When hope illuminates

The flash flood of emotions seemed to disappear as quickly as they came.  First the shock of losing a significant part of one’s business, the grief of instant severance from teams without good bye, the discomfort and anxiety of uncertainty for the future.  It only took overnight for me to take charge.  I assessed my financial situation with the bank and my accountant and moved to the next phase of finding where I would start my new normal.  The statistics were low at that point with Western Australia having only 14 confirmed cases but the alarm grew with each passing hour.  While distracted by statistics I had to undertake training and demonstrate competencies in delivering my services remotely.  Then there were meetings with colleagues in a virtual office, each supporting others in finding this new path.  It was a valuable enough exercise for us to allocate time to do this each week.  Together, we were on the other side.

As with every peak there is a slide and it took me by surprise.  The emotion of guilt was pervasive for a few days.  I was able to get back on track and begin working again when so many have lost their businesses and livelihood.  All I have lost is money but for others, this public health catastrophe has touched their lives in unimaginable ways.  The saturation of statistics, each pebble with far reaching ripples of grief for so many overwhelmed me.  The sheer magnitude of the global situation and the nonsensical rhetoric of some world ‘leaders’ left me feeling helpless.  So I set about making changes in my own world.

I have written in another post about the time someone tried to break into my home.  In the decades that followed, I, unconsciously, started to collect stuff.  Everything had value because it ‘protected’ me in the home.  For example, for someone who was barely home one or two nights a week, to have a linen cupboard full of expensive linen should have been a red flag.  The countless vases when I cannot have fresh flowers in the home due to frequent travel, should have been another.  My home was not a hoarder’s home except for boxes in the corridors when it was being renovated.  But I did leave them there for longer than they should have been.  Every empty space had to be filled with something of value.  It was not the objects, but the thinking that was my ‘protection’.

Three weeks after the phone call that grounded me indefinitely I have found an  understanding.  What really matters in life is health and well being, being kind, being empathic, letting someone have the last can of tomatoes on the shelf because you know you already have one in your hand has new meaning these days.  Kindness highlights, less is more.  I can finally see a near empty garage.  Where folks cannot pick up the furniture I’m giving away, I’m arranging for a local handyman to do this.  It keeps him working too.  Very few belongings have the value they once did.  We ascribe value to objects in a subjective way and we devalue them subjectively too.  There is freedom in this thinking.

We may never fully grasp the enormity of what the world has experienced, continues to experience and will experience for a very long time, but we can experience hope for the future.  Nature shows us this.  It is after the fiercest bush fires that the most beautiful wild flowers bloom. I know this because I search and find them.

Much like nature, faith burns and blooms.  And as I experience the biggest faith challenge at this time, I dare to hope for the impossible that is inherent in the symbolism of Easter.  May you do, too.

As always

a dawn bird

In response to Word of the Day Challenge:  Disappear