I recently rewatched the movie Beetlejuice and found quite a few parallels with "the current situation". Namely, the newly deceased couple finding themselves stuck in their house, with people they don't like, and blood-thirsty sand snakes lying in wait outside the front door - okay the last bit isn't exactly what we're facing but you get the idea. And, yes, they do have to wait 125 years before they can be released and they are ghosts, but still I felt some connection with their plight all the same!
You see, it's this feeling of waiting that's so draining, sapping all the life-force and creativity out of me. So that no matter how much sleep; healthy food; exercise; guided relaxations I cram in to one day, at the end of it comes a tidal wave of deep, and unfathomable exhaustion. And I suddenly realise: it's almost as if I've been holding my breath - waiting to exhale once "this is all over". But who knows when that will be??! And in the meantime, a girl's gotta breathe!!
On the surface of things, my days aren't actually that different from BL (Before Lockdown). I get up, chant, read a bit (sometimes the other way around), make calls, clean/tidy the flat/general life admin, maybe a guided meditation, lunch, nap, cuppa with book or staring out the open window perched on the windowsill, chant more, call someone maybe, play a bit of guitar/write/draw, dinner, T.V, go to bed. Along with an outing on my bike thrown in every few days, things are much the same as always, just without the physical meet ups or trips to library/hairdresser/coffee pilgrimages to punctuate the solitude.
But there's a marked difference. I can't concentrate on anything for very long; I forget what I'm meant to be doing, or what I walked into another room for. I feel itchy and uncomfortable most of the time. I rest but it only makes me feel more exhausted. I talk to people on the phone but my voice is flat and I struggle to listen... Everything feels like a simulation; a pretend version of living. Just passing the time/waiting it out - getting through another day of this, another week feels like a great achievement. But then it doesn't... cos there's no satisfaction in crossing off the days without a final destination to aim for.
It's like there's a giant magnifying glass of intense over-awareness cast over everything - good, bad, ugly, beautiful... and at the same time a numbness prevails, rendering everything foggy and unreal.
Desperately seeking outside of ourselves, watching how other people are behaving (or not behaving) until finally driven inside to that place we've been avoiding for so long. Funny how it takes being forcibly isolated to actually begin forging a lasting, deep connection with myself. All the running feels like madness as I catch glimpses of the constant state of peace and comfort residing at my core. The state of resisting is so much more painful than the actual business of BEING. Alone, yes, but so fulfilled.
A couple of days ago I took the decision to take charge of the situation, realising it's the passivity of waiting that's so intolerable. We may feel helpless but there is so much we can contribute - it just takes a strong sense of purpose, or mission as we describe it in buddhism. Remembering why I am here, at this time, and with my unique set of personal challenges. There's no government mandate against being myself and deciding to move forward, even an inch, every day. Suddenly things don't seem so dreary anymore. I even feel a glimmer of excitement at the prospect of all the changes I will see in my life and my environment once we're through this.
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