THE SMALLER THE BETTER
A day of torrential rain yesterday washed August away and I curled up on the couch and read an entire novel in one go. I can’t remember the last time I did that. It felt good. Felt good to focus on one thing for hours. It’s been a while.
When this virus was officially entitled a pandemic and lockdown ensued I, like many of us, felt a surge of relief from the sudden halt of commerce and consumption. Sure, I also felt resentful that my age was thrust in my face due to the fact that I am in my 70’s (really?) and therefore designated most at risk. All the same, the plane-free sky and traffic-free streets lent a sort of holiday air to life. Like newly recovering alcoholics I entered a sort of ‘pink cloud’ phase: finally the world could hit the re-set button and we all would become conscious, spiritual beings. It’s called ‘magical thinking.’
I got off to a good start; writing for the blog again after a long hiatus; starting a new novel; walking two miles a day and so on. But about 6 weeks in a strange lethargy took over. I felt like a scrim had descended in front of my brain making it hard to decipher the new reality. By about 8 weeks in it became obvious that there was no re-set button and that not only was there a frightening percentage of humanity incapable of waking up, but their magical thinking wasn’t as nice as mine. That’s when the fire curtain came down and I retreated to the dimly lit backstage of my mind. The novel froze at Chapter 5 and all those books I was going to read..? I think I’ve averaged one a month. Maybe. Read a few pages, check the news, do a bit of weeding, play a game, do a puzzle, cook, eat and finally the utter relief of falling in to bed; another day survived and done with.
This past Sunday our friend Gianni stopped by. He’d just been up the road visiting Libera and Fortunato. You may remember them from previous posts. They are contidini in their 70’s and 80’s respectively and are as close to self-sufficient as is possible in today’s world. They grow grain and grapes and olives, hens and pigeons. Libera has an enormous orgainic garden where you can buy baskets of vegetables, salad, fruits and tomatoes the size of a planet…all for a few euro. Their table wine costs 2 euro a bottle, likewise their olive oil.
Fortunato, along with his brother, works long days on the land. Once in a while I catch sight of him walking from one chore to the next, always at the same unhurried pace. His BMI is zero and in summer, shirtless and seen from behind you could easily mistake him for a man in his 40’s.
Gianni tells us that the night before, Fortunato had woken shortly after midnight. An animal, perhaps a fox or boar, has been going into the corn patch and eating the grain. This grain is grown solely to feed their hens that weekly produce dozens of eggs. He decides to go see if he can catch the bugger. When asked if he succeeded he shrugs and tells Gianni he fell asleep squatting in the corn so decided to go lay down in the grass and finish sleeping there, which he did until dawn.
That same day a friend sends me an article - I will embed the link at the end of this post – which addresses the lethargy we are all feeling. It talks about our “surge capacity.” How when natural disaster happen e.g., earthquakes, hurricanes, fires, floods, we get a surge of energy that helps us cope. But those disasters happen suddenly and then are over and recovery and rebuilding start immediately. Pandemics, as we are discovering, seem to go on forever and our “surge capacity” is not equipped to deal with its longevity. Also, natural disasters don’t affect the whole world at once and thanks to 24/7 media we are continually being overwhelmed by what seems to be the impossible enormity of this thing.
This sense we have of the enormity of the world and the false belief that social media has encouraged - that we are all connected – has, in the last twenty years contributed to our global and individual anxiety; the feeling of needing always to go faster, achieve more, have more stuff, more followers, more likes etc., etc. Then, suddenly, it all comes to a halt and the world that we thought we were a part of is gone in a puff. No wonder young people are gathering en masse, whether to party or protest; they need to feel the world is limitless, that they can take it back from we who ruined it. And, let’s be honest here and say can you blame them if some may seem not to care if they infect us? We, who infected the world and then said, here, it’s all yours now.
I digress. What I’m trying to get to is that I’m realizing I need to unwind from a lifetime of trying to achieve more than I’m capable of. Remember the old wall phones with those long, spiraling cords that let you pace while you talked? Remember how, after too many calls, the cord would get all twisted up on itself becoming less flexible and eventually pinned you to the wall? Then you’d have to take the phone of the hook and dangle it upside down until it unwound. That’s how I’ve been feeling, upside down and unwinding.
Libera and Fortunato haven’t experienced the pandemic like most of us. Their world, their whole lives, has been contained by tending a few acres of land. Yes, sometimes an animal eats the grain or a hailstorm damages the grapes. Sometimes they cry when a fox kills the hens. But they keep going at a steady pace, watching the weather, pruning the olive trees, putting up preserves and tomato sauce. I will never be able to live like them because I wasn’t born to it and I’m too old to learn. But I’m not too old to learn how to make my world smaller and as a result less overwhelming.
September arrived this morning; the ground, drenched from yesterday’s rain combined with the night’s low temperature shrouding the valley in mist. By mid-morning the sun appeared and cleaned the sky to a crisp blue. We put on long pants for the first time in months and drove into the village to shop for food, stopping here and there to greet villagers, shopkeepers, a friend. Simple. Small. Savoury. The chimney sweep came this afternoon. When he was finished we stood talking in the garden. He showed us photos of his four-year old twins and asked if we missed New York. No. Family and friends? Yes. But here we are, bringing it all in close.
The air is chill now. Maybe we’ll light a small fire.
Here is the link to the article
https://elemental.medium.com/your-surge-capacity-is-depleted-it-s-why-you-feel-awful-de285d542f4c
Take good care of yourselves.
Love, Maggie
