Times are a-changing
It's Monday, and I have just finished work. I have been out of the house and off to a different place to do something different to what I have become accustomed to. Life is changing, yet again. It is a bit of a shock to the system. I am having to perform tasks I would not necessarily choose to do but are necessary to do. That is the world of work. It has been a challenge to invent my own activities on a daily basis, but a challenge which has, on the whole, been really worthwhile. At long last I have learnt to do the activities which before the lockdown, only formulated in my head.
I am grateful that I am returning to a job that is, for the most part, enjoyable and perhaps more importantly worthwhile. This feeling of gratitude has not made my recent walks to work any less sobering, as I consider that after the brief interlude of my lockdown situation, I return, possibly for the next 20 years or so. I walk to work, in gratitude twinged with slight dread - how do I avoid the exhaustion that I have felt in the past? And how do I hold on to the hobbies I have acquired, no matter how trivial they seem to the outsider, because through them I have gained a robust sense of self that I guess has been a long time missing. Writing two or three times a week has been a grounding experience. Sometimes I began a blank page with a strong idea of the subject and the words I would formulate but on many occasion I looked at a blank page and flicked through ideas in my head like my child self going through the toy section of the Argos catalogue. I mostly found something that could be fashioned into paragraphs with a pinch of structure and an element of sense. The joy of creating something from nothing has been like a link that was missing, before this journal I would often complain that I was not able to be creative and now I feel that that creative feeling is creeping back into my toes. I am scared to loose this tentative creative feeling, like a seedling it requires protection from inclement weather and neglect. I worry that once my head is filled with the necessities of working I will not hold enough neurological energy to turn a blank page into something again. Will the blank page just become a task that I become ill-equipped to tackle?
The lockdown journal was always primarily a self-centred endeavour, I wanted to practise writing again and I found myself with a little more time on my hands. I did not envisage the life lessons it would reveal. It has been nothing short of uplifting that some people have read my words and enjoyed the journey I took them on. It has taken a lockdown and a journal to reveal how isolated I have allowed myself to be, how I keep many of my thoughts away, so as not to be criticised - through this journal I have allowed a little more to be revealed and it has been met positively. I am still cowardly, there are many things that I am not ready to write about, even though they are close to my heart but I am learning slowly, that I am strong enough to withstand the criticism. And it is OK to think and act differently to the way I have been expected to, and sometimes that is where personal freedom lies.
There are lots more things to write about, there are many ways to form something out of a blank page and I would really like to get better at that. I would like to branch out and make it less of a self-centred activity and more of a journey for others. Everything is going to change now, I cannot spend as much time looking into a blank page and searching for the words to come but I hope I have fed this seedling of creativity enough to withstand the oncoming weathers, I hope I can nourish this seedling enough for it to grow to its potential.
I am grateful that I am returning to a job that is, for the most part, enjoyable and perhaps more importantly worthwhile. This feeling of gratitude has not made my recent walks to work any less sobering, as I consider that after the brief interlude of my lockdown situation, I return, possibly for the next 20 years or so. I walk to work, in gratitude twinged with slight dread - how do I avoid the exhaustion that I have felt in the past? And how do I hold on to the hobbies I have acquired, no matter how trivial they seem to the outsider, because through them I have gained a robust sense of self that I guess has been a long time missing. Writing two or three times a week has been a grounding experience. Sometimes I began a blank page with a strong idea of the subject and the words I would formulate but on many occasion I looked at a blank page and flicked through ideas in my head like my child self going through the toy section of the Argos catalogue. I mostly found something that could be fashioned into paragraphs with a pinch of structure and an element of sense. The joy of creating something from nothing has been like a link that was missing, before this journal I would often complain that I was not able to be creative and now I feel that that creative feeling is creeping back into my toes. I am scared to loose this tentative creative feeling, like a seedling it requires protection from inclement weather and neglect. I worry that once my head is filled with the necessities of working I will not hold enough neurological energy to turn a blank page into something again. Will the blank page just become a task that I become ill-equipped to tackle?
The lockdown journal was always primarily a self-centred endeavour, I wanted to practise writing again and I found myself with a little more time on my hands. I did not envisage the life lessons it would reveal. It has been nothing short of uplifting that some people have read my words and enjoyed the journey I took them on. It has taken a lockdown and a journal to reveal how isolated I have allowed myself to be, how I keep many of my thoughts away, so as not to be criticised - through this journal I have allowed a little more to be revealed and it has been met positively. I am still cowardly, there are many things that I am not ready to write about, even though they are close to my heart but I am learning slowly, that I am strong enough to withstand the criticism. And it is OK to think and act differently to the way I have been expected to, and sometimes that is where personal freedom lies.
There are lots more things to write about, there are many ways to form something out of a blank page and I would really like to get better at that. I would like to branch out and make it less of a self-centred activity and more of a journey for others. Everything is going to change now, I cannot spend as much time looking into a blank page and searching for the words to come but I hope I have fed this seedling of creativity enough to withstand the oncoming weathers, I hope I can nourish this seedling enough for it to grow to its potential.
Comments
Post a Comment