Week 6. Steadiness. How to remain steady when things get stormy again.

At about noon yesterday, as in much of the UK, a storm rolled in.  Living right by the sea, storms never pass unnoticed, they are an event.  There is a sense of "battening down the hatches" to make sure we get through the impending winds.  In our well built cul-de-sac, it usually only means checking the recycling bins are secured.  I checked the high-tide time to see when the highest waves will roll in.  All that can then be done is to wait for its arrival, knowing that it will pass.

The timing was perfect as my own emotional storm was simultaneously brewing.  The knot in my stomach that I had for a few days had progressed to a simmering volcano.  Waiting for the latest update about our social distancing rules was already involving a lot of mental and emotional energy.  I am very concerned about relaxing our lockdown rules too early...  It reminded me of the early weeks of this whole pandemic trying to work out what on earth was going on and what to do.  Watching the ten minute Prime Minister announcement last night did not help one bit.  I am now feeling more like an erupting volcano, with a hundred concerns about what now?

When I am filled with such intensity of emotion and questions, I am realising it will be shared by other people too.  But what to do with it all?  The hardest part for me is wishing I could have some influence in key decisions that will affect this pandemic.  I know my individual ability to change the government's path is small, but I have to still act.  So later I am writing letters and posing questions to anywhere I think will help in this confusion.

I chose steadiness for this week's theme, as it fitted with the actual and metaphorical weathering of the storm.  I went for a walk yesterday at the peak of the storm to watch the white-capped waves crash along the beach.  It felt therapeutic and invigorating as I pounded some of my own energy onto the shingle.  Wrapped up in warm layers, waterproofs with a snack/water bottle I felt well prepared and safe.  I know the beach and waters well,  I even swim and canoe on calmer days in the summer months.

Walking into a gusty 42 mph headwind, all I needed to do was take slower steps than normal and appreciate the force of the wind.  It felt wild and exciting.  Equally invigorating was finally arriving home and stepping into the warmth and protective cocoon.  And I even relaxed, made a hot chocolate and read a magazine.  My inner volcano had for now been tamed.

To help navigate the possibly bumpy patch ahead for some of us, I have been reflecting on the well-known serenity prayer.

 "Grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference." (Niebuhr)

When thoughts and emotions are as turbulent as the storm outside, I think about what can I actually do to change things on a practical level either collectively or individually.  Then once I have done those things, can I accept the uncertainty and how difficult this feels?  Is it possible to actually stop the real storms that batter our little town?  Or do we need to wrap up warm and just watch the wild waves from a safe distance?

So I need to take a step back from the political confusion in this serious situation.  My wish for good health and a continuing drop in infection rates is surely shared by all?  While the storm continues, I need to find the slow and steady steps of things I can do.  Holding steady, I can carry on making this time as comfortable as possible while we wait for some kind of clarity to emerge again.