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Finding a gentle, mindful "middle path" through the challenges of living with some uncertainty.

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We've all heard the phrase in relation to our current pandemic that this is a "marathon not a sprint".  I've fully embraced the concept except by now, I reckon I've definitely run one emotional marathon and I'm shattered.  I am ready for some cheering as I cross the finishing line, a long hot bath, delicious comforting food and maybe a week to recover in a health spa.  I would relish a break from this pandemic marathon, with all its on-going uncertainties and fluctuations.  Surely by now, there could be an end date in sight when we can start making definite plans for events that aren't all on Zoom?  Luckily we have a Prime Minister with a crystal ball, who announced ten days ago that he thought it was likely that the coronavirus problem in the UK may well be over as early as November.  He gave a confident prediction that by Christmas we could all be hugging and abandoning social distancing.  It sounded convincing for a few moments until I remembered the

Accepting the present moment just as it is. How the stages of "culture shock" could help us understand the process of adapting to life now...

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Why isn't getting back out into the world more fun I lament?  We now have all these exciting possibilities to tempt us out of our homes, ranging from going to the hairdresser to having a meal out.  I have been looking forward to returning my library books and venturing a little further from my high street for the first time.  But when the moment finally came, it was a total disappointment.  I still find seeing face masks, the social distance and the plastic screens a shock each time I venture out.  I feel tearful if things are too busy and want to get home quickly.  And then the aha moment came... this feels like culture shock .  The adjustment process that people experience when going to live in a new country for the first six months or so.  Could it be that a similar process of culture shock is happening now as we adapt to our new normal, a "pandemic shock"? I lived in Asia during part of my 30s and I remember vividly how I slowly adapted to life overseas.  As someone

Discerning whether going our for a meal or to see the dentist is "safe"? And if we venture out, how "normal" is it?

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While this weekend allowed people to venture out for a drink or meal, it was definitely not all of us.  "Super Saturday" for me was no different to all my other recent Saturdays.  There was nowhere I was rushing to try for the first time post lockdown.  Has there become a divide in people's views of what is "safe" to do while our current infection rate remains low?  The under 40s are apparently making up the majority of those braving it out for a long awaited pizza or glass of wine.  Maybe the rest of us, or those with a health concern are staying in our own cosy kitchens cooking for the gazillionth time since March? When I heard about the UK Treasury discussing this week whether to award each adult £500 vouchers to spend on "face to face" retail and hospitality to boost the economy, I laughed.  I realised it was definitely not just me that is remaining cautious.  If Rishi Sunak is seriously considering waving vouchers like carrots to tempt us out of

The power of connection and the painful isolation of the pandemic. A monumental moment seeing my father.

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"Love recognises no barriers, it jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope"     Maya Angelou. Social isolation is difficult.  Sometimes I think our coronavirus pandemic is not only a disease of the body but also of community and relationships.  The idea of loved ones or ourselves becoming seriously ill and needing to be isolated is unthinkable but has painfully become true for thousands of people.   On a far less serious level,  I never thought I could manage being at home for two months during lockdown separated from everyone I know except my partner.  I have missed the sense of community that I took for granted pre-coronavirus such as being able to go to a yoga class, music event or my local cafe.  I have missed normal things like being able to cook for friends and relax around a table. But I'm surprised that I have found a sense of connection through the world of Zoom.  I have done yoga classes with wonderful teachers

Taking one step, one breath, one moment along our path... whether walking through Spain, a pandemic or grief.

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Recently, I have become an armchair traveller.  The travel books I am reading remind me of trips unaffected by coronavirus.  While it remains difficult to consider venturing abroad at the moment, I can imagine varied landscapes of olive-groves and mountain villages.  During the last two years, I have been fortunate to spend a few months in Spain.  It has been a very necessary tonic to help recover from a challenging patch of life marred by multiple bereavements, redundancy and my own health struggle.  I had been knocked sideways and was unsure how to get up again, let alone recover fully.  Would I feel crumpled and sore for ever?  All I knew was that I was craving sunshine and quiet to help heal and thankfully Spain was providing this in abundance. Life since coronavirus emerged has obviously been different.  I initially felt the loss of my precious trips to Spain that helped my soul feel alive again.  So now, instead of actually packing my suitcase, I am reading travelogues about

Befriending uncertainty in our "new normal".

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We've reached a milestone here in the UK in dealing with coronavirus.  We have passed the end of the 12 week period since the first day of lockdown.  By then I figured we'd be over the worst and nearly back to normal.  Friends that were "shielding" had been told that they needed to stay at home for this length of time.  Even Boris Johnson said that in the 12 weeks we could "turn the tide of this disease and send coronavirus packing in this country". We have turned the tide, thankfully.  The rate of infection appears to be slowly reducing each week in most areas.  I can feel my shoulders relaxing a little more as I see the numbers finally coming down.  The dreadful peak with all the tragic losses has indeed passed.  The weather is gloriously sunny and we are able to enjoy it now in our small groups of up to 6 people.   Easy Jet has just taken its first flight on Monday for 11 weeks from Gatwick to Glasgow with 51 passengers.  As more things are opening up I

Week 10. Balance. Staying steady when riding more ups and downs.

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Celebration is in order!  New Zealand is coronavirus free from Monday this week!  40, 000 people have been tested in the last 17 days and none have tested positive with no one in hospital for Covid-19 for 12 days.  Even more incredible is that it has been 40 days since the last case of community transmission.  Just imagine, waking up with no coronavirus in the country and being able to... open schools normally, go out to eat, hug friends and travel around.  Wow!  I am celebrating with you and will join PM Jacinda Ardern in her little dance for joy. Just before I could watch Jacinda Ardern's speech on You Tube, the preceding advert was ironically for colourful fabric face masks for the UK viewers.  It's hard not to compare New Zealand's success to UK's crisis.  A week ago, the ONS estimated that 39, 000 people in England alone were newly infected with coronavirus.  This number was calculated from a huge study testing thousands of randomly selected people.  My partner w

Feeling hopeful that some positive changes may occur after lockdown (however small).

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In a recent survey, 54% of people intend to make some positive changes in their own lives post lockdown.  The survey also found that many hoped we would learn lessons as a country, notably valuing our local communities and caring for our ecosystem.  If we have been fortunate enough to have our basic needs met during these times (home, enough food and some form of work or income) lockdown has given space to reflect on priorities in life. A common experience during lockdown has been a feeling of "less pressure" in terms of over-scheduled diaries.  In our achieving and materialistic society, we can all get caught up in the "more is better" philosophy.  This can include more work squeezed into evenings or weekends, more time spent on social media and our phones, more shopping, more trips away, more social engagements... It feels exhausting and never ending, always one more text or email before we can stop.  We can be so busy multi-tasking, we are not fully present in

Hope. Week 9. Glimmers of hope as we ease our lockdown.

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Living by the beach in the last few weeks during our easing of lockdown has had its mixed blessings.  My fears have been realised about our little seaside town becoming busy with people and cars.  Relaxing lockdown during our sunniest May weather on record has inevitably meant numerous visitors.  My recent conversations while out on my daily walk with locals have been about the crowds and how to cope with the influx. My perception of people adhering to social distancing has become somewhat skewed by living here.  I've been feeling some despair watching the number of people not social distancing.  Many groups started to appear long before groups of up to 6 were permitted from yesterday.  I have even been wondering about whether I want to continue to still live here with the anti-social behaviour that we are now seeing in a very small minority of cases.  It is really upsetting for a small, peaceful community. Thankfully I hear from friends who can help me put this local issue int

Adjusting to our "new normal"- but what about mild post-lockdown anxiety?

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It's a glorious, sunny day by the sea and from my window it is hard to believe that we were all in lockdown ten days ago.  Life here on a sunny, but windy mid-week day is a relief because the crowds have not come.  The beach looks quieter, cyclists and walkers seem to be weaving around each other amicably.  I am enjoying seeing the kite-surfers emerge again and show off their skills as they make incredible turns and leaps.  I might have actually found a moment of calm post-lockdown. On days like this when I see people happily enjoying the beach and having picnics galore, I feel alone in having some post-lockdown fears.  But apparently not.  Post-lockdown anxiety is a thing now for a number of people.  I've read articles on this topic written in Australia, New Zealand, UK and USA.  And this is reassuring to me who feels such mixed emotions.  On the one hand, it feels exciting to venture just a little further from my lockdown routine.  And at the same time, each step out of m

Week 8. Adjusting. Is everyone getting a bit cranky now?

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Last week I wrote about patience which I'm not sure resonated with many people.  Did I miss something in the current zeitgeist?  Are people feeling less patient and more irritable ?  Fed up with this whole social distancing thing?  Maybe cracks are appearing in our largely cohesive response to lockdown and saving lives.  If our Prime Minister's senior advisor can apparently bend the rules of self-isolation, are some questioning whether to keep following guidelines?  Even something "simple" such as sending children back to school is creating divisions among experts let alone parents trying to decide what is safe. A few days ago I stumbled across an article by Camilla Cavendish about how we could all be experiencing some element of "quarantine fatigue".  As the phrase suggests, it is a known phenomenon where individuals in very restricted social settings become weary.  Studied by scientists in remote expeditions, they found that quarantine fatigue reaches it

I miss the quiet of lockdown. I'm staying at home because my seaside town is overrun with people.

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Apparently, when rehabilitated primates are taken to be released back into the wild, they can take time to climb out of their cages.  Initially reluctant to leave their safe place and familiar carers, patience can be needed while they take brave steps back into the wild.   Caution is finally overcome by the desire to explore, tempted by their once familiar habitat and space to roam free. I'm not sure I'm ready to take those brave steps back out into the world as England starts to ease its lockdown.  I am peeping out of my lockdown "cave" in the middle of a mini heatwave and I don't want to venture out.  I can manage my normal walk and then I'm glad to arrive back into the sanctuary of my home.  How can anyone do this adjustment so quickly?  It all feels far too rapid for my sloth like pace of adapting to change. Because outside is no longer my quiet, deserted beach with a handful of walkers giving comfortable social distance.  I am no longer noticing the

Week 7. Patience. Are we rushing ahead too quickly out of lockdown?

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"Slow and steady wins the race" comes to mind at the moment as I am observing the effects of starting to ease our lockdown rules.  My gut instinct is that it is too soon for England, and we needed to keep pausing alongside Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.  Could we now be in for a longer journey?   As the idiom teaches us, steady and consistent effort can in the long run be more productive than rushing to get somewhere.  The latter can prove to be unsustainable, unreliable or could even result in mistakes. It's natural I guess after nearly two months of lockdown that some of us (plus the economy) are itching to get going again.  To help keep steady this week, I'm focusing on the quality of patience.  I'm not sure this virtue is fashionable in our modern hyper-connected fast-paced world.  But coronavirus is forcing us to remember what patience feels like.  During our lockdown, I became re-acquainted with patience while only shopping once each week.  If we ra

Hold steady - Easing lockdown feels more difficult than entering it...

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I miss normal.  I miss being able to plan the coming weeks or months without considering coronavirus.  I miss the simplicity of checking the weather to think about when I could either swim, walk or even canoe.  Now I am checking the current R value and number of cases of Covid-19.  I'm scanning graphs to hope that I can see a downward curve appearing, giving me some sense of how we are doing. But I have surprisingly adapted to our "staying at home" normal.  It's not always easy, but I'm in the swing of it.  It's taken most of the seven weeks to feel fairly skilled at doing yoga or mindfulness sessions by video.  I am adept at washing shopping and cleaning surfaces.  Our towels and door handles have never been so well cleaned.  And we have finally got a system of shopping once a week (plus the farmers market and vegetable box delivery) that works. I continue to find pleasure in the small moments of life, as we all do.  Nature continues to soothe my slightly