Something Easy

It’s taken all day to just sit down in front of this screen to actually type something and say – it’s that time of the year again. Cheer Pepper time, that is. It’s another November and National Blog Posting Month, and that lovely community of bloggers that Ra brings together are stirring, some of us dusting off the cobwebs – or leaving them as decoration after Halloween – after some time.

This year has been a strange one for many reasons, not least living in a state of limbo with this house on the market (and us living here with my parents and our cat), and the uncertainty that entails. As of last week, that might be finally coming to a close, and movement has tentatively returned to life again, and I feel less stuck.

This month might be the beginning of the next phase – clearing out, decluttering, and starting to pack things up for a move – but since we’ve been burnt a lot through this process, it’s hard to feel like things are definitely happening now. Even though all the estate agents seem happy and the buyer is too, and my parents have made an offer that was accepted – it still feels delicate.

I’d like to hope that this is finally it – because it would be perfect if it is. My nerves are definitely shot though, and it’s been more than a year since the house was put on the market.

We’ve just been away to Broadstairs on the coast of Kent for a short family holiday. Although it rained most of the time, we made the best of it – it’s always good to be by the sea and to have a change of scenery. And wonderful to spend time with my sister and her little one, to see how he’s changing and growing.

He has such a sensitive, observant personality, loves to laugh and pull funny expressions, and often sings to himself.

There is so much bittersweet in life. It’s hard to feel like life is normal, because it doesn’t feel that way. Of course, there is much to be thankful for, much to appreciate. Normality is such a strange concept in times like these.

I think for me, life stopped feeling normal some time ago. Maybe around 2014. And so much life has happened. I’m more comfortable with uncertainty even though it also feels like it grates against me.

But I’m also reminded that for so many people across the planet, uncertainty and grief are a part of daily existence. It shouldn’t be, of course. Today I read a post with artwork on Instagram by Britchida that resonated with me:

‘Hope does not belong only to the optimists.

We are not uncomplicated – the world is beautiful while grief drips everywhere. And if we look closely enough, we will see how much is not yet decided – a tender sapling is growing in my yard now, even in October. Things are not done. 

For me, holding both — what is and what is possible — is the practice of a sturdy hope, the kind that makes us able to act towards peace and mutual care without losing ourselves to magical thinking or despair.’

‘What is Possible’, by Brit, Britchida

Sturdy hope is a possible thing, a lamp showing us the way. As Walt Whitman wrote, we contain multitudes. Though I’ve found writing this post hard, it was also easy.

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