From Inside a Bubble

Sat at a desk in the corner of a luxury hotel room, classical music playing on the quirky box radio alongside me, it is easy to float away on your imagination. Float to a time and place hovering somewhere between historical and romance novel. As I write, I would like to inhabit that time and place, far from social media, news headlines and scavenging supermarket customers. 

It’s not from a desire to deny all that is happening or to be adopting a head in the sands approach, for we deliberated a fair amount before going ahead with this trip away. Having booked it at the start of the year, to celebrate a special anniversary, we were indeed torn and in somewhat of a quandary about the wisdom of proceeding. August this year will mark 30 years of marriage for us and this break was partly in recognition of that fact and partly planned for the two of us to grab some time together ‘far from the maddening crowd’ to quote Thomas Hardy - a most eloquent expression of how it feels right now.

To focus on each other and the inner calm that is blossoming as we settle into our temporary surroundings, is just what is needed for both of us. I have actively put my phone to one side in an attempt to disengage from the world, albeit for just a few short days. I have not had the space to focus like this for a while and I think this ‘centering’ process can only ultimately be positive. There’s jazz playing now - we have moved to the lounge bar. There’s an abundance of plush armchairs and soft lighting. I have closed my eyes to allow it all to be absorbed - the ambience of a touch of decadence. Oh how I wish I could bottle it and take a sip in times of stress and worry. Right now, that feels like a much more attractive proposition than the failed quest for hand sanitiser.

The world seems a particularly scary place and yet, simultaneously, this insidious threat has highlighted how interconnected we actually are. Sure, we can focus on the statistics and the selfishness of those who seem to have adopted a’first come, first served’ attitude, but fear is obviously the driving force behind it all. A fear of what might happen next, who may fall ill and of loosing control of all that was previously taken for granted in our lives. Our routines, our work and home life, our social activities. I can not control any of that and so I guess, a few days attempting not to confront it, makes little difference in the grand scheme of things. Instead, I am writing and imagining characters, plots and scenarios. 

The hotel has a long and varied history and is surrounded by vast parklands. Scattered throughout the building are little nods to its history: artefacts, pictures, fixtures and fittings to conjure up the past. A costume drama or murder mystery would not be out of place here. I find myself wondering how the plot would play out, if I began to write one. 

When pen is put to paper, it often has no clear objective or ending in sight and I trust that the flow of words will fulfill both. Sadly our time within this bubble will soon end but it will have achieved a few objectives - those of relaxation, celebration and appreciation. As a bonus offshoot, it has given me a chance to channel energy into writing and to regain some perspective as to where else that may take me. Whatever else may be ahead for us all is too scary and too vast to dwell upon, so perhaps for me, it is best to write. We can all only take one day at a time at the moment and I’ll just write my story one page at a time.

Sunshine and Spa Days.

This week has seen me trying something new, which may not seem like much to others but whenever you decide to have a new experience but you’re confidence levels are generally low, it can take a lot to face the unknown. Though this was to be a treat, a way to relax and unwind, I had never been to a spa or had a treatment and so did not know what to expect. A generous thought from a close friend, as a way to have some ‘me time’ - I was set to embrace this as a chance to escape the everyday and to switch off. So, with the odd anxiety about what would follow, we set off for the chance to swim, steam, read, relax and be spoilt with a facial.

As it turned out, I don’t know why I was even anxious about it, but perhaps it’s still those issues I have under the surface of having a poor body image or feeling that for some reason, I don’t deserve to be part of a luxurious lifestyle - if only for an afternoon. That is when you need the support of a husband who is telling you to go have fun and don’t worry about spending a little on yourself to make a nice memory. When you need the comfort of a friend going with you who you know won’t be judging what you look like in your swimsuit and who knows exactly how much you need the experience to just unwind from recent events.

Now a month into my writing adventure- the term I have chosen to call my career break, and I am slowly starting to get my head around my feelings about it and finding a way to organise my time, my responsibilities to family, the dog and the household. I have actually found that it is often half way through the afternoon and I think that I haven’t begun to write again and I wonder how I possibly juggled everything around going to work every day too. Friends ask how things are going and mostly I have positive answers. I have had some days when the outlook has seemed dark but generally, I feel that I am walking towards the sunshine. To do this, I have had to make readjustments in my expectations and so start to find my own way.

Back to the spa afternoon and it has to be said that there is a lot of merit in just doing something new and different. Laying in the darkened treatment room, with calming music playing to match the mood of relaxation, I felt a complete slowing down of both body and soul. Mindfulness has had a lot of press and at times seems a somewhat mocked buzzword but just being in that moment, I could almost imagine my worries and stresses wrapping themselves up in little packages and shipping themselves off to a far flung island. It is certainly an experience I would be happy to repeat.

Somehow, as a Mum, I seem to have been programmed into an inherent belief that there is no place for your own relaxation and self-preservation. Always quick to drop everything to come to the aid of my children or to help out friends or family, it is almost a guilty act to put all such demands on hold and indulge yourself in luxury.
However, having juggled commitments so that I could have that time, I not only found myself refreshed but more able to commit to my writing and to face the ongoing demands of my new daily life with renewed determination. The complete feeling of relaxation seeped through every pore and lasted into the next day, where I had a revelation, a writing revelation. With the mists of self-doubt clearing, I began to write and to enjoy reading back my offerings to the page.

I have a real writing project before me and a clear space to sit in to write it, surrounded by little comforts. Those objects you collect as a Mum that bring a warm memory to mind and a smile to the face. A pebble collected on a beach day with the children which they decorated for Daddy. A couple of favourite photos of the children from many years ago. A writing notice board with quotes and images to inspire and, if I am honest, a nod to the teacher that is still lurking within me for I always liked a board with plans on - just ask anyone that shared a classroom with me! I also have a selection of snazzy stationery nearby, as everybody knows that a writer needs stationery - it’s like a diamond for a diva, the sweet treats within a patisserie or the promise of a toy when you can choose something with the pocket money Grandma gave you clinking in your pocket.

Sitting in my writing space, with a newly found direction, I am at liberty to let the process flow. In recent weeks I have learnt to let this happen, often when walking the dog in the park and feeling the sunshine on my face I have had the best results. Though not able to actually write any of that down at that point in time, it is those moments of touching base with nature - away from the mundane, that the creativity has been sparked.

So I’m developing myself a writing habit and a lifestyle mantra, to help when days seem dark. Write something every day for to do so will eventually find a gem worth keeping. As for a determination to keep going, I have been served well by one quote shared with me by a friend that has truly touched a chord:

“Keep your face always toward the sunshine, and shadows will fall behind you.”

Walt Whitman

If I may be so indulgent to make my own interpretation, I must keep on having walks in the sunshine and another spa day or two.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

I drove behind a hearse today, after dropping my daughter at work. Just one vehicle amongst the traffic, a simple coffin with no floral adornment - most probably empty as there was no reverential slow speed being observed by the driver as it left the roundabout by the crematorium. That’s a place I’ve been to with increasing regularity, sadly. As you get to a certain age it becomes more likely that you meet friends and extended family at funerals rather then weddings and of course, there is a certain spot in the gardens where we visit to think of my Dad. There, with a clipped lawn and often a blue sky, a small numbered plaque marks his resting place - the officialdom of a final act. I prefer to think of Dad at other times, in other places, from the corners of your mind where the sepia-coloured memories glow like discarded embers from a comforting fire. If you try really hard, you can sometimes push enough embers together to spark a brightness from the past, almost to the point that you have to catch yourself and remember that he is no longer here.

So to return to following the hearse, on a January morning with a sky full of the blues and greys that start a wintery day. I was jolted by the image from my thoughts of my day ahead, the mundane mental list: cleaning, shopping, dog walking, trying to sort clutter to build myself a writing nest. Jolted instead into thinking about what it all means. That’s a very big question when you’ve only just surfaced from the security of your bedroom covers. Particularly today. Today had been one of those days when I had contemplated driving my daughter to work whilst still wearing my pyjamas- something I have never done and something I can assure you would not look like the glamorous yummy Mummies portrayed in a certain car advert! No, today, I had thrown on sloppy clothes, given my face a cursory look in the mirror and thought “that shit will have to do - I can fix it later.”

Looking at the hearse before me, I was struck by how small the coffin appears and how, as may well be the case for some, the stark, bare box seems such an insignificance. Dad’s funeral was so well attended that there was literally standing room only but I’ve seen others with a handful of mourners and there must be some endings where no-one sheds a tear and it’s all a matter of paperwork. Is a person’s mark upon the earth measured by the size of the final crowd that they draw?

To avoid sliding down this somewhat gloomy spiral with such thoughts, the jolt I had as I drove my usual route back home was more connected to the beginning I have made. That inner voice that we all have (I presume we all have it) began its own monologue reinforcing my decision to resign my post, to embark upon my writing, to persevere with this somewhat haphazard situation that I have created for myself. They say that you only regret the things that you didn’t do. That, and other such clichés came to mind and then, out of nowhere and with no predetermined mission to do so today, this blog piece begins to form in my head. I park on the drive, grab my laptop and head back to bed where the writing sanctuary of our newly constructed loft space allows me to think. High up, metaphorically and literally, I am away from the mundane. Looking out of the two Velux windows to one side, I see the treetops and the clouds rolling by, whilst the large window to the other side of the bed affords a vista across the rooftops to the town beyond. Though not the picturesque seascape I yearn for, as a frustrated novelist with idealistic intentions, the mere space extending on to the distant horizon and the time to sit here looking at it, is a calming opportunity and conducive to creative thoughts.

Thoughts have been my friends and my enemies lately. They are the necessary mechanism for my creativity to flourish and I have yet to allow myself to fully immerse myself in them, for to find enough distraction free time for that process still seems an elusive commodity- but it is early days. Those same early days have allowed thoughts in that start to sow the seeds of anxiety and self-doubt. When given any chance to do so they grow into emotional and sometimes irrational seedlings that need cutting down before they take root. There have been a few days when they have done their best to do so. I can picture them as I write, within a tray in a gardener’s potting shed with their labels neatly scribed upon them “this is a farce,” and “what are you actually doing” being the main plant names. So far though, I am managing them, as my cousin, who is a horticulturist, once advised - the best thing is to do a little of something in the garden every day. So I’m tending my mind garden! 

When all is said and done, we are in control of the marks we make upon a page and those which remain as a legacy for others to reference in the future. If you can no longer control part of your life, make changes to it - walk away, try again, switch it up a bit, whatever is necessary to start making things work. You can’t do it on your own, so look around for help - I have been surprised and struck by the number of people willing to offer their support and it manifests itself in so many different ways. Sometimes it needs to be actions that make a difference to your day. Sometimes words need to be said, and I don’t always want to hear them, but those that matter, know when I need to hear them.

Today is a good day, from starting as a day that felt anything but a good day. Inspiration for writing comes from the strangest places - I cannot explain it and will not begin to try. I will carry on with my mundane, my mindful moments and my inner monologue - for on days like this, I think she’s got something worth listening to!