The Pandemic Diaries: the shortest day of the year

Did you ever notice that in order to seem successful and happy you have to sound busy and stressed?  You must be busy at work, against the clock at home, snowed under with your family and swamped with your volunteering and activism.

Busy old you.

When was the last time you asked someone how their work was and they replied, “actually, it’s very easy.  I complete the tasks I have effortlessly and there’s a simple, smooth way through my activities.  It’s quite undemanding which leaves me with plenty of time to concentrate on the more important things in my life.  It’s great thanks, you?”

No one ever says that.

We’re always one email away from a meltdown and if it’s not work it’s our home, family, friends, pets or the traffic.  We incorrectly believe that the opposite of being busy, is being lazy and we’ve managed to equate stress, with being important.

Look no further than our social media for evidence. 

Everything we do is on brand.  A nice walk in the park must be photographed, captioned and on message.  A simple coffee with a friend becomes a political act of solidarity.  A lazy day watching Netflix must be re-packaged into a humorous comment, shared with a thousand of our closest friends.  Even in lockdown we’re sharing posts of our curated lives which prove we’re politically aware, clever, funny, and up to date with politics, climate justice, responses to the virus, and inequality.   

It’s exhausting, isn’t it?

I’m worse than any of you.  Last week my daily average screen time was 32 hours per day, so I really need to take a little break from it all over the Christmas holidays.  What would happen if I didn’t read that tweet, or like that post? 

Nothing would happen. 

Absolutely nothing, that’s what.

Nothing would happen if I stepped away from the machines and had a little rest.  Nothing would happen except my shoulders would thank me, and perhaps my thumbs would come out of scrolling position long enough to turn the page of a book or a magazine instead. I’d save some money on electricity too.  The problem with social media is that it wasn’t designed for us to notice a post and enjoy it fully or feel empathy with the sadness. It was designed for us to continuously scroll until we hit the jackpot of inner satisfaction. Except that can’t be found online.  I think it’s the least mindful activity that I spend my time doing, and too much of it is time consuming, irritating, and silly.    

When I spend time noticing, I’m happier.

If I make a coffee at home and sit to drink it slowly, I enjoy it so much more than if I buy one To Go, and walk down the street with it.  This is because there are too many other wonderful distractions on the street to enjoy like people, weather and seagulls, which takes me away from the sensation of the hot drink. 

Likewise, a cup of Earl Grey in the afternoon, served in my favourite china cup, is infinitely more enjoyable if I curl up on the sofa with it, rather than try and send an email while it cools.  When I truly notice a sunset, a flower, or the shape of the moon I enjoy it so much more than when it’s in my peripheral vision.  This morning, for example, I noticed the smell of damp leaves on the pavement in the street, and it was glorious, heart warming, and divine.

Time spent noticing, isn’t wasted time.

Time may be infinite, but our time here isn’t. 

Time moves on anyway despite what you or I say or do.  Even the shortest day of the year has 24 hours in it, and Time doesn’t mind what we do with it.  Time doesn’t worry if we’re uncomfortable or dissatisfied, alert or clear headed.   Time doesn’t concern itself with if we’re happy or sad, light-hearted or blue. 

Time moves on forwards, that’s just what Time will do.

So thank you for reading me, and for giving me your time.  You’ve been wonderful company this past ten months and I thank you from my heart.  I wish you a warm, safe and well Christmas, and I wish you all you wish for yourselves.

I wish you good time. 

Above all else, I wish you good time.

December 2020