Sarah’s Journal

06 Jun

Posted at 14:21h in Sarah's Journal by

As an only child, I struggled to learn the rules of play. My games were often solitary imaginings of ‘house’, dolls being ‘mothered’ my way. Eventually I developed impulses to create – ‘Spirogyro’ patterns, badly spelled poems and an illustrated story about ‘My Aunt’. Dexter has always been more hands on. He introduced me to his games of make-believe, where he imagined, dressed up, and we acted out his devisings with him. “You be the shark, and now you fight me…” From an early age, he would suggest costume ideas, “fun-fur patchwork hoody?”, which I would procure. His eyes blazed then, as they do now, with fierce intensity as he conjured up worlds to escape into. He taught me to play, helped me to bring forth some of my reticence to get involved. We are still playing together. “It’s going to be a story, where I get messier and messier. I’ll wear my pink fluffy jacket. Can you find me a table cloth?” Each of us has a part to play. We all revel with delight, in the creative process, and it’s fun. I source the yoghurt.

05 Jun

Posted at 20:14h in Sarah's Journal by

Summer has come early. Sunshine has blazed through May. People in before times sat enclosed in air tight offices, the boxed in confines of schools, over-priced flats, houses and stuffy tube trains. Under lockdown they have been gradually coming out into green spaces. As I perform my daily pilgrimage with companions, dogs and pram, I witness the ebb and flow of training routines, an increased surge of bicycles and joggers, and now picnics. In spite of the political ‘hokey-cokey’ of lockdown regulations, rosy cheeks are blooming. Peonies display their fabulous array of petals, catching my eye. I drink it all in – the healthy motion, the lush hedgerows, the abundance of life, my delight in the colour pink.

28 Apr

Posted at 20:58h in Sarah's Journal by

Dr Bessel Van Der Kolk, expert on trauma, recently said about the Global Coronavirus Crisis: “I think we are in a pre-traumatic condition, namely the conditions for psychological trauma are rife.” Whatever may be the causes, the statistics, the political and financial manoeuvres, we are experiencing a collective challenge. This will affect each of us differently on a personal level. I am mindful that for those who were already dealing with trauma or the chronic consequences of trauma, the threat of the virus and the consequences of illness, or of the lockdown itself, will add to the emotional load on the nervous system. Just as for those who are already dealing with underlying physical health conditions, the virus will add to the viral load on the immune system. London is a city that has a huge gap between rich and poor. For many there is little or no financial cushion. Old and young, frail or healthy face different threat levels. Key worker or unemployed, with inverse stresses. I don’t know how this crisis will unfold, and how many will face tragedy of one kind or another. Sometimes trauma comes with a visible wound, but often it lurks in PTSD, and other chronic conditions. During my own stay at home, I am glued to Carolyn Spring’s on-line trauma trainings. With whatever comes next, it feels as though these will provide important understanding for me to draw upon further along the curve of Covid-19’s impact.
www.carolynspring.com
www.besselvanderkolk.com

26 Apr

Posted at 14:57h in Sarah's Journal by

I am curious about this time of review, re-evaluate, retreat. It seems that for those whose work is absolutely necessary, there is a new respect. For many others, normal activity has been suspended and something different is taking place. At odds with the surge of growth that is happening outside, I am held back from the usual outpourings of social energy, of being out in the world. Instead, I am tending to new seeds. For me, this darkness is the compost for creative ideas to germinate. I am feeding my soil with the conditions for learning. I am taking in good food, wise words, sunshine and water. Alongside, I watch Dexter growing into a DJ. Named for this expression of rhythm and joy, he becomes more self-assured as he plays. He takes particular pleasure in sourcing tunes that will make us wiggle. We dance as he streams music out into the ether. What are you incubating?

25 Apr

Posted at 08:35h in Sarah's Journal by

There is a change to our regular physics of interaction. Like pairs of magnets, people are either driven together or pushed apart. It feels as though each household is trying to find a new equilibrium through being alone and seeking ways to reach out, or being together and seeking autonomy. Sewn into my wedding shawl, my mother embroidered me these words by Khalil Gibran, “Let there be spaces in your togetherness”. They speak powerfully to my need for ‘self-regulation’ time alone. We walk as a pair on the marshes observing a strict two metres from other members of the local community. We dodge people on the pavement as though we are avoiding the cracks. At home we come together in a group then break apart, creating an ebb and flow of connection. This motion allows us to share food, build conversations, cuddle up, but then we return to our individual spaces to work, to be creative, or to contemplate. I imagine a cosmic eye observing this molecular pulsing dance.

20 Apr

Posted at 18:07h in Sarah's Journal by

I am not a key worker. I am not experiencing a life endangering situation. This household is currently well. I am conscious that anything may change at a moment’s notice. I am choosing not to take more risks than necessary. However, this leaves me feeling powerless and impotent. I feel as though I am not offering much to my local community. I love seeing pictures of rainbows made by children appear in windows as I walk past each morning. So, I made this banner to offer a simple expression of love, of solidarity. Some people look and smile as they pass. It felt as though this was something I could actually achieve. I hope it may serve as a reminder to value kindness, and to feel connected.

17 Apr

Posted at 13:23h in Sarah's Journal by

“You really look after your teeth”, were the muffled words from behind the mask. “I need to”, I think but don’t say, as I reflect on my complex dental history. I am extremely grateful to this unfamiliar dentist who is peering at the hole in my mouth where a crown has been dislodged. A sharp edge on the remaining fragment of tooth is lacerating my tongue. He wrestles to fit a metal clamp over my tooth in thick black latex gloves. I would smile if I could at the choice of pink dental dam. I am lucky. Not only does my dental practice have an emergency clinic during the ‘shut-down’, but this particular dental problem does not require an ‘aerosol generating procedure’, ie drilling. Tooth drilling is only to be carried out in the most extreme emergencies according to the latest government guidelines. I recommend spending the extra time to brush behind that wonky molar, to floss or use a tee pee. This dentist anticipates that routine dental care is unlikely to be available for months ahead. I shall be nibbling carefully next time I eat a piece of rustic toast, and will brush diligently afterwards.

14 Apr

Posted at 12:03h in Sarah's Journal by

I am devoted to connection face to face, through touch, heart to heart, and in community. Restricted from happening in person, meetings beyond our household now take place on line. From the vantage point of my childhood, we are now in Star Trek technology. I feel deeply conflicted about virtual engagement, but also see the advantages of connecting far and wide without leaving home. Those who can’t afford or can’t cope with the technology are penalised. I feel reluctant about holding space on line. Others lead as I join meetings, share feelings in this way. Communicating using both face and the sound of your voice hold me closer than a disembodied voice alone. Recently I have followed my Pilates class, while seeing the décor of each student’s home. I have lain under a blanket while others snuggle up elsewhere for a sound bath. I have breathed with a screen full of other open mouths and rising chests. I have attended work meetings with participants across the UK, and I have jiggled as a tiny form on a tessellated screen with dancers around the globe. I am curious to watch how our digital selves will evolve. Most of all I value the people I am lucky enough to be in proximity to. Opportunities for skin to skin connection, for conversations within two metres are highly prized.

11 Apr

Posted at 10:36h in Sarah's Journal by

Many things that are not essential have been foregone. Enough food is fundamental. Now each item on the shopping list must be considered and foraged for. I feel as though I am giving each provision due thought, attention and gratitude. A month ago, we had a surfeit of lemons. I froze a bag, and since then have been grating frozen lemon onto dishes and into mugs of hot water. Today we bought more lemons. Hygiene protocols mean that we wash each item that comes into the house. Tony efficiently presides over the sink as our ‘Supplies Operations Manager’. I admire the spectacle of sunlight playing on zest. Lemons, then broccoli and leeks jostle in soap suds. I cook supper. Ingredients are invited like favoured guests to join our culinary spread. Each flavour is a valued addition. Shades of green from roast fennel to avocado and spinach salad with pesto dressing decorate our plates. Mushroom and coconut sauce on pasta spirals completes the tableaux. ‘When life gives you lemons…’

09 Apr

Posted at 18:39h in Sarah's Journal by

In the midst of restrictions, here is beauty. Nature is unfurling full steam ahead, ripe with life. Blue sky and fat white blossom at its most open. Each day more petals fall like confetti. The cherry tree in South Millfields has no regard for pandemic regulations. Leaves are coming, blossom showers in celebration of spring. I walk the dogs, gulp in fresh air, blue sky, sunshine and trees. At night I pad across the carpet to the bathroom where moonlight illuminates the toilet. I feel my cells respond to larger forces. Sweat, then cool keeps me awake at 2am, in my new day by day existence. Walking the dogs, anchored by nature’s disregard for anxiety holds me steady. This is my spiritual practice. I delight in watching noses twitch in the breeze, feel grounded by capturing shit in small green plastic bags. This cherry tree is now a place of pilgrimage. I breathe it all in, stand less than two metres from its trunk.