That Which The Light Reveals
For years I not only was blogging regularly, but I had a monthly newsletter that was always happily received by my readers. I found that writing incredibly rewarding, but life went a different direction in a whole lot of ways about six years ago, and the newsletter and blog were temporary casualties of rebooting my life. Now my world has made a space to unpack the blog and exercise my writing muscles. I've started cleaning up my website and gotten back on track.
We've been in the world of COVID now for the vast majority of a very intense year, and we've all gone through a lot of stages. Some of them have been revelatory, most have been overwhelming. I have become an avid reader again after far too long of not reading much at all. Maybe I just over consumed streaming media - who knows?
There was the baking stage, the online movie binging, the making our houses cozy, the feeling-awful-because-you-have-nothing-to-do-yet-you're-not-accomplishing-anything stage. Most of these have overlapped, or gone and returned, or never really gone away.
You can come up with your own list.
The thing that seems to be common throughout it all is a sense of waiting...waiting for things to return to "normal", for "life to start again", but I hate to break it to you, this is life, this is how things are right now. Life didn't stop, it just changed to something that is radically different than we'd grown used to, to expect. The idea that your life is on hold, that you are waiting for "normal" is pervasive, but life doesn't get put on hold. It cares not for what you think it should be; it just is.
And, by the way, there won't be a return to anything. The world has changed, and changed in ways we can't even anticipate. Too many big things have happened in this last twelve months for our world to come out the other side of this looking exactly the same, and that's not just ok, it's probably good.
Racial inequities, ideas about education, rule of law, workplace dynamics, global climate damage, have all come rushing to the front, refusing to be ignored any longer. These things were always there; we just have been made to look at them, which has been predictably brutal, but shining a light on problems allows them to be seen, which begs that they be addressed.
The question for you is, what has arisen for you personally that has been hard to look at? How will you come out of all this different and better for having had to witness the unveiling of them, those things you can no longer tuck under the rug?
I'm not going to try to "bright side" our trauma, but there is an opportunity here. You can allow yourself to pay attention to the parts of your life, of yourself, that you're no longer able to ignore, and see what happens now that they've been dragged out into the light.