karencostellomcfeat

Caveman TV

Some days, when I was very ill, fatigue swept over me like a giant wave leaving me stranded on the shore like an unfortunate starfish slowly drying in the sun.

On such days I could do nothing. Reading was exhausting. Even watching the television or listening to radio was more than I could cope with. At the beginning, I found it terrifying. What if I would never regain any energy? What if I could never properly wake up? Fear and frustration made a bad situation worse, but I was rescued by the view from my window. I was rescued by what my husband aptly named caveman TV. There is only one channel – but what a channel it is serving an absolutely endless array of beauty and action. A word of caution: it is addictive.

Sky TV

A room with a view Photo: Karen Costello-McFeat

At that time, I had a day bed located in the bay of my lounge window overlooking the rear garden. Lying down, I could not see the garden, of course, but I could see the sky. And what a magnificent sky it was. In normal life, we seldom look up except to perhaps check the weather, but now I had hours to really look – to study the colours, to follow the clouds as they shape shifted into innumerable forms. It was magnificent.

I am not alone in my love of this natural cinema. There is a Cloud Appreciation Society which publishes books with the most exquisite cloud formations, though I am happy with the most modest ones. And if I can’t convince you of the joy of cloud watching, I urge you to look at Gavin Pretor-Pinney’s TedTalk below:

Enter stage left

The clouds provided a pretty spectacular display that calmed my frayed nerves and made me feel my bed was less of a prison and more of a viewing platform. If the clouds were an ever changing backdrop, the birds were the actors that peopled the stage; their antics were as entrancing as any high-wire act.

Since I live close to the sea, the sky is always full of seagulls. Despite their (unjustified) bad reputation, these are magnificent creatures. Their aerial skills every bit as magnificent as their more celebrated cousin, the hawk.

Joining them in the sky are starlings, crows, wood pigeons and magpies. Each has its own style. Each their own personality. Each as unique as the clouds they pass over.

Natural healing

Periods of such lassitude are infrequent now, thankfully, but my craving for the garden has never waned. If anything, it has expanded with my ability to more fully immerse myself within it. Should a morning go by without a visit outside, I start to feel unsettled and fidgety. This is cured by a quick trip to the shed, if it is cold/wet, or a turn about the garden if the weather is more clement. Though I might pick the odd weed on my wanderings, I feel no particular need to do anything more than observe.

This quiet watching has proven incredibly therapeutic. I initially thought it might be because it reminded me of so many happy hours spent outside as a child. It transpires that the reason is more scientific. Studying nature is what our brains are designed to do. The very composition of trees and flowers align easily with the pattern seeking element of our minds and quite literally soothes them. The colours green and blue also require little effort for our brains to translate and thus wash over us without creating ripples of anxiety. Urban landscapes, in contrast, with their garish colours, unpredictable movement and linear forms do. All this explains why cities dwellers are more prone to aggressive behaviours than those living in countryside settings.

A place of tranquility Photo: Karen Costello-McFeat

Some enchanted evening

These last few weeks, we have spent increasing amounts of time outside and, with few obligations, allowed ourselves to simply sit and watch the events of the garden unfold. One evening, at the end of a particularly warm day, neither my husband nor I wished to return inside. Ever the pyromaniac, my husband lit the chimenea to ward off the evening chill.

The evening was, for both of us, one of our favourites in our long years together. It began prettily enough with a classic sunset composed of baby blue and pink clouds. Before the light had faded entirely, the new moon rose as fine and pale as an albino’s eyelash. The overture to the evening’s performance had begun.

As dusk fell, the birds’ evensong reached its crescendo. In the stillness of evening, each call was distinct. Then, gradually, gradually, their voices fell silent as they returned to the safety of the trees and shrubbery and settled in for the night. All we could hear was the gentle crackle of the fire.

Then, out of the deep blue sky, came a sudden rush of movement, wings beating furiously in an unfamiliar manner. Surely, we thought, the birds had all gone to bed. They had. These were their fellow creatures of the sky: bats.

For about a quarter of an hour, the tiny pipistrelle bats put on their aerial display. The Red Arrows have nothing on these little intrepid aviators who swooped in great circles to catch their supper of insects on the wing. We could only see them in silhouette and only very briefly so rapidly were they moving. Then as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone.

Mr Fox feels quite at home in the garden Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

Their show over, Mr Fox made his entrance. He sauntered nonchalantly from the bottom of the garden, along the path and through the passage to the front of the house. He was terribly handsome in his thick, red coat and utterly indifferent to our presence. I imagined him giving us a nod, as if to say, ‘Lovely evening,’ before beginning his night’s adventures.

This was our last visitor. The sky was, by now, deep indigo with a smattering of stars sprinkled like freckles across her face. The solar lights blinked on; a modest mirroring of her beauty. The air turned cooler still and reluctant though we were, we stretched and headed for bed.

Why don’t you …?

When I was a child, I loved a programme called, ironically enough, Why Don’t You Just Switch Off Your Television Set And Go Out And Do Something Less Boring Instead?” In my mature years, I often do just that. I have discovered an immensely more interesting version of television – caveman TV. It is high definition, colour and surround sound, requires no electricity and has an infinite variety of programmes. It can be enjoyed in good health and poor and always, always brings joy. Which leaves only the question, Why don’t you …?

About Time

The hands of time Photo by Fabrizio Verrecchia on Unsplash

A week or so after lock-down, I took off my watch. When Blake spoke of ‘mind-forged manacles’ he was presciently describing the mechanism attached to my wrist. In normal times, I cannot imagine how often I looked at it, fretting about the amount of time I had left to complete a task or to begin the next. Like many young people’s addiction to their mobile phones, I was addicted to time.

Carpe diem

It began, no doubt, as an exercise in efficiency. Like some obsessive 1950s time-motion researcher, I was constantly challenging myself to do more, create more, and achieve more in ever decreasing amounts of time. Time was running out, and I was desperate not to waste one second. If I had a motto, it would have been ‘Carpe diem’-seize the day. If I had a poem that summed up my mind-set, it would be Marvell’s ‘To His Coy Mistress’ and its famous lines:

But at my back I always hear
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near
Andrew Marell

And I was certain that I was right. After all, this is the message of a world which is constantly urging us to buy and do everything, now! FMO – fear of missing out propels millions to cram every last experience into every day so that it can be posted online. The irony is that rushing through life brings little in the way of satisfaction and while I thought I was so cleverly using up time; it was using up me.

Hitting the reset button

And then, quite out of nowhere, came lock-down and the opportunity to reset my life. Though I didn’t fall into the extremely vulnerable category, I was certainly someone who would do well to self-isolate. Succumbing to Covid-19 may not kill me, but it would almost certainly cause complications and involve an extended recovery period and quite frankly, I’d had enough of feeling ill.

My crammed diary was suddenly empty and my days my own. Time, for once, didn’t really matter. At first, it felt a little disorientating and I kept looking at my diary for what I should have been doing and looking forward to the date when lock-down would end.

I set up elaborate structures for my day including time for exercise, learning, socialising remotely and projects. My diary was once again reassuringly full and my days too. It seems old habits die hard. But I was beginning the process at last.

Listening to the body

The first thing I did was let myself sleep. With all the craziness and anxiety surrounding those first few weeks, I was exhausted. And for once, I didn’t set an alarm, but let myself doze until I was ready to face the day. There were times when I slept twelve hours straight, but gradually, gradually, I moved to something more normal (though I still need more sleep than most.)

‘Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care’ Macbeth 2.2.40 Photo: Kinga Cichewicz on Unsplash

The second major change was having meals when we were hungry rather than by the clock. My husband was home and I wasn’t making endless calculations regarding when to prepare dinner. We started when the first stirrings of hunger hit. (In my husband’s case, these were every few hours.)

Circadian rhythms

Our bodies have their own clocks known as the circadian rhythm; ‘a 24-hour internal clock that is running in the background of your brain and cycles between sleepiness and alertness at regular intervals.’ (sleepfoundation.org)

These rhythms are based on sunlight or its absence causing us to feel sleepy at night and awake through the day. This biological mechanism is strong and when we try to trick it, we suffer. Night shifts, long haul flights and even a shift in daylight saving time can leave us feeling tired and muddle headed for days.

Our body clock is amazingly powerful, but our mental clock can be more powerful still. While our physical clock ticks away in harmony with the natural world, our internal, mental timepiece tends to follow linear time rather than the cyclical time of nature. It ranges along the continuum of our existence leaping from past to present to future in milliseconds – a sort of mental time travel.

Dean Buonomano, a neuroscientist, explores this in his book, Your Brain is a Time Machine. Time travel for humans has a valuable function: our ability to predict (and therefore plan for the future) is ‘reliant on memory’ (a recollection of the past).’In fact, that’s really the main evolutionary use for memory, as a storehouse of the information needed to predict the future.’
Read more: https://www.newscientist.com/article/2132847-your-brain-is-a-time-machine-why-we-need-to-talk-about-time/#ixzz6OIANPIin

Putting it simply: we learn from our mistakes and try not to repeat them. For example, if we burn our hand on a cooking pot, our brain stores that memory and warns us not to do the same in the future. In this way, our mental time travelling aids us.

However this vital, evolutionary tool, comes with its own disadvantages.

The perils of time travel

Into the past or into the future? Photo by Andy Beales on Unsplash

Throughout most of man’s history, the work of staying alive would have engaged all our mental and physical powers. Hard physical labour would mean deep sleep at night as exhaustion took over. Now our lives are physically so much easier, many struggle to sleep and these hours (and others) are often spent in reliving moments we regret or worrying about the future. These twin activities result in the modern epidemic of depression and anxiety.

Lock-down has extended our free hours, giving many leisure time that, rather than proving restful, feels like the small hours of the morning suffered by the insomniac. Too much unstructured time simply isn’t good for us. Our brains need stimulation or they will turn inwards – seldom with good results.

Time is on my side

For me, my mindfulness practice has been my best defence. Like everyone, I have moments of sadness, despair and anxiety about the future. No-one is immune from missing those they care about – no matter how good virtual communication is. And few are spared from anxiety regarding how the pandemic will affect them – whether in health, economic stability, or in bereavement.

Keeping sane requires reminding oneself that in this moment everything is okay. There is little we can do aside from following guidelines and should catastrophe strike, we are best fit to deal with it if we ourselves are strong.

If we can, we might also use this experience to unshackle ourselves from time – allowing it to drift and expand naturally through the day. Of course, we will need to use a clock sometimes: for phoning friends, baking cakes or joining meetings. But these times can be noted on our phone – and mine has numerous alarms for different days.

Through slipping into the flow of time, we often find that it expands rather than contracts. Tasks become enjoyable when unhurried and tackled with full attention and care. We become more calm. And the greatest paradox of all is that we can achieve a great deal seemingly effortlessly. The days still fly by and though I regularly have to resist the urge to cram in too much, I am learning. Just as I trust in the arrival of dawn tomorrow, I trust that the hours the day will bring will hold the same potential for discovery and joy as any other. What I make of my time is up to me.

If you have…

Wise words. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Cicero – famed orator, lawyer and politician was certainly wise. So, it is interesting that his most well-known quote is that above. Like most wisdom, it is not shaken by the passing of millennia. Indeed, his words are especially pertinent now that we live in urban environments where green spaces and white pages are being replaced by concrete and screens.

This quote lives on because it encapsulates all that is important for our well-being. Books and gardens are the ultimate holistic therapy, nourishing as they do our minds, our bodies and our spirits; bringing us balance and harmony.

What have the Romans ever done for us?

The Romans were mad about libraries and no self-respecting household would have been without one. These libraries were usually modest affairs made up of little more than an alcove or cupboard containing books. The library would be divided into two sections: one for Latin and the other for Greek texts.

It would be impossible to estimate the value of Latin learning upon modern civilisation. It is said that Petrach’s discovery of Cicero’s letters alone initiated the Italian (and then our own) Renaissance. Roman learning and oratory underpin the very foundations of our legal system, language and literature.

The value of books

Old books Image: Chris Lawton on Unsplash

Only the elite in Rome would have had a library. Books were prohibitively expensive, since prior to Gutenberg’s printing press, they were written by hand.

We, in contrast, have unlimited access to books. We can borrow them from public libraries, buy inexpensive ones from charity shops and modestly priced ones from our local book shop. Books are everywhere and the choices, when we add in the internet, are limitless.

Why read?

This is a question that I often ask my students and depressingly discover that it is something for which they seldom have much of an answer. Schools rarely ‘sell’ the idea of books and this is a real shame. They are seen as means of improving spelling and perhaps sources of information or entertainment, but not much else.

Books, of course, do much more than improve our language skills. Their most important function is to give the brain a good mental workout. Our minds need to be exercised as much as our bodies and the benefits are huge. Reading has been shown to: improve communication skills; reduce brain deterioration in old age; reduce stress (by up to 68%); increase creativity; improve inter-personal skills and empathy; increase our vocabularies and induce better sleep. Ideally, we should read books in their paper format for the best results.

The benefits to the workings of the mind are well documented, but I would also like to include the benefits that they can offer to our souls. Whatever our spiritual inclinations, there are books that can help and teach us. Reading is a slow process and so we have time to contemplate what is written at our leisure. I often read a few pages or a chapter, put the book down and think. I regularly reread books that I find particularly helpful to glean every last ounce of wisdom from them. (I’m on the third reading of Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth).

Good literature too can have insights we might find valuable to our lives. A great deal of wisdom can be found in poetry, plays and fiction. Through reading we are opening ourselves up to other ways of seeing the world. We may not adopt them, but we at least have a better understanding.

Of course, one of the best places to read is the garden and when the weather is inclement, I retire to my ‘story shed’. Reading outside enables us to combine life’s two essentials.

The perfect combination! Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Gardens are especially wonderful because they provide an opportunity to improve our physical, mental and spiritual health.

The green workout

Those of you who garden are well aware that it is strenuous. Gardening is one of the best ways to exercise, burning a whopping 330 calories an hour. Yet, unlike many forms of exercise, it doesn’t really feel like work. Minutes and hours pass by in a sort of trance and as we stand to stretch out backs, we are often shocked by the amount of time that has passed.

My current situation means that I can only garden for very limited stretches of time (if I do not wish to end up face down in the dirt) but by careful management, I can do several short bursts. It may not make me fit, as such, but it keeps me mobile and I’ll take that.

Even if we don’t do much physical work, we can still benefit. We gain vitamin D from sunlight and B vitamins from the soil. A good play in the dirt is a great way to release all those micro-organisms that aid our gut and therefore our digestion. If we grow our own vegetables and herbs, we will eat more healthily too.

Garden therapy

Garden or horticultural therapy is nothing new, though it sadly fell out of favour for a while when modern medicines became the main ‘cure’ for mental disorders.

Fortunately, the benefits of the garden on the mind are being ‘rediscovered’ with brilliant work being done for all sorts of groups – from Alzheimers’ patients, to soldiers suffering from PTSD to young people with extreme anxiety and depression.

All of us will suffer from anxiety or low mood at some point in our lives. We all have to deal with grief, disappointment and anxiety. And the best therapy is, literally, on our doorstep.

If you are interested in how this works in detail, I cannot recommend highly enough Sue Stuart-Smith’s book The Well Gardened Mind. But for those who want a quick overview, numerous studies have proven that gardens bring numerous benefits, including: reducing stress and anxiety; promoting relaxation; cultivating a spirit of acceptance (since we can tend our garden but not control it); empathy through the nurturing of plants and lastly in bringing us hope. The winter may be severe – but we know that spring will follow.

The beauty of flowers

We should never underestimate the role of beauty in our lives – not the airbrushed variety in magazines, but the real beauty of nature.

I work at my garden all the time and with love. What I need most are flowers, always.
Claude Monet

And of all the plants in the garden, flowers are the showstoppers. Modern brain imaging techniques can illustrate how beauty literally fires up the pleasure centres in our brains causing us to release dopamine and serotonin – happy hormones – at the same time as our own opiods. ‘Hence, beauty calms and revitalises us at the same time.’ (Sue Stuart-Smith)

Flowers also play a role in our spiritual life. They are often used in religious teaching (Buddha’s flower sermon/ Jesus’ ‘Consider the lilies’) because they are such perfect emblems of a divine order. And there are few religious festivals which do not have flowers at their very heart.

Contemplation of the perfect symmetry of a flower, is an excellent mindfulness technique and one I have used often when feeling a little fraught. Some flowers bring the additional benefit of fragrance and some, like the rose and lavender have well-known calming qualities.

So next time you see a flower – stop and smell it. I guarantee it will improve your day.

Garden roses – the scent of summer Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

I appreciate that not everyone will have access to a large garden, but the benefits I have written about hold true even if you only have a window box or a few flowers on the window sill or blooms in a vase. Books, as I have already said, are freely available. And if you have both? You have everything you need.

In Praise of the Ordinary

At one of my book group meetings, we were asked who we admired most – living or dead. What followed were the usual replies: Ghandi, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King … Without doubt, all of these deserved our utmost respect for both their courage and compassion. But when it came to my turn, I said, ‘The church ladies’. A slightly uncomfortable pause followed. If I could have seen the thought bubbles around the room, they would have read: ‘Who? ‘What?’ ‘Why them?’

So I explained. While I admired all the other folks they mentioned, I especially admired the ones who never received any public recognition and very little reward. I wanted to recognise them.

When my children were tiny, I attended and later ran the Mums and Toddlers group in the church hall. It was open to everyone and provided a haven for me on Wednesday mornings. We were made hot cups of tea; the children were entertained and we had a chance to relax and chat with other mums. This was possible because of the ‘church ladies’ who came each week to brew and wash up, drag out toys and take the register.

A place to play : Image Markus Spiske on Unsplash

These kind souls performed innumerable other tasks throughout the week. As my children grew, they offered age related services from Sunday school to youth group. Though they taught Christian values, they never proselytised. They taught instead the invaluable lesson of gracious giving, a model of love through action.

And in these extraordinary times, I would like to thank those other, ordinary people who are often overlooked, though their contribution to our well-being is immense.

My first is the refuse collectors. While listening to the news one day recently, the presenter said that they were hoping to maintain regular collections. For a moment, I was panic struck. What if they didn’t? With these warm days, rubbish would soon begin to fester, vermin would multiply, further diseases would manifest themselves on top of the current virus.

Thank goodness for the refuse collectors! Image: Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Only when faced with their loss did I fully appreciate their presence. Our health and well-being relied on this humble occupation. I asked my husband to put a wee note on the bins to say thank you. It seemed the least we could do.

My second group is also one which is almost universally overlooked, yet fundamental to the functioning of any town. These are the council workers – often overworked, certainly underpaid and generally the butt of jokes. Their roles are seldom glamorous and historically, they have not been seen as especially helpful. Like any office, there will be the ‘computer says no’ types, but the majority are doing their best with limited resources of both time and money.

Volunteering with the Citizens Advice has given me a much better insight into the insurmountable task these people are given. The Corona virus has intensified pressures, causing job losses in the town and increasing the need for public assistance. And it was through CitA that I discovered that the local Job Centre had processed a staggering 3,000 Universal Credit applications in record time. In their efforts to keep the wait for benefits as low as possible (it’s already five weeks after processing) they worked overtime and through the bank holiday. I doubt that their efforts will hit the headlines nor that the recipients would have any clue of the sacrifices made on their behalf, but I do, and so now do you.

A different way to shop: Image: Guiseppe Argenziano on Unsplash

And lastly, I want to thank everyone who is keeping us fed from the farmers to supermarket shop assistants – especially the shop assistants. While media inches were spent (quite rightly) on the dearth of PPE for medical staff, shop assistants were asked each and every day to encounter hundreds of customers with no protection at all. Though this has improved, I doubt it is perfect.

Since I am self-isolating, we shop online and our deliveries come at the most varied times – sometimes as late as ten in the evening. We always make sure to thank the drivers, who are invariably cheery and polite, despite it being the end of a long day.

So my request to you is this. When standing outside on Thursday evening applauding the valiant efforts of the NHS, I ask you to clap for all the others who quietly go about their tasks and whose commitment and diligence make such a contribution to our lives.

Whenever possible, by a note or a friendly wave, thank those who help us. Feeling valued goes a long way to alleviating the stress and difficulty of any job.

And lastly, when the crisis is over, let us all champion those who have served us in these difficult times. These ordinary people are the foundations of our society just as the church ladies were the foundation of the church. We can take their efforts for granted or we can truly applaud them by making sure they are recompensed with fair pay and decent working conditions. We depend on them; let’s make sure that they can depend on us.

Celebrating During Corona

A few days ago, I celebrated my birthday. It was not the usual extended festivities involving coffee dates, lunch and afternoon tea. It was not even an ‘at home’ with friends popping in and out and consuming vast quantities of tea and cake. Instead, it was something much quieter and from which I ventured no further than my front door.

Was this a disappointment or a sorry affair? Not at all. I had a joyful few days and felt incredibly spoiled and loved (just as one should on one’s birthday). It was different, certainly, but no less wonderful.

What made this birthday extra special and memorable was the incredible creativity and flexibility of friends in the face of adversity. The Blitz spirit is clearly alive and well.

Socialising from a distance

Though I seriously miss not being able to hug anyone, I haven’t missed good company. Some friends came and sat in the sunshine in my front garden; others came to the door, then stepped several yards back to chat. Those further away were in touch via video calls and my son and his girlfriend did a brilliant rendition of Happy Birthday on her new Mexican clay flute (ocarina).

This virus has, if nothing else, brought us back to the essentials. Big parties, luxurious meals and outings are wonderful – and I hope to enjoy them again soon – but they are not necessary to show that we care. All we need to do for that is to turn up: in the real or the virtual world.

Make, do and mend

Since many of my friends are themselves isolating, or at least trying to go out as little as possible, obtaining something as simple as a birthday card becomes a problem. I’m delighted to say that this hindered no-one. I received many skilful cards: some were recycled prettily, some were painted or created from craft materials at hand. All were beautiful. I couldn’t include every one in the picture below, so I’ve included an array that display an amazing breadth of ingenuity from kirigami, spoof CDs to original art works.

Some people are just too talented. Cards clockwise: Jenny Ellis, Jenny Timberlake, Jane Cockburn, Penny Smith and Jeff Costello-McFeat Photo: Karen Costello-McFeat

That’s all very well for the artistically gifted, I hear you say. But talent is an optional extra. I had one brilliant card from a college friend who wrote Happy Birthday Karen on the front and then drew a square below which read ‘Space for picture (if I had any artistic talent)’! There is the option too for colouring (adult style) as with Penny’s above or recycling an old card with a new backing. The possibilities really are endless.

Made with love

If cards were hard to come by, gifts were almost impossible. None of the usual shops were open and choices at supermarkets strictly limited. Of course, one could shop on-line to find thoughtful presents, and many did, but others went further still to make gifts that I will treasure for many years to come.

All the above required a considerable amount of skill and effort and that, in addition to their bespoke qualities, made them especially valuable to me.

We are not all, unfortunately, experts at craft, but finding perfect gifts even under lock-down is possible for everyone. We can buy local. I received some delicious honey from a friend whose neighbour is a bee keeper. We can pick some flowers from the garden or pot up some seedlings that will make a joyful display in the weeks to come. We can bake cakes or other goodies that we know our friends love. We can even venture into the amazing world of YouTube where it is possible to discover how to make absolutely anything. I’ve been making beeswax wraps with my husband recently and I hope the recipients of these enjoy them as much as we enjoyed making them.

Potted and ready to grow! From my green-fingered friend Sue Moorton Photo: Karen Costello-McFeat

Seeds, seedlings and young plants are always a great gift and when finances are tight, as they are for many at the moment, an affordable option. Generosity is measured not in the amount that we spend but the time/thought that we spend. At least for me!

Same again next year?

It is quite possible that some restrictions will be in place next year. We can chafe at this, or we can embrace it. Either way, we cannot control the spread of the virus nor the steps needed to contain it.

If you had explained the current situation to me a few months ago, I would have baulked at the impossibility of having any satisfactory social life under such conditions and predicted a miserable birthday. How wrong I would have been. In the true spirit of ‘making the best of things’, my friends have proven that with determination and imagination, external events need not bring us down. On the contrary, they have demonstrated that overcoming obstacles brings the sweetest victory.

Fighting Shadows

One of the hardest things to deal with when coping with MS is the constant fear of deterioration that hangs above at all hours of the day and night (especially night). They are inchoate fears: some concerned with physical decline; some with mental losses and some with the impact these will have on relationships.

When I was diagnosed with cancer in January 2018, the fear of my imminent demise was added (or at least a slow and painful one in the future). If the MS diagnosis had felt like a death sentence, this was one that brought my execution date forward by several years.

Everything I had felt and was dealing with up to this point was magnified ten-fold and all the work I had done to cope was suddenly stretched to breaking point. I was delighted that I had the practice of yoga and meditation in place, but I was not sure that it was enough to manage this.

The fog of uncertainly Photo by Ankhesenamun on Unsplash

Intimations of mortality

We all know that we will die and accept, to some degree, our mortality. When it gets up close and personal; however, most of us tend to wobble a bit. In my case, my coping strategy was not so much to resolve my fear of dying, but to embrace it. In some ways the pressure of this fear was just too much and I dealt with it by imagining, at some level, that I was already dead. No, I did not build a coffin and climb in – though I did something similar psychologically.

I became someone who observed life, enjoyed much of it, although I didn’t really think of it as real. The Buddhist idea of life being a dream made absolute sense and I deliberately chose to sleep-walk through it. (Most people sleep-walk too, yet, they are not conscious of the choice.) If life isn’t real, my faulty reasoning went, then it cannot hurt me. I can disengage from relationships and avoid the pain of losing those I love.

My diagnosis gave me a 75% survival rate increasing to 80% with all sorts of revolting therapies. This sounds good until you turn it into rations. A 3:4 or 4:5 isn’t bad. A one in four or five chance of dying isn’t great either.

So, I had to get my head around this. Six months of intense treatments followed: surgery, chemotherapy and lastly radiotherapy. The chemotherapy part was so revolting that I told my husband that I would never go through it again under any circumstances.

After all this, I would just have to wait and see if it worked. My MS was blessedly inactive. Having a very compromised immune system is a great way to keep MS in check. Mine was barely functioning.

The poison cure Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash

Salvation

Salvation came, strangely enough, in a novel. It was a good if not great one (The Immortalists). The twin themes were that you cannot live your life in fear. Doing so is likely to make that fear come true. (Think of the advice to never look at a tree when skiing, or you will probably plough into it.) The second was the old chestnut, so easily said, but so hard to follow, that life must be lived in the present without concern for the future or compromised by the past.

In my ‘Eureka!’ moment, I realised that rather than ‘playing dead’, I should play at living. If time is short, then I should suck the very marrow out of life while I can. To do this, I need to be fearless. If I die tomorrow, next year, or in a decade, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I live now.

I also came to the slightly scary realisation that my negative attitude might actually be contributing to my demise. In a sort of reverse placebo effect, my belief that life was effectively over, might well make this happen.

My MS had begun to make itself apparent at a period of extreme distress in my life. At times, life felt an unbearable burden, and perhaps my body took this as an instruction to dismantle itself. My cancer occurred after a year of anxiety caused by the possibility that my nephew, my mother and my husband might have the disease. The irony, of course, is that the only person who did have cancer was me. All the stress cannot have helped me. Nor did it in anyway benefit anyone else.

A change of perspective

Despite the fact that I will never be well, I can attempt to live well. I have revised the hope that I will live to see my granddaughter reach five to seeing her graduation and even marriage. And why not? If this is not possible, it’s not, but why deprive myself of the pleasure of anticipation?

This was really what the Buddha was about (I think) when saying life was a dream. We are caught up so completely in our perception of life that we forget that it is only that – our perception and not the reality.

It is time to stop fighting the shadows and step into the light. The shadows will always be there, but if we face the sun, they will fall behind us.

Turn your face to the sun Photo by 𝕷𝖚𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ on Unsplash

Learn a Language!

There are few things more challenging or rewarding than learning a language. For the past ten years, I have been trying to learn Swedish. My progress has been intermittent at best, but I am now dedicated to a few short lessons every day. I began when my son spent six months studying in Lund, Southern Sweden. I imagined long visits and extended stays, but as often happens in life, things didn’t go to plan. In the end, I only got to spend 48 hours there!

So my studies trailed off, but my intention to master the language and eventually spend some time there never did. My love of all things Scandinavian, like all good obsessions, started young. When I was six or seven, my family was due to travel to Denmark for a farm holiday. I was ecstatic and convinced (don’t ask me why) that this was the location of Enid Blyton’s Faraway Tree . For some reason involving travel supplements I didn’t understand, the holiday was cancelled and I was heart-broken. I consoled myself with Moomins and Mrs Pepperpot and found, as I grew older, that my love for this region had not abated. If anything it had grown: I loved Scandinavian design, thrillers and their eminently sensible way of life.

Flying the Swedish flag Photo: Karen Costello-McFeat

Language reveals who we are

I think that we all have countries other than our own for which we have an affinity or at least a passionate curiosity. Learning the languages of these countries will not only give us the ability to converse with the natives, but to access the intricacies of their literature and culture. Reading texts in the original, as all bilingual speakers will tell you, is infinitely richer than reading in translation. Why? Because words, phrases and idioms resonate far beyond their meaning. They express something about the very essence of the country.

My husband’s old boss (who was Swedish) puzzled over why we had so many words for the same thing in English. ‘Take the word road,’ he said. ‘Swedish has three words; you have dozens.’ So what does this tell us? I think that it shows the pragmatism of Swedes, a, ‘Call a spade a spade’ approach . And what it reveals about the English is our preoccupation with precision, the right naming of things, the tremendous possibilities of language. We have the largest vocabulary in the world and a very long list of words for road, all subtly different from one another. See how many you can come up with.

The family tree of language

English is fascinating because it is derived from and related to so many other languages. At root, an Indo-European language with a strong Germanic base, it is seasoned with French, Latin and any number of other borrowings. When learning another language, these relationships become more apparent. We see that our ‘foreign’ neighbours are not so foreign. Since I have a Scottish background, there are even more Swedish words that seem familiar: hus , grat and barn are very similar in pronunciation to the Scottish, hoos (house), greet (cry) and bairn (child). I love these connections, because they highlight my history. It is woven into our words.

Brain training through language learning

Though I doubt I shall be getting to Sweden any time soon, I am diligently following my course. This time I chose Duo-Lingo, as it allows you to review your learning constantly, and I, for one, need endless reminding. My goal is to be fluent enough that I can read Pippi Longstocking in the original and to spend a month in one of the many little lake-side holiday cabins one summer.

This may take some time. Pippi Longstocking in the original: Photo Karen Costello-McFeat

Yet, I have a more important reason for following this rather whimsical path. Learning a complex language such as Swedish is seriously challenging for my brain. With a neurological condition like MS, the brain is constantly being assaulted and sadly, mine has plenty of legions. But I am a great believer in neuroplasticity – the idea that, with work, we can reroute the brain and keep it functioning.

If nothing else, I am also getting older and ageing affects the functioning of the brain just as it stiffens our joints and depletes our energy. The good news is that just as keeping fit and healthy diminishes the effects of ageing on the body, mind training can do the same for the brain. The bad news is that the ‘no pain, no gain’ rule applies. Just as a five-minute walk each day won’t give you a significant physical benefit, nor will a desultory look at the crossword. We really need to stretch and challenge the brain to reap the rewards. This is where language learning comes into its own. Language learning is difficult. It requires masses of concentration, learning new words and untangling the complexities of a foreign grammar for a start. And it is these strenuous mental gymnastics that force the brain to create new neural pathways and ‘keep fit’.

Research consistently shows that, ‘Learning a second language benefits cognitive abilities like intelligence and memory, while lowering risks of brain aging, dementia, and Alzheimer’s’ https://bebrainfit.com/benefits-learning-second-language/ All of these are surely great objectives.

Now is always the best time to begin

So, if you have been meaning to learn a new language, now would be a great time to start. Being stuck at home is not even an obstacle, since there are endless options available online from Podcasts to interactive lessons and, when normal life resumes, community colleges and private tutors offer a variety of courses. There really is something for everyone – even Star Trek fans. They can learn Klingon.

I have a dream. Living in a house by the lake. Photo by Inès d’Anselme on Unsplash

Ghost Life

My diary for March was filled with good things: visits from friends and relatives; meals out and any number of coffee dates. April too was keenly anticipated with a weekend away to Oxford and tickets to see some of my favourite authors at the literary festival. May was even better. We were going to the US to spend ten days in the Hamptons with my family. What a wonderful year! And then, on Tuesday 17 March, all plans were void, all visits cancelled.

Life BC (before Corona) and AC (after) Photo: Karen Costello-McFeat

Where once were appointments, were now cancellations. Because of potential problems resulting from my MS, I self-isolated early and absolutely. I noted 9 June in my diary, as that was the initial date when we could safely emerge into the world. It seemed a very long time away. And until I reached that date, I would flick through the pages and see what I was supposed to be doing. The exercise was unnerving. It created a sort of ghost life, one running parallel to this surreal existence bordered by my boundary lines.

Ghosts of the past

Now, five weeks on, I reflect on life before the virus with nostalgia, as if it was from another era entirely. How I loved those craft mornings with friends, trips to Birling Gap, weekly calligraphy and choir lessons! Intimate chats with companions now seem like a luxury. I miss all these things deeply and each time the days when I would normally engage in them come around, I am haunted by their absence.

Ghosts of the future

All those hopes for the future, all those dates in the diary which promised such happy times were now evaporating. The squiggles on the page, which represented such joyful expectation, now taunt me. When I reached the date where I had noted the need to renew my ESTA (American travel visa) and get my travel insurance, I wanted to cry. Daydreams of days spent on the beach, cuddles and stories with my granddaughter, outings with my son and daughter-in-law were just that: dreams. Yet, my visualisation of them felt so real. Now, it is like looking at a Polaroid print moving in reverse, the image gradually fading to white.

My hefty, page to a day diary remains on my desk (I do need to remind myself what day it is) yet the pages remain sulkily blank. Here’s June’s entries:

Nothing to look forward to? Photo: Karen Costello-McFeat

Like Scrooge’s ghost of the future, mine does not fill me with optimism. Like everyone, I wish I knew when this would end and, as the days and weeks pass, I realise that there is no answer to that and certainly not one that would cheer me. My mood dips and soars on a daily basis, the uncertainty of it all enervating.

Any time but now

Yet, in my wiser moments, I remember that life has always been like this. We spend endless thought, time and energy reflecting on the past and anticipating the future. Regret, nostalgia, optimism and fear are entirely human emotions, which colour our feelings and, in extreme cases, unbalance our mental health. While in the thrall of such emotions, they feel absolutely real, yet they exist outside of the actual and in the realm of thought only. Few of these emotions bring us contentment: our optimism is often misplaced just as our fears are often unrealised. Like the folkloric Will-o-the-Wisps, their intangible luminosity often leads us to bogs of despair.

Meeting Will-o-the-Wisp Image: An 1882 oil painting of a will-o’-the-wisp by Arnold Böcklin.

Putting the ghosts to rest

Living in a constant state of uncertainty, and even fear, is the fate of most of us in this unprecedented era. Many will find it unbearable and their health will suffer. But, if this blog is about anything, it is about coping with new and often unnerving change with grace.

We need to lay the ghosts of the past and the future to rest and focus on the only thing that we can control-how we conduct ourselves at this very moment. The world will not be the same for years to come. And though we cannot alter this, we can play our own small part in making the future a positive one. If we can receive each moment with gratitude and act in the interest of others wherever possible (and simply staying at home is beneficial), we can incrementally build a world that is kinder and gentler. And I, for one, think it worth the effort.

Changing the Narrative

We are all expert storytellers: weaving the flotsam and jetsam of our daily lives into a coherent and meaningful tale of existence. We expand on the interesting and unusual while we toss the mundane. We draft and redraft until we have a narrative that we believe accurately and elegantly tells our truth.

Unfortunately, this is not the whole story. What we select and what we choose to ignore tells as much. Of course, we cannot include everything, but what we do tends to fit into grooves of thinking we have worn over decades. What we see and how we interpret it is defined by our histories, our temperaments and our social views. We are not so much what we eat as what we think.

At first, this suggestion seems unnerving. It is deeply uncomfortable to realise that our view of things might simply be wrong or misguided. (Which is not to say that someone else’s is the truth. It is simply their truth.)

What will your story be? Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

But to realise that our reality is malleable, flexible, subject to revisions is infinitely liberating. We are living through unprecedented and disorientating times. And although we cannot ultimately combat the deadly virus that swirls around us, we can choose how we respond to it.

Due to my health, my husband and I have self-quarantined for a month now. We have gone no further than the post box down the road and spoken to no-one in person other than the neighbours from a safe distance over the fence. Is it weird? Yes. Is it frustrating? Of course. But do I need to make this time a tale of woe? No.

From the bare facts, this could easily have been a narrative of boredom and isolation, but if we deliberately choose to rewrite it, we can. For years, I have longed to go on retreat, to have time to think and read and create without the world’s intrusion. This proved a classic example of, ‘Be careful what you wish for!’

When I discovered that I would have a minimum of twelve weeks of ‘retreat’ ahead of me, it felt a little overwhelming. How could I possibly fill my days? I took a bit of time to work out some daily tasks and projects I would like to complete. Clearly, I was over-ambitious, as my to-do list is still very long. Against all expectations, last month has been one of the happiest.

Having my husband home has been a delight, since most of our married life, work has kept us apart. Mealtimes are a celebration (not least because food can no longer be taken for granted), my house and garden have never looked so loved and my Swedish is coming on admirably.

My friends have all been brilliant at keeping in touch via various social media platforms and regular phone calls. On the days when I would normally get together with someone, we telephone instead and keep each other up-to-date that way. It is not the same as sharing a coffee, but it keeps our bonds strong. Even the kids have been better at video calling, and I get to read stories to my infant granddaughter.

Excellent advice! Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

And I never fail to be amazed by the creativity and ingenuity of others who have found ways not only to overcome adversity but to triumph. I’m stopping for my on-line choir in a moment; wonderful friends are using their sewing skills to help make protective equipment for front-line workers; others are visiting and doing shopping for those who can’t do it themselves.

If we change the narrative from one of victimhood (I’m isolated, bored, restricted) to one of gratitude (I have my home, my family, my friends etc) we can entirely reshape our experience.

I do not say this flippantly. I fully appreciate that we are only at the beginning of these very uncertain times. And though we may be the authors of our lives, we cannot control the twists and turns of plot. What we can control is the central character – us.

It takes effort to swim against the tide of anxiety and terrifying headlines; it takes effort to constantly think of ways to ‘make the best of things’. But however difficult it is to keep writing comedy while tragedy is all around us, I for one am hoping for a happy ending.

Your Day

What better way to round off a series of posts on living beautifully than with you? These last few weeks have left us all frazzled. We have had to be infinitely flexible as, weekly, our worlds have shifted under our feet. Some of us have moved from home working to furlough, most of us are concerned about the financial implications and all of us, I’m sure, are worried that we or someone we love will succumb to this hideous virus.

Amazingly, everyone I know is keeping upbeat and doing everything they can to keep things ‘normal’. My choir (and my teaching) have gone on-line, neighbours are checking in on each other, my WattsApp account is filled daily with joyful photos and hilarious clips. But when your husband has to get up in the middle of the night to secure a slot for your grocery delivery; the furthest you have walked is to the mail box and the only other people you have spoken to in person are your neighbours over the fence, eventually, one starts to sag.

My antidote is this. Give yourself a day in which you nurture yourself; a day in which the worries of life are banished; a day in which you both live beautifully and make yourself beautiful. This spa day will cost you pennies, but I hope will refresh and recharge you for the weeks ahead. Ideally, take a whole day to do this, but if this is not possible, pick out the bits that appeal and do them. A little self-care can do wonders.

Preparations

Choose a day and put it in the diary. Easter is almost upon us, so everyone should have some days off
Make sure that you have clean fluffy towels to emulate a spa experience
Find all those lotions and potions that you have stuck in the back of the drawer, because you never have time to use them. Now is the time.
Have some delicious snacks available and a jug of water to hydrate and detox
Have the ingredients ready for a simple lunch and dinner too (or even better, get someone to make it for you)
Do no housework or other chores. There is always tomorrow for that
As promised, this is an economical spa with luxurious results. In addition to your choice of beauty products, everything you need should be in your kitchen. And all the media links will be here – so all you have to do is press play!

The schedule

A great day starts from a good night’s rest. If like me, sleeping is always a bit of a hit and miss affair, start your day whenever you feel ready to face the world. If that is closer to lunch-time, so be it. This is your day for indulgence.

A mug of hot water is always the best way to cleanse the system – but if you reach for a coffee – I won’t tell. Just try to stick to water from now on.

An empower shower

This is not your usual dash in and out affair. Take your time. Play with all those fun lotions that you never remember to use. (I’m going to be using a body scrub that has sat in my chest of drawers for too long!) Wash and condition your hair.

These lovely beauty products are about to be put to use Photo: Karen Costello-mcFeat

While your body is clean and damp, apply body moisturiser generously remembering your poor feet and ankles. After chemo, my skin still has not resumed its usual elasticity and I sometime feel I resemble a reptile more closely than a human, but I shall be using something fragrant and special on my spa day and leaving the industrial E45 moisturising lotion for another time.

Apply a face mask

This is something that I never do, but really should. I’ve made up a recipe from ingredients I had and you can adapt to what you have available. Since honey is at a bit of a premium at the moment, I’ve gone for a simpler version using oats and olive oil. (If you have almond oil, that is even better.)

A face mask that is good enough to eat! Photo: Karen Costello-McFeat

Rose and oat mask

To make the mask, simply mix a scant 1/2 cup of rolled oats with 2 tablespoons of rose water and 2 tablespoons of plain water. (Or all water) Stir well. The oats should be just damp. Mix in 1 teaspoon of rose petals if you have them plus 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Leave to infuse. Makes enough for two+

When you are ready for your mask, simply scoop the mixture into your hands and rub over your face, neck and upper chest. Place two slices of cucumber over your eyes, lay back and relax for 15 minutes. Rinse off the mask with warm water, splash with cold water and pat dry.

Your face will look radiant and taut.

A little mani-pedi

By now, you should be feeling relaxed and lovely. There is one last thing to do and that is to trim, moisturise and pamper your hard working hands and feet. This is usually a task I do quickly and efficiently, but for my spa day, I took my time, massaged my feet, rubbed any dry parts with moisturiser and took care to trim my nails as nicely as possible. Some of you may wish to add some varnish, but since I spend half my life pulling bindweed from the garden, painted nails are not for me!

Refresh!

After all that ‘hard’ work, it’s time to recharge with some lovely, minty cucumber water and perhaps a light lunch!

After lunch, make space for an activity that is just for you. I love making flower arrangements, reading a book or even taking a nap. Yesterday, I joined my on-line choir for a good sing. Whatever will refresh you – do it!

Bringing inspiration in Photo: Karen Costello-McFeat

Yoga

After all this pampering, a little gentle exercise is in order. I use an excellent CD by Jon Kabat-Zinn, but you may have another instructor that you love. Yoga and other activities such as Qi Gong, Thai Chi or a good walk are a perfect way to end the day.

Dressing for dinner

Now you are looking tremendous and feeling relaxed, it’s time to enjoy a good meal. Dress for dinner and put on make-up if you would normally. If you are isolated, book a video chat with a friend or family member and share your meal that way.

The rest of the evening is yours to enjoy, though I would advise against too much social media or any news. We don’t want to destroy that lovely equilibrium.

And just before you go to bed, I’d recommend a short meditation. You can reflect on your day quietly or follow a guided meditation. The one below is my favourite.

A great way to end the day

When I first started thinking about this blog, I envisaged a day of pampering and self-indulgence. But what I found when I did it, was that it was a day of honouring my body. It was not frivolous but mindful. Our bodies do so much for us that once in a while, we should remember to do something for them.

I wish you a relaxing spa day and a very happy Easter.