The land of rainbows and unicorns

To me, the time on the verge of February and March marks the time of change. It’s the time when winter finally gives up and one can smell spring approaching. The days become longer, the new energy settles in and I finally feel like I can do things: go out, explore, move, make some new plans, change. It also marks four years since I first moved to Scotland and three years since I’ve started settling in. What a journey that’s been!

It’s a sour life

We all know this well, I’d like to believe.

You wake up in the morning and nothing feels right, nothing seems to be worth getting up for. You just know that you’re useless today. Hormones, upset stomach, migraine, something that someone said to you yesterday, this ignored yet read message, mean comment, unanswered letter, your struggling friend or upsetting news from the troubled world – whatever the cause, the doubts devour you completely.

On isolation

I feel obliged to say upfront that I am one of those lucky individuals who does not have to worry about money and work at the moment – I could, of course, since no one really knows where it’s all heading and how it will eventually end, but realising there’s no point worrying in advance, I’m simply appreciating being furloughed. I treat the lockdown as an unique opportunity to enjoy life differently: locally, quietly, slowly. Which feels somehow unfair to write about, when so many people around are really struggling. But at the same time it doesn’t seem like enough of a reason to not share my own perspective. Different as it may be, it’s equally valid.

If half a year ago someone told me I’d be living through global pandemic right now, I would not believe them. Nor would I believe that I’d be quite okay with it.

About the rhythm

I’m following this Swedish artist on youtube and in one of her relatively recent vlogs she mentioned that, to her, the summer time is all about activities, social events and widely understood external world, for looking outwards, while the winter time is all about looking inwards, taking a deep breath, re-thinking your life and recharging your batteries. Winter seems perfect for sitting down with a book, pen, pad or instrument and creating something new out of the abundance of stimuli you accumulated during the summer months. And I tend to agree. There’s a natural rhythm to it.