Saturday 3 July 2021

730 things — Day 114 of 365

 I keep thinking I'll have to stop this because I'm running out of things to dispose of, but then I keep finding one more thing and one more thing . . . And I still haven't sorted out the cupboard under the stairs with the boxes of DIY odds and ends, and I haven't checked the attic to be absolutely sure I have nothing up there (I can think of one thing put by just in case, even now). So we roll on. 

But on other matters, I'm wondering how you are? This pandemic has been so long now, and we still aren't through. Everyone in our house has had both vaccine shots, and people in the street are less nervy about being in the same space and passing one another. Even so, Covid numbers are still rising in our area (as in most), and we must still observe social distancing and wear masks on public transport and in the stores. The little shops limit numbers of customers at one time still, and restrictions on social gatherings remain in place. 

As the year has gone on, with the pandemic and also the wave of spiritual change moving in step with it — the rise of political fascism, the spread of poverty, the sense of deepening lostness and confusion and helplessness/vulnerability, the sense of critical mass reached in climate change urgency coupled with lack of political will to tackle it properly, increasing social alienation, the many bereavements of one kind or another — so much is different now.

The women in our house feel lost and very tired (we also have a man but he doesn't feel the same). To me, it feels like a waiting space — like the moment in a tsunami when the wave draws back and there's a hiatus. I don't know at all what's coming, but it certainly feels as though something is. I may be wrong of course, and it may be applicable just to my own life, but . . . My spirit is alert, watching, waiting. Quiet on its watchtower.

And yet I — and I am not alone, other friends report the same — again and again receive, from outside myself, from the Divine, the reassurance, "All shall be well." It comes to me so often, very peaceful, very steady, very sure.

But how about you? How do things look when you scan your horizons? What are you experiencing in your body and soul? 



Today, to go, two pairs of trousers.




 They are nice but not as entirely 100% comfortably as I fussily demand my trousers have to be. To the charity shop, then.

6 comments:

Suzan said...

I am so tired of our government and the mishandling of the vaccine rollout . The federal government blames the state and vice versa.

Personally this means I have not hand one shot and my mother has had one. Our doctors' surgery was given 25 vaccines a week for 12 doctors to share. Then I have had to fight long and had to avoid the astra zenica shot as I have a blood clotting disorder. I finally have an appointment for this Thursday and our state government says they will run out of vaccine on Monday. A n appeal was sent to the commonwealth government for extra vaccine to be released and it was denied. This is our second winter with covid and we have been in lockdown again. I am in a high risk category too. Yet if I lived in another state I would be fully vaccinated by now.

Our numbers remain low and e have had very few deaths but how come the rest of the world is rolling out vaccine and our country is not?

Pen Wilcock said...

I am so sorry you're having all this worry, and feeling so weary. May these things resolve for you soon. x

Anonymous said...

Early one morning last week I took my cup of tea into the garden to breathe the cool, fresh air and to savour the total peace. As I sat on the step I noticed two snails cuddled up and asleep. So lovely.
I was very careful to avoid them as I set about watering and moving about the garden - but 40 minutes later I knocked a pot over which landed and damaged the shells of one of those sleeping snails. I was so so sorry and gently moved them into the flower bed. It struck me forcibly that this is what we're living with. No one is trying to cause harm and yet by simply being in the wrong place or not paying enough attention deaths are caused; and if not death, certainly suffering.
And yet, the birds continue to sing, the sun and moon rise and set and the world still turns. I am also feeling bewildered and, frankly, overwhelmed by world events but am coming to the conclusion that all we can do is pay attention to what's right in front of us, and to make the time and space to take even more care.
Thank you for your daily posts - de-cluttering has never been so interesting! Deb x

Pen Wilcock said...

I'm glad you moved those snaps to the peace and safety of the flower bed — snails can mend and rebuild their shells. Do you know this book?
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sound-Wild-Snail-Eating/dp/1900322919/ref=sr_1_1?crid=28S6OLIOU5454&dchild=1&keywords=sound+of+a+wild+snail+eating&qid=1625346661&sprefix=sound+of+a+%2Caps%2C161&sr=8-1
It's really good.
How interesting that you did the very damage you were trying to avoid. I think that's one form of a Freudian slip, isn't it? Like the "Don't mention the war" thing in conversations — the magnetism of what you must avoid.
In all the chaos and overwhelm, all I know to do is withdraw and slow down and stay in my trusted circle. May the human race find its way to peace and harmony. May the light shine on in the darkness and the darkness never put it out. May love prevail. x

Anonymous said...

We have a framed print of a line from a well-known hymn.
It says, "It is well with my soul."
This line reminds us of all the author of the hymn went through and how his faith encouraged him.
But also, we know that our Father God has saved our souls, literally, and that whatever trials we've been through in our thirteen years of marriage (two children divorced; two parents die;, a house fir;, our dog almost died from an altered vaccine; Alan has had sepsis, pneumonia & aggressive prostate cancer; I've had five operations, four of which were major; I became disabled and unable to walk without severe pain; etc. etc.) God is in control and our souls are not at any risk.
It is truly well with our souls.
Kay

Pen Wilcock said...

Such a brilliant hymn — I love it! And indeed, "How blessed are these who, going through the Valley of Baca, find it to be a place of springs." x