Covid-19, A Rural Diary - Lockdown 3 - Searching for the Light

I think everyone will agree that this third UK Lockdown has been the hardest. We’re weary of the restrictions, while acknowledging their end-game. We’re not festive season fatigued because it didn’t happen - so instead of relishing some quiet time we’re actually desperate to get out and socialise. For many the loneliness is taking a heavy toll, for others being crammed inside with your parents and/or your kids while attempting to home-school and work is a stress-filled nightmare. On top of that, it’s midwinter and we’ve had long dark nights, howling gales, floods, arctic temperatures, and ice and snow to contend with as well. 

I count myself lucky. I live in a beautiful rural location, I have a house large enough for us all to have plenty of personal space, I have a lovely garden and sublime views, my kids are old enough to be independent as well as old enough to provide good company and support. My husband has recently retired, so he is around as a more supportive presence as well. 

Why then, have I, too, been so listless? Why have I suffered from such lack of motivation, such inertia? Some days have been better than others, it is true. On those days I have managed to crack on with some much-needed-doing jobs around the house, or I’ve managed some exercise beyond walking, or I’ve made a dessert. (I never make desserts, hence this is notable!) But generally my mood is, well...de-energised, I would say. 

Do I still want to do Zoom Yoga on a Thursday? Do I still want to do Online Choir practise on a Monday? The novelty is certainly wearing off in all departments. Even Zoom calls or FaceTimes with mates is losing its otherwise social appeal as we all have so very little to say to each other. We are basically not living our lives as we’ve been used to living them, so there is not much to report. I’m even weary of discussing the pandemic. Aren’t you? I’m sick of the hate, the Twitter trolling, the finger-pointing. So what do you do? You retreat into your shell and you go into survival mode. You baton down the hatches. You hibernate. Indeed, there is much to be learnt from the natural world and its age-old rhythms, too long forgotten. 

So what have I been doing, during this enforced hibernation, since I say I have been doing very little? Well, this low-energy life is not all bad - it is just not what we’re used to. There has been a bit of gentle gardening activity when the weather permits. There have been the ubiquitous dog walks. There has been the feeding of the family, both literal and emotional. I have been doing a lot of healing work as people struggle in their own ways with this reality. There have been births and deaths to celebrate and contemplate and console. And I have been learning, always learning, my greatest joy. 

And I guess this is exactly where we take a leaf out of Nature’s book. Just as trees and plants send their energy down into their roots, Winter is the natural time for us to turn our attention inwards too. It is a time for introspection, for inner rather than outer growth. If Spring and Summer are all about action, then Winter is all about reflection. If the longer days are conducive to the physical, then the shorter ones are conducive to the spiritual. Light can be both physical and spiritual. So, perhaps, when we emerge blinking from this hibernation as the days lengthen, we should remember what we have learnt: namely, that there is Light all around us, all the time. We just need to know where to look for it.