Living in the same space, looking at the same walls, seeing the same people, doing the same things day after day after day, the hidden things have taken on more importance.
The lacy red bra that I wear under my comfy sweater during interminable video calls, the moments of silent prayer that sustain me when I hear yet more discouraging news, the inner voice that reminds me to cage up those monkeys jumping around inside my head telling me what I should do, can do, what I have left undone, should not have done… The quiet practices that help me maintain my sense of calm and my sense of joy – walking, reading, praying, connecting, talking, writing, sleeping, rest, creative work.
And an inner sense of loving humour to forgive and laugh my way through my daily stumbles – forgeting to unmute on that call, mixing up the clean and dirty laundry, imagining I can do twelve hours work in seven, handling the unexpected bubbling up of grief, realising yet again I have absolutely no idea what we are having for dinner, binge watching five episodes of that show because the remote was just slightly out of reach.
And wondering what those terribly serious people on the video call would say if they knew that I put on that lacy red bra just for them.
Seeker of Wisdom 