Blog #
109…September, 2020
Sometimes I
wonder if we’ll look back on this time with the nostalgia people have for the
blitz in Britain. Will we forget the
disruption, anxiety and sadness and cling to memories of the silence, the
challenge and accomplishment of change, the unexpected closeness to other
people? Our memories play weird tricks, converting the horrors of war into
feelings of camaraderie and common purpose or the discomfort of change into a
focus on the result.
We tend to
think of creativity as producing a painting or a play, but creating a life with
the available materials these days can be an amazing act, to be recognized and
appreciated. I’ve had a bit of
experience with homeless people and with refugees and, in both cases, have been
struck by the ingenuity they show in getting through a difficult set of
circumstances. I’m not diminishing the
anguish of their collective losses or the despair of their futures by comparing
our lives to theirs, just speculating on how we may be having similar feelings.
So we’re
learning to practice a variety of arts…the
art of being flexible, of being patient and of taking risks, to name only a few. And as
with learning to perform any new art, there’s some thinking and practicing involved,
and resources to be consulted.
Long a believer in how reading can help make
sense of life and our place in the world, I recently came across The Novel Cure – compiled by a couple of
women who’d been students together at Oxford. It’s an A-Z of literary remedies,
covering everything from addictions to zestlessness, a stubbed toe or a case of the blues,with wisdom,
humour and an obvious love of reading. Among my favourites: Being in a jam –
pick up Yann Martell’s Life of Pi, at
least you’re not trapped in a small boat with a tiger! Not taking enough risks?
In The Sense of and Ending, Julian
Barnes explores how an elderly man regrets his life of being safe and somewhat
cowardly when he thought he was being mature and responsible. And in the
chapter on procrastination Kazuo Ishiguro, in The Remains of the Day, asks “Why
do today what can be left till tomorrow? “
And finally,
we’ve all had different experiences over the past few months and it might be
good to capture them together in an informal way. If you’re interested in starting a thread of
shared stories, a sentence or two of impressions or slightly more, let me know
and I’ll get something going.
See you in
October as the leaves begin to fly and we await an uncertain future …and
remember. it helps to enfold yourself in small comforts
