Once upon a time the world closed down.

Toilet paper became an emergency supply and sold out fast, the boarding up of shops and cafes rippling closures through to the city itself. Reluctant, sticky closures, jobs lost, fear stirred into coffees.

The media began its raging with the changes in the world, but I only knew this on a personal level when the postman knocked. I opened the door and he was standing 6 feet away and a small parcel was on the door step looking at me with suspicion.

I admit I panic bought a few things as if I get ill no one will shop for me. Buying things is a matter of survival, a primal need for example, toilet paper – a basic need. Toilet paper is a line of defence against poor hygiene to prevent disease. So it’s not surprising that people are stripping shelves. At times like this we switch to our basic needs, safety, warmth, security, and food. I was floored when I saw that there were no available delivery slots for months with the supermarket. A sense of panic again rose up, how will I eat. I reminded myself that I survived on very little for months in my travels in Central America and Eastern Europe. Not that that helps me now, when the Westernised spoilt child in me wants raspberry cheesecake and I only have rice in the cupboard.

I am struggling; I fight the panic, the uncertainty of what lies ahead, especially with the role models of Italy and Spain looming over us in which we appear to be heading towards. Living alone it feels much worse, although equally I have prepared for this for a while. I am used to isolating after moving around for work, making friends and having to leave them behind in Yorkshire, Bristol, and Sussex. It takes a couple of years to make good ones each time, at least it does when you’re older. Nevertheless, being forced to be alone is harder. My neighbour is still going to the pub with his girlfriend, and they are nearly 80 years old. I will be keeping away from them. I am new to the area so this is a pity.

I think that neighbours will be crucial in these times, they are people whose houses we can drop in on if we are all in curfew, if appropriate to do given social issues. I imagine myself sneaking next door in the cover of darkness to share a cup of tea, or a whisky, and absorb the human contact. I won’t of course. My other neighbours are stranded abroad. If only each of us everywhere helped our neighbours. Sorted.

How much more important will people become following this separation from each other? The fact that we cannot touch or hug. Unfortunately, this country; the UK, was already divided before this virus outbreak. It may take longer for us to feel united, but perhaps it has already happened. Except there seems to be a divide between those keeping social distancing and those not. Those in clubs the in pubs. Shameful. Or is it that the government and the media are being ambiguous in their message to us all? It certainly appeared so at the beginning. I suspect we will mean less to each other, not family, but strangers, we will be used to distance, technology for occupation and connection. Perhaps we could have a big wild street party when this is over, doubtful, most us will walkabout like nothing happened. In Italy they might, or Spain, places where people already are culturally more friendly to each other.

What are my priorities now? For me, it’s my work role in helping people, the safety of my family, my own safety. However, evidence arises for the essential workers, once categorized with lesser status.

The problem is where is the virus? On the letter put through the door? The taxi seat or handle? How careful are we supposed to be. There is a strong urge to carry on as normal as without normal what do we become? What do we face when routine and everyday life that we take for granted is removed? The rug pulled away, trying to stand up and walk again as the responsible adults we try to be. I would search for an island right now, empty except for a campfire and a hardy tent with a soft bed, sheltered, with a stockpile of food underground, and a freshwater spring. I would only come out once this has all passed. I’m sure some have done so, the wealthy among us who this will not affect as much. However, the tragedy of most of us, the disabled, those with illnesses, older citizens, the poor. This stirs anger within me.

This demonstrates one hard truth. We are on a planet. A cold cruel planet flying around a hot sun in the dark emptiness of space, although not many of us have seen the sun for weeks in the UK. Our lives appear unimportant to a greater universe. How then more important should we be to each other? Especially now.

Mortality hits me. It sings like an opera star when before it was a quiet ballard on a radio station I never listened to.

Now it has happened with schools closed, and restaurants and bars have followed. The government were letting us ease into this new reality [too] gently.

New orders: Stay indoors. Last orders at the bar.

Last night I was awake till about 4am full of angst, a sense of helplessness, waves of panic, and a sort of claustrophobia; not of being indoors but of not being allowed to go to places. An urge to do something lingers, either to run to that island or to plunge into altruism. The conflict weighing me down today. Indulging in Netflix or Amazon, checking the food cupboard a few times, housework, looking at the Spring bulbs growing. I am hoping this will be over by the time they come into flower. I log into supermarket sites to see if there is a free slot for delivery yet, no. Not for weeks.

There is a sense of dread looming re hospital work, but we are all together in one heart as a team, many of us. Standing to face what is coming but feeling like we are on our knees before we start

I want to write something sensible or astounding and I can’t. I want to be funny or profound but instead I will log out and eat chocolate. It’s not enough, our lives have become virtual though we now depend on it more than ever before. The future will be very different.

Waiting to wake up.

This was going to be my year of being social and finding new friends after relocating. Plan B virtual contacts.

The news is addictive I try to limit to one a day, feeling hyperalert and watching disaster movies. A friend watches cartoons, a better idea. Realise we used to watch these films to escape the dull loop of sleep, eat, work. Now the real world wins outright. I will start turning to old black and white films, animation and cartoons.

Loneliness brings into view a sharp focus on your own heartbeat. Of looking through one’s eyes, not understanding life. I turn to Tranströmer to explain reality to me. I name humans ‘the intelligent dust’. He describes ‘the vaults upon vaults with in us’.

I have spent most of my life in silence. Observing. In reckless innocent fun when younger. Not enough fun. The more I searched through life for meaning, the more strange life became; like turning a torch on in a forest at night. You can see at tree, a spray of bright green, but you know there are thousands of trees around you but they blur, dark, unseen. Sensing is so much stronger than words, the same for people; in silence we can know each other better. Meet each other from our hearts. It is painful it is inspiring it is insightful.

So now for a moment again I forget the current situation, it doesn’t intrude the normal home life until you remember or the news troubles you for hours. Outside. Outside is something else. A microscopic enemy lurks. For all our grandeur and bravado we fall to the smallest of warriors. I am scared. For my older parents, my friends, myself. For work colleagues. I worry about the ability to endure this for possibly months or a year. Weekends have been long and wearisome before ‘staying in’ officially, my work was my social life. Although, happy nesting in a new home helps.

Custard is a default comfort. Homemade. I found myself laughing at the News today, at the empty shelves, as a defence mechanism. It worked. Still a terror shifts itself around inside me. I hope I can sleep tonight. I hear chips shops are open for takeaway, not that I’ve had one for years, but it’s comforting to know.

Woke up to a Mother’s Day where I cannot visit my mum. I had an ecard from a friend who reminded me love penetrates boundaries where distance is a barrier. Yeah .. and all that, true, but nothing beats a hug. The sun is shining today and is a welcome release nito the garden. Birds obliviously building nests, new buds getting larger everyday on the trees behind the border fence. I cannot even hug a tree! The bulbs are opening upward.

I saved eight broad beans that I cooked yesterday for lunch today..

Feel terrified of going to any GP or dentist or hairdresser! I don’t go normally anyway unless urgent.

I miss the 80s. The 90s. I admit a little of the 60s as well, but only the people I loved back then.

I have stones in the garden in a pile that I carried back in a plastic bag from the Arctic Circle, which was a feat. When I say stones I mean small rocks! Why? They glisten and sparkle, connect me with the pure parts of our planet, stones; not intelligent dust. They remind me of my Northern ancestors of which I am trying to draw on their hardier stuff right now. The sun makes it feel like all is well with the world, in our own homes and gardens it is. I feel concern for those trapped indoors with ‘unhelpful’ relatives, yes .. abusive households. The social impact here will be phenomenal during and afterwards. We NEED a good leader right now. I had another email from a dear friend in Madrid on lockdown with her husband, she told me that they clap their hands at 8pm for the health workers but bang their saucepans for the government for taking action too late. Hello UK. She does not have a balcony or outside space. The florists do not deliver flowers due to risk. For each of us all we have to communicate, other than our voices, is that ‘sense’ which no barrier holds away.

Furious at people travelling about on holidays to the seaside towns or in the countryside. Idiots, wheels of death. Distancing has to be enforced here in the UK by the police. Wake up. A lot of people are doing what they need to do but the minority that aren’t are appalling, I hate the word appalling. It will get harder to stay in when the weather improves, so far winter has helped the UK. The worst feeling perhaps for all of us is helplessness, that is the unnamed heaviness I feel.

Feeling a desperation I don’t know what for. Deleting junk emails from older accounts trigger happy on the delete button.

Now a rise of desperation again, panic, when I read the increase in deaths in Spain. The worry about what will follow here. SO what are you doing Boris to protect the NHS staff? What are you doing government to protect us NOW?

The forest fires in Australia have become fires in our hospitals. However, we have no water to put it out.

I can hear ambulances where I live. Frequently. This is a war, the new good air raid siren is an ambulance. Exposed nowhere to take cover. Is this all alarmist? No. Not when you listen to the death toll, not when you listen to WHO.

Had to have a bath with a candle this evening to find calm. Concerned about parents, about friends with underlying conditions, going frankly nuts this weekend! Breathe. If I can’t keep calm considering my role who can. There is an end to this. Very tired.

The cold broad beans tasted fine. Tried to get online food delivery all morning for my parents. All sites down or busy no phone help available for Tesco, Sainsbury’s, Waitrose. Finally got through and booked a slot – heaven for ASDA! Lovely to see slots available lol. It is all basic needs soaring through the roof, loo rolls, and food. I imagine the utilities are coping with the demand of people being home. I encourage my parents being blitz babies and experiencing rationing. They still went outside today!

Exasperated feeling useless in my job role. Utterly useless.

Wrote to MPs in Cornwall last night asking them what are they doing to stop thousands of tourists spreading death in Cornwall by allowing travel to holiday lets or anywhere rural. Numbers will rise. Furious. The untold horrors that occur. I twittered Boris and the UKsciencechief but I doubt that will get read. I do not understand why the country is not being shut down properly, people are hopeless here.

More calm today. Accepting of what is doable and what is utterly not. No News until the afternoon. Having a green outdoor space helps a lot. I can imagine being stuck in without one. A lot of horrors going on unseen. Malted Milk biscuits sold out. Contrasts. A lot more ambulance sirens recently daily. Birds happily singing in the trees. Nothing to say.

Lockdown

Here we still are in our new world; closed and fragmented from each other with uncertainty.

Our hunter- gatherer instincts have gone into overdrive unable to gather for ourselves in the usual way , the survival anxiety has heightened. Others have set our limits to our gathering supplies, shops once heaving with superfluous goods and choice. Shut. Back to basic essentials, when we can find them. We know basic needs are the first thing we seek and If we are lucky we have shelter, warmth, and security. Food is the main thing now but only because of panic buying. Have you seen the price of yeast on eBay. I panic ordered 44 yeast packets from a mill somewhere. The site said it would phone for the payment. I felt very guilty. The phone rang and a ‘headmistressy’ voice said ‘Madam, we can’t send you 44 packets’. I said I understand please cancel.

We either have over packed cupboards or empty ones, people will get distressed. All is strange, frightening uncertain. On the news we are shocked and saddened, our frailty is highlighted. The people we love become even more dear if that were possible.

Uncertainty is hellish. We crave certainty – but in fact nothing can be certain continuously. Certainty is a like being a boat headed towards a port, you know which port and expect to arrive roughly on time, uncertainty is like you don’t know which port, and have no idea of a time of arrival – nevertheless you are on the same boat whether you know the port and arrival time or not.

Armies and police visible, airports and stations empty husks echoing few footsteps. How important suddenly are our footsteps. How valuable that hug we cannot give.

I test my breathing from time to time.

All is raging, all is terrifying in our world. Yet the small things matter now and here alone I discover for the first time the essence of my feline companion. The phenomenon of her existence, of all of ours, like when I saw a tree as if for the first time a few years ago. . that was quite frightening and beautiful at the same time. This I believe is the opening up of the inner vaults we have within us.

The sun and the Spring have come, every day is warm, every day birds sing and feed, every day people are dying. I decided I am not brave. There are brave workers out there, helping others without protection. I am not brave and I am ashamed. I am doing what I can, and I do have my own limitations. In my 30s I traversed newly opened countries, pushing through heat, danger, bandits, bullet ridden villages, strangers, lack of food, accidents, getting lost in ghettos. In my 40s I pushed through temporary homelessness whilst conquering a doctorate, battling corrupt systems single-handed, and searched for a job with a suitcase full of qualifications. Now, I bed down, building myself a den in the garden, somewhere safe and a sanctuary. Why, what changed I ask myself. I realised overnight that it is the lack of social support now after relocating so many times. In the past I had a fiance waiting at home when I travelled, and solid friends that had built up from years together in my 20s, and 30s, that I drew strength from to be an adventurer. The fiance gave up on me waiting for me to return from the jungle. So I cannot find the resources I need within myself to be brave right now. I think that that parallels what is happening to most of us now perhaps, we are isolated, alone. Furthermore, when I explored a few corners of the world I could climb, run, outwit any danger. Now we must hide. It is far worse. I remember hiding in a cupboards or behind curtains playing hide and seek; there is more ‘stress’ in being found than doing the finding. All of us disempowered.

Here is space

Wish I knew what life was, its purpose if any., its depth. It appears to be. Couldn’t find a noun to end that sentence. Words limit us.

Avoided the news yesterday.

Finding pleasure in simple things, baking bread, cake, watching bulbs grow, birds flit, a breeze, fresh leaves on trees, a pheasant, birds endless songs in this Spring, a pot of tea, a book, sounds of neighbours infrequently, luckily, a candle, a bath, the phenomenon of my sweet rescue cat, stillness, shadow, wishing, waiting , and wonder. Haven’t actually made bread or cake yet waiting for the baking tins to arrive! Must find a book to read and begin that jigsaw.

Decided to write a brief Will. Brief because I am in no mood for emotion or dying. I have nothing particular to leave behind anyway. The air is too hot sharp and the breeze too gentle to die in the Spring. A raging angry wind on a cold winter morning can carry me away. If I had a choice. Now is the time for readjusting, realigning, pushing forward through fears, creating a hope to live by for us all. A future that will be different and has to be.

Another day behind our doors. We wake, waking is astounding. We wake into a life. For some it may be like waking into a coal pit, a small room, a large room, or a field, but we wake. We won’t always.

Discovered Lavender sugar and Rose sugar in small glass pots with a pink top. Simple pleasures right now. Keeps me out of the small room.

I’ve been staring at the lawn mower for three days now. I took it out the shed and left it there. I refuse to mow the wee lawn as the daisies and dandelions look lovely and butterflies visit, although Purple stalks them like a tiger after a gazelle.

Decided to make saffron buns with some of the er 30 kg of flour I raided from online mills. Googled the benefits of saffron, antioxidant, treats depression, so far so good, then also may act as an aphrodisiac – not particularly useful right now.

Realised I am not genetically wired to comprehend mass. I have had 3.5 kg of yeast arrive. Feel responsible for the bread of Britain, will have to make some for other places.. except people don’t really take bread as a gift.. as tastes vary. I ordered ‘7’ and thought it would be sachets. It is 500 g tins. The same happened to the tin of dried milk I ordered.

I wish I was immune to this virus, in the past I was ‘hands on’ on my travels, helping where I could. Happy with dirty shoes, sleepless nights, focused on where the next meal would be in Central America, slipping through side streets with more than a suspicious postman about, feeling immortal, strong. I want that feeling back, so to get some fitness back I use a static cycle and run away from wasps. Not quite the same, but I hope to travel again. Travel has been my only true joy, where I am myself.

The tree. Awareness. You need to search for the tree. To be literally startled by a tree. Look at it afresh in a mindful sense. It can overwhelm.

Today. Video meetings for work, hours of them. Things taking shape now. Frustration at process; shall we meet at 4 or 4.15 comes the discussion. I rage. I want to get my shoes dirty. Video meetings ops one click and I’m out instead of sitting in a room grinning bearing. Tearful today, didn’t sleep til 3 am, an all over the place kind of night. The duration of this crisis finally hit me. Talking aloud to the cat more.

Contrasts. Today is a smoothie of contrasts. Details ground together in my mind; a dusting of banana milkshake, tulips and daisies, birdsong, sleepy cats, baseball cap, bees on Wisteria, breeze, sun, a neighbour’s low radio, compost for tomatoes waiting, solar lights heating. courgette cake cooking, the odd seagulls daring to pester, against heavier ingredients of fear settled heavily in my heart; the charged collective blanket of suffering, loss, grief, change, uncertainty and death. I thought the other day, all of nature is merry Spring engendering itself into new life from flowers, seeds, birds, animals, trees. It is ignorant of human suffering as though we don’t belong we are separate from it. Nature knows nothing about us, nor cares, it will flourish regardless of our attendance on the planet, and likely benefit from our absence. Yet how valuable is nature to us.

Found a poem saying just this: ‘Looking up at the stars, I know quite well, that for all they care, I can go to hell’ Auden. I’m running on the inside from losses to come, and the final loss of self. Although.. according to my dips in and out of Buddhism, there is no self .. and that appears true. Every cell in us changes daily or weekly, renews, what is permanent? Nothing in or around us. So how precious each of us is, so how great the tragedy is happening now, where life becomes a statistic.

I have never belonged. The wrong name and characteristics in this country, the wrong language in my other country. Didn’t join in with the smokers at school, nor permit myself the bike shed experience. Deliberately stood apart. Thought there was something more to life than the usual, the predictable, the expected. Never did the expected, hence still single. Everything too late. I called to a mute god many times, the christian one, my experiences there surpassed explanation at times. I ran. I ran to love, I ran to science. Neither faith nor science gave up answers from the deep. At least they were incomplete, I have found insights from my life observing life, alone, the sidelines. It’s like when you go on holiday with others, what you do and see is focused on them, their perspective which you join to or not. When you travel alone or just ‘be’ on your own, unhindered, no demands, you see further through the frosted glass. The tip of all I’ve learnt is found in silence. I have only just lived long enough to see below the water.

I think I might have been an elephant. To expand on that, if past lives do exist – I don’t know, and whether you believe that or not doesn’t matter because if it’s true there’s nothing you can do about it. Ten religions ten people who might die for their beliefs – who is right? None of them. All cannot be correct so none are. I think there are threads of truth within each religion all singing the same words if you can hear through the white noise. I read something which startled me profoundly yesterday. All beings are singing. Everything on earth vibrates at a different atomic wavelength. Raising that to animals and humans our language is a simply vibrating cord through which air passes. Each species can understand the vibrations of its own. Bird song, frog, gorilla, cat, elephant. Now that might imply I understand elephant language but I don’t! Of course there is research as to the content meaning of animal language and meaning exists. I am deeply engaged for elephants, I feel strongly for their history and loss due to poaching. I know from research they are sentient, they feel – have an amygdala as we do which processes emotion. They have long memories and so on. The same for whales, I cannot dwell, or tears rise. Mammals as we are. Intelligence, just that we can’t tap into it and understand the meaning to their atomic songs. So we assume they are lesser, yes their frontal cortex is not as developed, just as well, but aren’t feeling from the heart interconnected. I want to ask an elephant to forgive us. Previously I wrote to zoos to ask to spend time with one, of course declined.

So, today is week six just started or gone of lockdown. I have been in solitary confinement all this time, bar video calls for work. The time flew the first month, with sun, fresh air, quiet, autonomy of work, baking, er gaming, jigsaws and on line teaching. The past two weeks have been more hellish, a little depressed, lonely. Terrified of going back to work, to be part of a second wave experiment. I have started to exercise indoors which I needed to do, it’s been years. The best moment of fitness I remember is in Romania, in my 30s, with a heavy rucksack walking through a town I didn’t know, a stranger lost, instinctively I had to find my way to the address of a friend I had never met, we were penpals, and it was the start of a life long friendship. It was very hot, and people were looking at me as there were not many if any foreigners there. The heat was browbeating, the rucksack a weight I could feel with every step, it was dusty, the pavements were dry and broken. I bought water from a kiosk and drank, tipping cool water over my face and arms marching with determination, strength and positivity I would find it. I felt completely alive. I did find it and sat on the step as she wasn’t home waiting, we became friends for life.

There comes a time when you see the end of all things visible, so one has to hope in the invisible. Stray as I might from the initial lockdown thoughts, I think it allows time to see clearer, to see the meaninglessness of things alongside the absorbing sharp wonder.

As for the situation,, six weeks going on seven weeks in, I have no idea how anyone manages well. If only we had someone decent, honest and compassionate in power.

The heat of the sun lulls you into a relaxed easy state, when all is not well at all. Waiting to see if a second wave is coming from the social experiment people are putting themselves in by mixing out doors.

An ‘eased’ opening up now, slogans used to fire up positive public attitude for a failed neglectful government. This is what it must feel like in Central or South America, a government you cannot trust to protect you and yours. It feels suffocating. People happily buzzing about close to each other, where nothing has changed from yesterday when we were locked up. Bad role modelling from those shoulder rubbing in power, hidden agendas we are not privy too, but almost certain it involves money and profit. So, remaining as safe as possible it is up to us to protect ourselves. The world continues to change, heavy, loud, useless people in power in some countries.. yes, UK, the USA, Brazil. I am still lullaby-ed by the sun to a hazy cloud of feeling retired, a word I dared never use before. I remain a new domestic goddess, consequentially slightly overweight. Also, I have a new found desire to partner with someone, had enough of being alone. As long as I don’t have to run around pleasing and keeping happy; that is not within me to do. I could never dress to satisfy someone else – not every day, there is a certain freedom in being single which I have enjoyed fully in environment, food, interests, space and travel. Now, happy to relinquish some of it to have another presence. Damned hard to find now, to walk a metre apart on a date? Let alone take the chance to hold a hand, to kiss. Typical really, when I am finally ready, the world is not.

Birds are still singing, I have made friends with a Robin and a Wood pigeon. The moth would be going too far.

The robin has brought the family and bird song and flowers filter the days.

I have no trust in British politics and I never will again. I had no idea until a few years ago how deceitful and self-serving it is. full of corruption, greed, and pomposity. I do not want to grow old in this country. Growing old I have no choice about, but I will quietly seek to leave, although I have been trying for years. The grass actually is greener in some parts of Europe.

I am running out of words, I have met my former selves in lockdown. as Transtromer describes:

“We always feel younger than we are. I carry inside myself my earlier faces, as a tree contains its rings. The sum of them is me. The mirror sees only my latest face, while I know all my previous ones”

This poet speaks the words of my soul. My former self was less lost; I saw directions and ran there or crawled or jumped there. Now I am cornered, trapped like a rabbit on the headlights in the work, sleep, eat cycle. It drains the soul. I have been directionless for a number of years, since my attempts to live in Scandinavia failed. Now, both politics and age create an obstacle I can’t climb, for the first time. At least for now.

Shards of words fly like planes through the political jungle. Everything is wrong but nothing can be done. Too much information overwhelming. Good, true voices speak out against the bad never loud enough never quiet enough to be heard. On it goes, humanity as bleak a species as a tin cat.

Still we are here, and things are getting worse.

The planet is partly on fire.

Animals are becoming extinct.

The virus is spiking again, not unexpectedly.

I have spent most of the summer, it is now Autumn’s edge, tending to plants for bees, and butterflies, and feeding and watering birds in the heat, In my garden, in a small part of Devon, in England’s less fair land. Watching them. I have spent time working at home, doing jigsaws, cooking from fresh, baking, keeping my beautiful rescue cat, Purple, company and her me, and she who became my heart. Random hellos over the fence to neighbours, phones calls, sifting dating sites, minimising my belongings, online learning about meditation from Buddhists. Sleeping reasonably, restless episodes, angry strides about the place taken out on the vacum cleaner once a week.

Appear to have become the safest person in this area, remained in lockdown since March. No transport so I’m stuck, will not use public considering, new to the area last year so have friends here. It’s felt like being under house arrest. For six months. Found the sun has relaxed me thus far, the air, garden nature, unsure how winter and indoors will grind me down. Partly terrified, bemused, depressed and resolved all at once.

So the winter came, baking went out the window, keeping cosy ensued. Movies and games, changing the plants about in their pots, rescuing bulbs for next Spring. Did a lot more stomping about and felt lonelier, disengaged from a workteam, those who wentin verses those who WFH . Of course the lockdowns reoccurred when expected – after public releases.