. . . 😉
Hi Elaine
Sorry for the delay – I tend to check on my favourite blogs on a Sunday.
Yes I do live in Edinburgh & now hooked in Elly Griffith & her interesting life !
I am still working full time so am an intermittent poster but nice to say hello 👋
We have had some lovely Spring weather recently
Margaret
Author
Love it! There we are drawing daffs together! The shadows aren’t tricky at all, as long as you give yourself ample permission, as I do. . .
Not rambling at all — I’m glad to catch up with you. I’m pleased to hear you’re enjoying our Dr. Galloway — I think the first book might be one of the best, actually, don’t you?
It ALL resonates with me! The hopeful new possibilities, the hoping guiltily, the wisdom of granddaughters! I love your journal and that sketching workshop sounds intriguing.
In October I’m (🤞) going to be doing a mosaic workshop in Ravenna that was booked three years ago!
Thanks for such a brilliant post! It made my day😊
Author
Thanks for the kind words. Oh, that workshop in Ravenna! Wonderful opportunity! Do you make mosaics already or is this a new project? I’ve not yet been to Ravenna, but just finished a book about Timothy Parks and his wife following the path of Garibaldi’s tortuous trek there (with his forces) after being rousted from Rome in 1848. And I’ve heard that it’s a beautiful city to explore.
I do make mosaics but I’m sure I’ll be learning a lot during the week there😄 and the city does look like a fascinating place to explore.
Your post also prompted/inspired me to do my first time ever sketching course online…so thank you
I do like your painting Frances & it illustrates that sometimes the shadows in life give depth to the experience
Author
Very true, Wendy! They help us see the light, as it were. . .
You have captured the heady disorientation of the return of a level of busyness that was once habitual. My “busyness muscle” has atrophied; for example, though we can go to the cinema again, I’ve come to enjoy the ease of watching films at home. Even the “finally!” activities require more thought and planning.
Members of our extended family are immigrants with multiple Slavic origins; we are all active in aid activities.