Happy new year! Here’s to love, connection and time with those we love.

 2021 we had such hopes for you. But we should have known by then. Covid was a constant backdrop to our lives. Vaccines offered so much hope with good reason and yet freedom did not feel secure. Plans were rarely more than tentative. We delayed bookings and failed to rebook until later in the year. A summer plan became autumn and instead of warmth we had the glory of Scotland’s colours, rust brown and gold trees called out to us. Look we are here they say, and we hold our presence as your calling. 

Scotland you own us with your beauty and your message of ‘you are home’ speaks straight to our souls. These souls starved of touch, of company of comfort and of love. How could we resist your promise of presence, of the comfort of the familiar, of safety we assumed but ultimately who can promise so much in such times of uncertainty. 

As Christmas approached we thought, this year will offer so much. Christmas with family and New Year with friends exploring new territory, new traditions, new plans. But covid had the omicron variant up its sleeve. No smug acceptance of our future after all. Maybe you are milder, I do hope so. But the truth is the management of omicron is less about us as individuals but about the challenge for communities, organisations, the wider public health. The reactions from people range from who cares to recognising that  it’s vital to go upstream and protect the existing community. 

What future do we seek we ask? Is it  everyone for themselves or is it that this is a shared challenge and shared responsibility.to find the end to the challenge of covid. My sense is that this will not end properly until we accept the need to think community rather than self. So my biggest hope for 2022 is happier and healthier communities and individuals. 

So welcome 2022.My hope is that we see more of our loved family and friends, we miss you. And if covid has taught us anything, it’s that what matters most is love, connection and time together. 

Happy new year all. Stay safe and well and make time for those you love. 

See you next year! 

Audrey 

For Rosa

 

For Rosa

Rosa,her smile tells stories

straight to the heart.

She speaks in two languages;

signing illustrating her emotions,

spoken words the context 

for us who are awed by her.

That stride off to nursery

with no hesitation.

She knows none of the 

fear her parents hold.

But for noticing that

they hold her a little too tight.

Omicron-a benign name

Like a young sister of a unicorn maybe?

Magical almost- except-except

The truth is that it’s another viral variant

Spreading its tentacles across

our city, the country, the world a renewed threat

to our lives and our well-being.

For Rosa much of her life so far

has danced between the full colour version

then back to the greyed out 

Lockdown version.

Play boxed away into homes

Fearful of a virus that doesn’t 

only change lives-it threatens to take life.

There’s the fear, not captured in Rosas short memory

but for her Mum and Dad its very real

sitting by her bed.

An orchestra of sounds and light

the hospital machines symphonies

tell of laboured breath

and blue lights.

It’s just an extra chromosome after all?

But every time the virus rises up

So does the fear.

It’s only a mild illness -for you maybe!

Why bother with masks or isolating?

It’s for that smile.

It’s for life in all its colours.

It’s for Rosa. 

Always look on the bright side of life….I tried,honestly!

 I decided yesterday to write a blog on what has been the impact of becoming a disabled person in an ableist world. And the truth is sometimes I forget how much I have had to give up, adapt, accept and buy to keep going in a positive way. Why positive, you may ask? Because I can’t live my life focussed on negatives as that takes a brutal toll on my mental health. I know this as I was stuck in that place earlier this year, with an internal black dog facing constant pain and an external context of evident climate crisis and a pandemic still being measured by excess deaths. I’m fortunate in that I have an internal reset button that helps me feel so grateful for the wonderful people I have in my life and the stability of an income that enables me to buy things that make me more comfortable. And to survive well, quite frankly, you need both. 

This week I’ve just bought two mobility scooters! I started on my journey with mobility scooters just before my spinal operation in June 2018. I was so grateful to feel again a sense of independence and the wind in my hair as I could enjoy ‘walking’ with family and friends. But the battery went quickly on this second hand scooter and recently the one I replaced it with kept stopping after any bump and leaving me vulnerable and abandoned. 

I learn constantly what I need and so far there is no one scooter that does it all. I need one that I can get around locally in Edinburgh, which protects my unstable spine but also one that I can get in a car so if I need to go further afield I have a device that allows me to move around once I arrive. A painful and inflamed wrist means I have huge difficulty with manual wheelchairs. Hence I grasped part of my savings for a rainy day ( accepting that this is a deluge) and bought the devices I hope will see me through for some time. 

I moved back to Edinburgh more than ten years ago and before any diagnosis of spinal damage. 

In part because Edinburgh has an excellent bus network that is used by all sectors of society. Our plan was to be able to reduce our reliance on a car, little knowing that our dependence on cars was to increase dramatically in just a few years. Mobility scooters are currently not allowed on buses in Lothian and in most parts of the UK. Future designs of buses will look at this issue we are told but that will not be for some time. Yet another example of being disabled by the world around me but frankly the tip of the iceberg. 

When it comes to meeting needs for disabled people, it’s never top priority. And yes, you are right even when ( DDA 1995 followed by Equality Act 2010) laws are passed, on so many occasions the law is broken without redress and people’s lives are reduced as a result. And yet again people like me feel less valuable, hidden away by societal structures and mores that assume it’s OK to exclude and be ‘othered’ by the able who assume ( wrongly) that it wont be them sometime. 

I bought my bigger scooter to negotiate pavements that are not designed for the frail and those with impaired mobility. Dropped pavements where they exist are also rarely properly designed so negotiating a trip in an urban area is usually full of frustration, pain and resignation around what can’t be done. 

But I took the new scooter out yesterday full of hope of smoother trips and I wasn’t disappointed-until trying to negotiate shops and cafes. Many I just can’t get in at all and/or have doors that can’t be negotiated to open and those I can get in are blighted by floor clutter, especially as we approach Christmas. Anyone with sight impairment or requiring a mobility aid is doubly disabled. Almost without exception every person I encounter is kind and tries their best to help and mutters apologies endlessly as they help me negotiate safer paths or provide a personal service at the door. So for all the many good folk who ask how they can help, I salute you!! But it’s the example again of how much as a society we put profit before people.

 It’s said we can get the true measure of a society by how it treats its most vulnerable. Frankly as a society the UK will not be be judged well in how it serves its most vulnerable citizens. And what I have described today is a tiny part of a whole that leaves each day a challenge that with different priorities and attitudes could be very different. 

Right I’ve said it….off to negotiate another day and as my sister-in-law would say “Always look on the bright side of life” …….

In search of Healing

Difference Between Healing and Curing

                                                                             

I read this article today and it really resonated for me. It’s perhaps because I’ve been stuck recently. Stuck in the sense that a flare up in pain had stopped me sleeping and that in turn had tipped my equilibrium. I was buried by my many health issues, trying to find an escape route. Sleep loss and feeling low meant that I forgot about ways to escape and mostly put my hopes in medication to re-establish some balance for me. Anyone living with chronic pain knows it’s much more complex than that. I know that how we react to and interact with pain is complex and yet I was clinging to the myth of the magic bullet to fix me.

And perhaps worst of all I’d lost my joy in life. 

Reaching out for support recently has really helped me re calibrate. I now can see again what makes life special and I’m being kinder to myself. But as with anyone who lives with cancer knows, we have had to let go of certainty about our health. In truth that certainty for anyone is a myth, but having a diagnosis of cancer means the worry never goes. Of course it waxes and wanes but recently it’s been to the fore for me. Worry feeds worries and I realised that I had set that hare running too. It’s exhausting! I’ve learned over many years to manage the balance between legitimate vigilance ( I do have the BRCA2 gêne after all) and losing peace of mind, worrying about every little thing. But inevitably I don’t always find the sweet spot between the two. Who could? 

The article above explores what healing is and while I don’t necessarily think that serious illness leads to huge epiphanies or that wisdom follows life changing surgery or chemotherapy; I have noticed that I experience life in glorious colour and feel deep gratitude for who and what make my fragile life special. ‘Healing is the most fundamental aspect of our condition, and it's a continuous rediscovery of what it means to be alive………..It is about living with the ongoing stresses and strains and difficulties -- and joys -- of life, but doing so in a way that we feel whole.’ It’s not numbing feelings, it’s putting an arm around then and accepting them as part of you. For me, that’s oh so easy to say but years of denying my fatigue has made me skilled at ignoring feelings and pushing through. It was the only way I knew how. I’m grateful I have learned to do it differently now and showing myself compassion is something more recent and so very welcome. Allowing myself to be seen, scars and all is work in progress. But if I look at who I’m most drawn to in life, it is the people who are comfortable with all of who they are and they don’t hide or feel shame if life is challenging. That self knowledge takes time and won’t ever be perfect but that’s ok too. 

Thé final Line in the article says : 

‘Living in relationship with the struggles of life is what makes us human.’ And I would add, what makes us interesting, beautiful in our own way and  brings a healing, and a peace of mind. I’d say right now, I’m work in progress. My deepest thanks and love to all of you who support me through .

Through the eyes of a child.

 

                                                                                             York Minster 

We should all see the world through the eyes of a three year old. It’s an exciting place full of opportunity and wonder. It’s a world where firing a nerf blaster at your birthday guests can fill the room with all our laughter. But it’s also a world where what you remember most from a trip to York, that took in the Railway Museum and a Viking Centre, are the bells of York Minster. Even at three years of age we know what a rare beauty that is. Our Grandson’s life and vocabulary expands daily and its joyful to watch. He got every kind of vehicle for his birthday, even emergency ones that made their own siren noise! If Eskimos have 50 words for snow, then he has a similar number that make car brrrroom noises. It’s even magical to see him play with toys that were once his father’s, especially super ted whose super powers live in the imagination of the children who have loved him. What an amazing world this is when you live in a nice house, have plenty to eat and money for toys and trips away. 

But what of those who don’t? What of the 5.5 million people for example, who stand to lose the £20 so-called uplift of universal credit, with 0.5 million of them plunging into poverty, 200,000 of them are children. Children whose birthdays will be very different to the one we have just celebrated. The government knew the rate of universal credit was too low, hence the recognition that the additional £20 was crucial to avert even more distress during a pandemic. The truth is it was always too low. Food bank use declined when people had enough money to feed themselves. 

                                                                                                Hunger queues

And this is not a problem of unemployment, 60% of those affected are in work. It’s a problem of poor working conditions and low pay. And it’s a lack support for disabled people - disabled by a world that doesn’t accommodate their needs, for both physical and mental health. Ours is a rich country crippled by staggering inequalities. It is to our collective shame if we allow people to starve while others thrive. The government must integrate the £20 into universal credit. As the recently appointed UN rapporteur on extreme poverty in the UK said it would be ‘unconscionable’ to remove the money that is so evidently needed and  ‘incompatible with Britain’s obligation to protect its citizens’ rights to an adequate standard of living’. Strong words and so they should be.

I can’t imagine how it feels to be unable to feed your family. But my grandparents knew that feeling. It’s not so far away really. I don’t know how politicians, knowing the impact of removing the £20, can even think to enact it. I don’t know how they could look their own children in the eye and say we deliberately made children starve. How could they even sleep at night? 

How can we if we do nothing?

Walking each other home?

 I used to have a list of places I really wanted to visit.Like the Himalaya, Canada and the Rockies, and I would also dream of returning to Orkney, France, Italy, Switzerland, to our balcony looking at the Rila mountains and so on and so on. Perhaps the whole family could tour together and then take a villa to reflect and recover. I was rarely short of ideas, more commonly just short of cash! And I would of course be walking in the hills, through wildflowers and diving into cool wild waters to be refreshed until the sun dipped and we were also cool enough to eat. In those times I was unencumbered by pain, disability and fatigue. My body was symmetrical at lease, more rounded than I was ever happy with but didn’t let me down too often. Did I take these times for granted? Perhaps but I always felt gratitude that my life had allowed me to explore more of the world than my parents generation did. And I didn’t expect it to change as soon as it did. I’m from the baby boomer generation who thought things would get even better for our children. 

What did we know? I have a Masters in Public Health so maybe I should have been more open to possibility of the pandemic in our lifetime but no, I ignored that like so many other warnings our generation ignored. 

When the virus spread its deadly path accross the globe I was fascinated, reading everything i could to understand its impact on us. And then the fear crept in. It tilted my equilibrium until it was hard to hold on to my own well worn coping strategies. I had many many dreams about working as a nurse in a dystopian world that was no longer predictable. And then I would realise that I was in my wheelchair…..

The strange thing is, I didn’t even waken then. I know there is part of me still waiting to wake up.

 But if it hadn’t been real what wisdom would now be lost? That introverts didn’t mind lockdown? Or that people would feel the need to hoard loo roll in some distorted relationship with poo? That people would start the pandemic applauding the healthcare teams but then get angry with them for not making it all go away. Maybe we would never realise that there is another way to organise work, at least for some or know that there would come a time when we would yearn to see our families, even the ones that usually drove us crazy. Would we understand fully the difference touch makes and that a hug from a loved one would trigger such depth of emotions? Would we realise that the pandemic induced combination of serious illness, fear, loss, separation and loneliness would create a tsunami of mental health issues that we are totally ill equipped to respond to. A public mental health crisis affecting all age groups was previously unknown. A medical model of addressing mental health in an individual is powerless in the face of societal change and deep seated inequalities. It’s overwhelming and part of me wants to hide away again, hide from the broken and powerless, in a world of Netflix and books, grasping on to such low expectations it’s impossible to be disappointed. But hiding takes energy, energy I want to use differently. And hiding from reality doesn’t facilitate good health. 

I know I’m not alone in my mental health challenges and yet I’ve struggled to be open about them.  I’ve found writing hard, meditation equally so. Working however has been a solace, an investment in the outside world and a way to help others. But there is risk in work being the answer, some of it maybe- but not all. So I’m redirecting my sails to find a better way through this coming storm, however it manifests. 

My middle name is Love ( a surname from the past ). I’ve always been a bit embarrassed by it  because of the teasing it triggered as a child. As I’m just a few months away from collecting my pension and I think now I need to fully embrace the gift of my middle name. So from now on you can call me……..No!.. not love, just Audrey or even Auds as some of my family do. And I instead will give thanks for the reminder of the central role that love needs to play in my (our)  life. I know we can’t really love until we love ourselves and that’s life’s journey. In a pivotal point of this pandemic I am looking back and forward to remind myself in this moment of what a precious journey life is.

Are you awake?

 It’s August already, the second year of the COVID-19 pandemic. Who would have predicted these recent times. These times of isolation, fear, uncertainty and our lives changed for ever. A time that will divide the past from the future. Much of our restrictions in Scotland are now lifted but it would hard to describe it as normal. And what does that mean, that word, normal? Is it simply that good or bad, it’s familiar, a predictable rhythm over the year? Or is it that it doesn’t trigger a stress reaction anymore and however grim, it’s the new reality and we recognise it. So much so that many of us reach quickly for a mask or resist busy places and avoid public transport. The trajectory of normal has shifted again and we look to the winter with suspicion.

Having lived through four cancer diagnosis and one of a benign spinal growth leading to severe pain and disability, I absolutely recognise the resilience of human beings and how we can adjust to the previously unthinkable. It does have an impact but we tend to keep going in the face of even life changing impacts. It’s a deep yearning for survival, even one with a future so different. We are reminded of life’s preciousness alongside recognising the vulnerability of what we once never questioned. 

Many of the stages of diagnosis, treatment and recovery during the pandemic has reminded me of cancer diagnoses and their impact. What I had previously experienced as an individual was now visible across populations. Denial, shock, fear, relief, anger- on repeat- for so many of us. The long term sequele are not simply physical but also emotional and social. There is so much evidence that surviving a diagnosis like cancer does not stop being impactful with a clear scan or a course of radiotherapy. And looking at the impact of COVID-19 we see widespread mental health issues, as well as the short and long COVID effects on physical health and social circumstance. From my experience the full impact doesn’t affect me until the crisis passes. So the timing is not even logical, just as it passes I find the reality almost overwhelming.

I have spoken before about turning to Maggies, the charity for people affected by cancer, after being treated for cancer. This has taught me the value of being with peers and built my self care through meditation and writing for example. So many charities offer support related to cancer but could any of their models be scaled up to population levels realistically? For a post pandemic population made sick by the pandemic and its management and isolation we will need societal responses. Striving for income equality, affordable homes and access to real food seems to me to be part of this. As developing self compassion, immune system support, a more nutritious diet, listening without judgment, practicing gratitude, building on social connections and communities will all need to be part of our recovery.

 And with skilled leadership and a shared dream this is possible. Communities, organisations, schools, universities, public bodies will all need to play a part in a shared vision for a healthy future. It’s so important that we don’t miss this awakening in our society of the need for change that of course didn’t only start with the pandemic. If we carry on as before we have an unhealthy population struggling with a challenging future. To do something needs wise and courageous leadership at community, local and national level and a population hungry for change that’s very different from our current offer. Each of us must accept that we too can make a difference, one person,one community at a times and in time our leaders will follow. 

After all what are we waiting for; for things to be normal, because honestly they won’t be. The sooner we get that, the better. And that’s not even factoring in climate change……a whole other epoch changing factor. Are we all awake yet????

When summer hurts.

 When Summer Hurts

Summer hurts 

Not sunburn

No, it’s heart burn

Heartsore, heart broken.

A summer of loss

A path untravelled

A climb unreached

A beach untrodden 

A Loch unexplored.

Images abound of this glorious time

from Scotland shimmering in the sun 

the beauty catches the breath,

attracting wild swimmers and 

free walkers taking in this marvellous land.

Searchers for a different world.

I long for these images

each one invites me

a vicarious traveller 

yearning to share it.

And still the loss digs into my soul.

I rail against my body.

I resent I can no longer trail

sandals in hand along those empty beaches

or walk the softly shaded woods,

they can no longer soothe my spirit.

Spontaneity of summer 

sucked dry with endless planning and

no access stumbles.

How can a simple trip

be so very arduous?

I don’t want your sympathy!

I want a world that invites me in,

that includes me, clumsy, in pain.

Not this one that makes it too easy to stay home,

no longer an embarrassing reminder

to a world where only

the well or able are needed or wanted.

These days I struggle to climb steps.

Trapped in or out of this home

that’s kept me safe from our virus laiden land 

and incompetent government.

Crossing a threshold I clutch my anxiety

wrapped in pain and grief.

Desperate to escape, desperate to hide.

One woman’s freedom, another’s prison.

Leave me alone.

Don’t leave me behind.

A paradox of need,

a push pull of relationships.

I need to speak to this loss

it’s as real as the cussedness

that fuels me day after day.

So summer please

Make room for us.

Those who are unwell, 

Who mourn a life, a future, a past.

Those who have lost their love,

their profession, their health.

We too crave the suns warmth,

we long to make memories

to lose anxiety and find peace.

We want to find the hope

in the summer light and feel it’s joy.

Let’s us in too, please-summer. 

Summer in Scotland

 

In Shetland it’s the simmer dim

a name that shimmers

like the light that hovers

between not yet dark

and not yet light.

Summer  edging forward,

vibrant colours

fill our skies

sunsets of fire,

never tire.

Scottish summers,

not about heat.

But about abundance

of stunning views

of soft whispering breezes.

It’s the machair 

defining the boundary

of  beach and sea.

Birds call a welcome,

gulls riding the currents.

I miss walking

our velvet paths

nothing to mind

but the passing of time

and the indulgence of the season.

I miss walking. 

Socially secure?

 

                                                                                            Charley Macksey

If I had worry beads, they would be down to the string just now. It’s not been an easy first half of the year. And I’m going to say straight away, I also know I’m very fortunate. I have so much that others start each day worrying about keeping. I don’t have to worry about finding a home or a job or even social isolation. But what we have had in the close family is a series of ill health, a horribly broken wrist and most recently covid has affected my grandson and his Mum and Dad. Thankfully we are on recovery paths now but it’s shaken us and also because it’s not been me who has been unwell for a change! Don’t get me wrong, I’ve a whole lot going on as ever but nothing unexpected or acute. 

We humans are amazingly flexible and resilient but we are also vulnerable. Not only can our bodies let us down but so can our society. During lockdown we have seen so many people lose their jobs. This is not only about income but also about how we see ourselves and often our self esteem. It is estimated that one in three of us is only two pay days away from homelessness. In the US and England it’s one pay day. That’s how quickly our fortunes can change. And what was once a social security system in the UK is now a benefit system. We are not socially secure when things happen. Be it illness, unemployment, retirement or relationship breakdowns; our worlds are rocked and our income so affected to be life changing. So many are not secure and foodbanks have only appeared and grown exponentially since the benefit changes, in particular universal credit. This is to our shame as a society and has a huge impact on our economy too. 

I really welcome the exploration of minimum income guarantee and universal basic income. We need more compassion in the system. And if voting behaviour is a sign, most people voted for quite fundamental change in society even setting aside the constitutional debate.

A National Care Service is one of them. Without a real concept of what that is, we know we need to see substantial improvement in our social care service. My generation has grown up with the NHS and for many they don’t understand where that ends and social care begins-until it affects them and their family. My husband is now my main carer. Friends and family do help when they can but in daily reality, it’s him. And recently he’s been unwell. I’ve felt guilty for my need and he’s felt overwhelmed too. We have got through but it’s left that residual worry. What would happen if…the if unsaid.

But the other day he raised ‘what would happen to you if I wasn’t here’. My first thought was he’s decided to run away! Who could blame him-second thought. Then reality settled on, he is thinking what if I died. Even to write that down triggers such anxiety and loss. My answer was I would pay as much as I could afford for care and get by. My inside thoughts were much more alarming. I would have more pain and anxiety. I would eat less well, I would be less well and I’d struggle to get out. I’d be unable to care for my dog without good support which would also be expensive. I’d be unable to work much at all unless it was all online. I would do what most disabled and frail people do; live a life compromised by a very poor or very expensive social care system. 

So my reality is I want a national care service for us all, that we invest in through a national form of insurance. I don’t want my husband to be exhausted, afraid to be ill and afraid to die, because life has dealt us some tough hands. I don’t want to feel afraid of my future, I want to be able to live my best life now. It shouldn’t be too much to hope for, should it?

Are we languishing or is it more than that?

 I recently read an article by the New York Times, recommended by a friend. We had been having a conversation about so many people describing a lower mood. Not a clinical depression but a greyed out life experience. A lack of energy for living. Not the black dog, more I can’t be bothered to walk the dog.

Perhaps you recognise this in yourself? I admit I did.

The article was describing this and said the term ‘Languishing’ had been captured to describe the state. Feeling Blah During the Pandemic? It's Called Languishing ...https://www.nytimes.com › Well › Mind

‘Languishing is a sense of stagnation and emptiness. It feels as if you’re muddling through your days, looking at your life through a foggy windshield. And it might be the dominant emotion of 2021.’

The article describes that languishing is somewhere between a clinical depression and flourishing and that it can be a precursor to depression if left to decline. I found myself react to the medicalisation of what seems to be such a common reaction to this pandemic and how it has disrupted our lives, especially social connections. Do we need another medical term with which to diagnose our lives just now? 

But the suggested way out of the fugue rang true. It was to be in a state of ‘flow’. This isn’t about blissed out relaxation, rather it’s about being involved in an activity that is challenging enough to engage you and that will leave a sense of achievement and happiness at its best. https://www.headspace.com/articles/flow-state.

For some it will be a work project, a piece of writing, a creative task , or it might be something more everyday such as a jigsaw, gardening, golfing, redecorating, knitting, working on couch to 5k and so on. Crucially to achieve this we need minimum distraction. So being caught in emails or Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and whatever is the next social media fashion is a real disruption to flow. The advice is to have dedicated, ‘No Disruption’ time.

Maybe it’s worth exploring to see the impact? I find writing difficult if I’m ‘languishing’ as it’s hard to engage so cognitively in a project but I do find a new project will find me energised and ready to engage again. Knitting for me is a valuable way to achieve flow and I’m honestly not that good! Get good wool is my hot tip; then it hides my own deficits but produces something of value. Seeing a baby wrapped in a blanket I’ve knitted is so heart warming. And seeing my Granddaughter in the jumper I knitted was just wonderful. However so far that has been my peak, the next one went in the bin with some adjectives to guide it. I do agree that undisturbed time to achieve flow is well worth exploring. And if you are like me enjoy the flow but let go of perfection.

Yet still a medical term for this time feels at odds with some of my own reflections on this space we are occupying. At this time in Scotland we are creeping out of lockdown. I’ve enjoyed visiting new places recently and part of me wants to plan trips to see friends and family. But another part of me is really quite resistant.

I notice that something in me has also flourished in the space that lockdown has created, the simpler routines and resting time too. There is a concept in gestalt which is called ‘the fertile void’. Fritz Perls was the first to describe it, ‘When meaning making ends and being begins’. What if we are now able to be in the fertile void 

Those of us who can accept that we have no power over the pandemic and it’s impact on us and accept uncertainty will find greater peace of mind. For this there needs to be naming of what we have lost and let it go. And currently we are not yet in the often longed for ‘new’ normal, many of us are instead on retreat from the everyday routines of busy lives. 

In the work on Transitions by William Bridges, this time would be the space between the old and new realities. For organisations in transition ( as so many are) this is when we experience churn, movement, change and if we are living through this we are likely to feel uncertain and even fearful with a lack of trust. 

 The concept of the fertile void reframes the negative narrative to be the space for creativity and flow. The creative void as it is known in gestalt is uncomfortable but it is where possibility and surprise lie, waiting to be ignited. No wonder I’m reluctant to let it go; whilst destabilising it’s also the space where we can create different norms of living, working, flourishing in a more equal world. I feel strongly I mustn’t waste that opportunity and I need to keep the space to just be, to trust deeper truths to emerge and be willing to be in flow with what is next. 

Its not a small ask, but what’s the alternative? And we don’t need to change the world, we just need to start with ourselves. 

Pale prisoners of a virus

 

                                                                       Spring 2021

Has there ever been 

a spring so welcome?

A blue sky - a cold underbelly.

Lockdown easing-uneasy.

Masked by vaccines

‘Have you had yours?’

Edging out now

distanced and yet together

our plans more tentative.

Losses again awakened

grief steals the anticipation,

a sharp stab of memories

of words unsaid.

‘Bring it back next time’

a casual assumption

of friendships surviving,

of us surviving.

But we are here,

Pale prisoners of a virus,

the unseen assassin

the stealer of life and living.

But I need to be out

to see the hills

to paddle in streams,

to breathe freedom in the air.

I want to clasp my family close

and together sit around the table

to celebrate life and make

plans for living again.

A visit to the hebrides,

to a gallery, an exhibition

of colour filled stories,

to see a play or a film

and talk about it afterwards.

To feel normal,

there it is, that word,

normal, an aspiration 

so measly.

But headlines speak

of reckless leadership

and countries overflowing 

with death.

My heart aches as

I struggle into spring,

my face held up to the sun.

I’ve been struggling to write, to be honest

 I’ve tried to write a few blogs these last few weeks but a few things have stopped me. Mainly I guess we’ve had family illness and trauma so that’s personal to others and it’s not appropriate to write what’s essentially their stories. And worry is so disabling. I know, I do best when I stay in the moment, and I’ve tried but I’ve not done well really. And although I try not to communicate my worry I’m sure this leaks out in a thousand ways to become a burden for others. It’s a bit self indulgent. I feel so helpless and that troubles me.

 My self image was of someone who could do things to help; it’s so ingrained; to make soup, do shopping,  washing, ironing (?). But instead I watch as others help the people I love and I’m part of the complexity not especially helpful at that time. It grieves me deeply and I also know it’s not about me so I stay quiet and bring what I can which is my listening ears and a bucket of love. Sometimes advice is welcomed and I know what might help. I’m guilty however of offering advice clumsily, when it’s not wanted. I try to blame my eagerness to help but again that’s making it about me. And breathe. You see why it’s hard to write about?

I’ve wanted too, to write a blog called ‘Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman’. I’ve started it and thought, but so many folk have written about this better than I have, but it’s a theme I couldn’t step over. Overtly or covertly it’s been a huge theme in the news.

I’ve so many special women in my life, my sister and sister-in-law, my nieces and niece-in-law, my friends, my step daughter and granddaughters  and of course my daughter-in-law and my daughter. I feel so angry at how women’s trauma has suddenly become for women to fix too. A world of misogyny and violence against women became quite overwhelming for a time recently. The death of a young woman in London sparked a telling of stories, like no other. Of all the times women and girls had experience threatening or violent behaviour so much that they had shaped their lives differently as a consequence. I’ve recognised more signs like gaslighting in recent years and  called it out. This has felt so huge a step and yet so small in the whole context. But I do believe  we change the world one person at a time. And I see and know many women who do call things out, who challenge , and bring up daughters who are confident. But I also see how my generation ( and some of the subsequent)  has adapted and fitted in to make life calmer, to stay for the children, who stay because they like the job, who accept it’s just how it is. And that has to be ok too, a life constantly fighting is not a happy one.

Men have to accept responsibility for change. My sense is that violence against women has become more exposed but that doesn’t mean it has stopped, maybe that exposure has normalised a previously hidden sore? So now we’ve exposed it, almost like another pandemic in its reach and impact, but where is the vaccine we have pursued with equal vigour and investment? Until we invest to change it will stay and I fear it will become a deeper wound, much more difficult to heal. 

I’ve been fortunate to have had very special men to share my life with, my sense is that they are the people who will lead that change, alongside us, showing how relationships can be. Not perfect but respectful, kind and loving. 

It’s all so huge which is why I’ve hesitated to write about it. But if not now when, if not us, who? 

Shielding

https://twitter.com/alliancescot/status/1365356539834433536?s=21

This is a video the ALLIANCE made of me reading this poem for a workshop. It brings this work to life, I hope you enjoy it. 

Shielding.           

Its beautiful today,

blue skies and sun dazzling snow.

Children sledging and

shaping snow into fun creations.

Their calls and screams a joyful burst

in a long lockdwon winter. 

They don’t notice me.

That’s me there, across the road

behind the window.

My social calendar is empty, bar the NHS.

 My “walks” with friends were highlights 

Until the bitter east winds came.

“Stay in” calls resound. 

And snow is not the place for the vulnerable.

I’ve done my share of sledging,

skating on thin ice ( ahem)

and building lifeless snowmen. 

Instead I huddle in doorways.

The offical photographer

for photos I never appear in.

Shielding they call it. 

I’m at risk of the virus

that haunts us each night

on the news I try to avoid

but cant.

I’ve been in ICU before 

it terrified me with

drug induced nightmares,

ventilators that silence the voice

and drain the soul.

It’s  utter dependence

and fear.

So I’m shielding you see.

That’s me over there

behind the window,

awaiting vaccines

and the post-pandemic spring,

whenever it comes.

Audrey Birt February 2021