It’s been almost a year since Covid shut down the rhythms of our lives. Now, it seems, we can begin to imagine life without the restrictions of the pandemic. I’d love to hear your thoughts and encourage a discussion below, good readers of this Covid Diary, about what you would keep of this pandemic life, what you would ditch of the old ways. The door to a future without Covid is opening very slowly, which gives us, I think, a unique opportunity to reflect on what we have learned in the last year.
Much of what has been said so well in this thread holds true for me as well. On top of my list of things to keep are: leaving blank spaces in the calendar, keeping up with my poetry writing and music making, feeling less of a need to impress anybody, and wearing sweat pants.
Lists of tasks, plans for each day, means of meeting deadlines for running my life and helping family efficiently... ways of feeling productive in the outer and inner world have been pushed aside this last year. Difficult to do in the beginning of the necessary pandemic-produced isolation last March. Easily followed now, this March. With the completion of my second inoculation last week, I now feel exuberant at the possibility of receiving a kiss from my daughter on March 10, which she has announced she will give me on that date, two weeks from my last inoculation. Closeness. Hugs. Mask-free meals with family indoors. Museums. Car rides with family and friends who are sane in their protection plans. Freedom from anxiety when in the grocery store...all still masked...but not age and physical handicap placing me fully in the path of the pandemic Reaper.
However, I fear the responsibility of resuming my postponed tasks. I'm not certain I want to be that efficient again. Once, a few years ago after falling from my horse at high speed and breaking my humerus badly enough to warrant about eight or nine inches of titanium rod to be inserted to pull together the bone that remained intact, I spent a summer in a faded canvas lawn chair on the banks of the Kennebec river, reading and writing and dozing beneath the pines and listening to the shushing of the current and the fierce rushing of the battling waters as the ocean tides claimed their salty right to invade the fresh downward stream at Doubling Point. I loved that summer. When my arm healed, I went back to my galloping life. Now I'm older. My energy feeds a fast trot/tolt at best. I'm not at all sure that I want or can resume my pre-pandemic schedule. I am grateful, so very grateful, that I am here and have that choice...I hope I have the wisdom to make the most of whatever is "...meet and right so to do."
With society opening up, I plan to keep to my present schedule of working on my writing. For years I have wanted to write. But I find, having been a teacher and school administrator, that I was used to being busy. I had days filled with appointments, obligations, and meetings. When the day ended, I would put aside some time for myself. It included exercise at the gym or yoga classes. After that time was given over to family, my kids and my husband. In the late hours, I would do some writing. During our sheltering in place, I read and wrote, wrote and read, revising two books, writing new poems, refining the poems in ways I had never done, giving myself completely to them, not just tidying them up but seriously crafting them, not letting them go until each word, each line worked. I did the same with a novel. I honed sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. I sent the novel to an editor who redlined it, cut an enormous amount. Now I'm going back, giving it more attention, deciding what can stay and what can go. To give this time up as a writer is not something I want to do. The pandemic gave me a gift of focus. Instead of being distracted by going here and there, spending a lot of time on the road, I turned the traffic inward and let my travel be in words. If I can get out, I want to do it sparingly. I enjoy being home with my husband, spending a whole morning cooking our meals, long days reading books of poems and novels, eyeing our gardens, caring for them. I will enjoy seeing friends, having them for dinner. Since my life changed with COVID, I'm not in a hurry for any of this happening. Like someone who has discovered the richness of being here, I will cautiously explore my being there.
In the early months I was surprised at how much less money we were spending. Obviously, we had stopped paying for things we did when we were out and about, but it was a significant monthly amount (and we were always careful spenders). The savings came from not eating out and not making social and business trips into Washington. Those occasions will return -- soon, I hope -- but I'd like to retain some of those savings... and blow them on some serious traveling.
I also was surprised at how little I have chafed at my quieter life. I've not had cabin fever. I've been content to spend almost all my time with Stephenie, at home, just the two of us. All my life I've been busy but I'm not bored by these quiet times. Mind you, they're not all quiet. There's talking, reading, cooking, doing chores. A little TV, a few careful trips to keep family obligations.
Stephenie IS bored occasionally, no doubt because of her poor choice in housemate. So the amount of Covid quietude we retain will be subject to negotiation.
I learned that less is sufficient. And I’m reminded that what is less for us would be abundance for many.
I‘ve enjoyed the slowness, the sense of living in the moment, the uninterrupted time. I already know how to keep myself happy by creating my own projects and challenges, and that has served me well during pandemic restrictions. I’ve made beautiful textiles, developed a project for a local non-profit, and bake artisan bread as good as you can buy in the big city.
My husband and I give thanks for each day together. Our sources for both contentment and adventure come from our surroundings — walking forest paths, paddling clear waters, tending the birds in our yard, enjoying the warmth of the winter sun. Web courses and Zoom gatherings allow us to participate in a wider range of events than we normally would have and we hope this will be part of a new normal going forward.
My pandemic contentment has been derived from necessity, and awareness of its limited duration. I look forward to normalcy, with the freedom to travel, to socialize with friends and family, and even to enjoy someone else’s cooking. But I will always want to return to the simplicity and peacefulness that have soothed us during Covid times.
I want to keep more time for myself, post-covid. More reflection time, more time to paint, time to just "fanny about" as my friend Pam says. I didn't even know I was missing it in my pre-covid life, but boy was I.
As an older child I found great comfort in the room where I slept. I of course referred to it as “my room” not unlike I refer to my studio as “my room” now at 66 years old. I loved going in my room as a teenager and spending hours and hours. I felt cocooned and protected from whatever was on the other side of the door. I wasn’t judged and played house and listen to music in there for hours.
I feel now that the universe through this pandemic has given me permission to stay in that “room” again. My room today is a home in the woods and much much bigger than that room I had as a kid but no more meaningful. I am afraid of losing that permission I have now when the pandemic is in the past. I am thrilled for all others that they can decide what there life is like and want to expand beyond their “room” but I know there are many of us that are just happy with the protection the pandemic has demanded. Thank you Kathleen for always writing a thought provoking blog or in this case creating a forum where I can write about what I already know.
Permission comes to mind when I think about living “in” during Covid and in reading bspang4’s post. I have had permission to say no to social invitations with masks and social distancing. I have had permission not to feel guilty for so many things. I have had an external ‘NO’ I can’t do that because of the virus. I haven’t had time yet to internalize that ‘NO’ so I am not ready for the virus to be over-of course I want the virus over for so many reasons but can I keep the excuse for a little longer?
Much of what has been said so well in this thread holds true for me as well. On top of my list of things to keep are: leaving blank spaces in the calendar, keeping up with my poetry writing and music making, feeling less of a need to impress anybody, and wearing sweat pants.
Lists of tasks, plans for each day, means of meeting deadlines for running my life and helping family efficiently... ways of feeling productive in the outer and inner world have been pushed aside this last year. Difficult to do in the beginning of the necessary pandemic-produced isolation last March. Easily followed now, this March. With the completion of my second inoculation last week, I now feel exuberant at the possibility of receiving a kiss from my daughter on March 10, which she has announced she will give me on that date, two weeks from my last inoculation. Closeness. Hugs. Mask-free meals with family indoors. Museums. Car rides with family and friends who are sane in their protection plans. Freedom from anxiety when in the grocery store...all still masked...but not age and physical handicap placing me fully in the path of the pandemic Reaper.
However, I fear the responsibility of resuming my postponed tasks. I'm not certain I want to be that efficient again. Once, a few years ago after falling from my horse at high speed and breaking my humerus badly enough to warrant about eight or nine inches of titanium rod to be inserted to pull together the bone that remained intact, I spent a summer in a faded canvas lawn chair on the banks of the Kennebec river, reading and writing and dozing beneath the pines and listening to the shushing of the current and the fierce rushing of the battling waters as the ocean tides claimed their salty right to invade the fresh downward stream at Doubling Point. I loved that summer. When my arm healed, I went back to my galloping life. Now I'm older. My energy feeds a fast trot/tolt at best. I'm not at all sure that I want or can resume my pre-pandemic schedule. I am grateful, so very grateful, that I am here and have that choice...I hope I have the wisdom to make the most of whatever is "...meet and right so to do."
With society opening up, I plan to keep to my present schedule of working on my writing. For years I have wanted to write. But I find, having been a teacher and school administrator, that I was used to being busy. I had days filled with appointments, obligations, and meetings. When the day ended, I would put aside some time for myself. It included exercise at the gym or yoga classes. After that time was given over to family, my kids and my husband. In the late hours, I would do some writing. During our sheltering in place, I read and wrote, wrote and read, revising two books, writing new poems, refining the poems in ways I had never done, giving myself completely to them, not just tidying them up but seriously crafting them, not letting them go until each word, each line worked. I did the same with a novel. I honed sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. I sent the novel to an editor who redlined it, cut an enormous amount. Now I'm going back, giving it more attention, deciding what can stay and what can go. To give this time up as a writer is not something I want to do. The pandemic gave me a gift of focus. Instead of being distracted by going here and there, spending a lot of time on the road, I turned the traffic inward and let my travel be in words. If I can get out, I want to do it sparingly. I enjoy being home with my husband, spending a whole morning cooking our meals, long days reading books of poems and novels, eyeing our gardens, caring for them. I will enjoy seeing friends, having them for dinner. Since my life changed with COVID, I'm not in a hurry for any of this happening. Like someone who has discovered the richness of being here, I will cautiously explore my being there.
In the early months I was surprised at how much less money we were spending. Obviously, we had stopped paying for things we did when we were out and about, but it was a significant monthly amount (and we were always careful spenders). The savings came from not eating out and not making social and business trips into Washington. Those occasions will return -- soon, I hope -- but I'd like to retain some of those savings... and blow them on some serious traveling.
I also was surprised at how little I have chafed at my quieter life. I've not had cabin fever. I've been content to spend almost all my time with Stephenie, at home, just the two of us. All my life I've been busy but I'm not bored by these quiet times. Mind you, they're not all quiet. There's talking, reading, cooking, doing chores. A little TV, a few careful trips to keep family obligations.
Stephenie IS bored occasionally, no doubt because of her poor choice in housemate. So the amount of Covid quietude we retain will be subject to negotiation.
I learned that less is sufficient. And I’m reminded that what is less for us would be abundance for many.
I‘ve enjoyed the slowness, the sense of living in the moment, the uninterrupted time. I already know how to keep myself happy by creating my own projects and challenges, and that has served me well during pandemic restrictions. I’ve made beautiful textiles, developed a project for a local non-profit, and bake artisan bread as good as you can buy in the big city.
My husband and I give thanks for each day together. Our sources for both contentment and adventure come from our surroundings — walking forest paths, paddling clear waters, tending the birds in our yard, enjoying the warmth of the winter sun. Web courses and Zoom gatherings allow us to participate in a wider range of events than we normally would have and we hope this will be part of a new normal going forward.
My pandemic contentment has been derived from necessity, and awareness of its limited duration. I look forward to normalcy, with the freedom to travel, to socialize with friends and family, and even to enjoy someone else’s cooking. But I will always want to return to the simplicity and peacefulness that have soothed us during Covid times.
I want to keep more time for myself, post-covid. More reflection time, more time to paint, time to just "fanny about" as my friend Pam says. I didn't even know I was missing it in my pre-covid life, but boy was I.
As an older child I found great comfort in the room where I slept. I of course referred to it as “my room” not unlike I refer to my studio as “my room” now at 66 years old. I loved going in my room as a teenager and spending hours and hours. I felt cocooned and protected from whatever was on the other side of the door. I wasn’t judged and played house and listen to music in there for hours.
I feel now that the universe through this pandemic has given me permission to stay in that “room” again. My room today is a home in the woods and much much bigger than that room I had as a kid but no more meaningful. I am afraid of losing that permission I have now when the pandemic is in the past. I am thrilled for all others that they can decide what there life is like and want to expand beyond their “room” but I know there are many of us that are just happy with the protection the pandemic has demanded. Thank you Kathleen for always writing a thought provoking blog or in this case creating a forum where I can write about what I already know.
Permission comes to mind when I think about living “in” during Covid and in reading bspang4’s post. I have had permission to say no to social invitations with masks and social distancing. I have had permission not to feel guilty for so many things. I have had an external ‘NO’ I can’t do that because of the virus. I haven’t had time yet to internalize that ‘NO’ so I am not ready for the virus to be over-of course I want the virus over for so many reasons but can I keep the excuse for a little longer?