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To my reader,
This is a pandemic.
Not the fictitious kind found in a dystopian novel, but the kind that will feature in biographies and history books.
It has been a time of extreme paradox: we have, collectively, felt alone; we have been imprisoned in our own homes (the places we have previously yearned to be); we have been well rested and restless; idle and anxious. It is a strange thing to wake up, get dressed and sit at a home office. A peculiar routine.
The first wave brought fear. We were rushing to shops and clutching for non-perishables and toilet paper and hand sanitiser. Glen 20 was out of stock for far too long. I ran out of hand soap, so we used body wash for a while. We stocked our freezers and planted seedlings. After a few weeks the chaos settled like the autumn leaves on the pavement and we finally exhaled, long and slow.
The next wave brought us back to our roots.
We are baking bread from scratch, doing crafts, watering our gardens and making our own coffee. We have been writing poems and binging television programs, learning a language and calligraphy and all about ourselves. We have been lighting candles and drinking wine and cleaning our houses. Calling our friends and family on FaceTime and writing them letters. We are reading books (so many books). We are praying.
Hopefully it will be over soon, but, at the very least, the pandemic has shown us the whole range of ourselves (both individually and collectively). We will globally bond from this shared experience and we will come out of it knowing a hell-of-a-lot more about who we are and what we want from this life.
The pandemic is terrible.
But we are doing so so good.
CPG.
This is a pandemic.
Not the fictitious kind found in a dystopian novel, but the kind that will feature in biographies and history books.
It has been a time of extreme paradox: we have, collectively, felt alone; we have been imprisoned in our own homes (the places we have previously yearned to be); we have been well rested and restless; idle and anxious. It is a strange thing to wake up, get dressed and sit at a home office. A peculiar routine.
The first wave brought fear. We were rushing to shops and clutching for non-perishables and toilet paper and hand sanitiser. Glen 20 was out of stock for far too long. I ran out of hand soap, so we used body wash for a while. We stocked our freezers and planted seedlings. After a few weeks the chaos settled like the autumn leaves on the pavement and we finally exhaled, long and slow.
The next wave brought us back to our roots.
We are baking bread from scratch, doing crafts, watering our gardens and making our own coffee. We have been writing poems and binging television programs, learning a language and calligraphy and all about ourselves. We have been lighting candles and drinking wine and cleaning our houses. Calling our friends and family on FaceTime and writing them letters. We are reading books (so many books). We are praying.
Hopefully it will be over soon, but, at the very least, the pandemic has shown us the whole range of ourselves (both individually and collectively). We will globally bond from this shared experience and we will come out of it knowing a hell-of-a-lot more about who we are and what we want from this life.
The pandemic is terrible.
But we are doing so so good.
CPG.