Begin. Again.

Easter, like all the world’s spring festivals, is a celebration of new life, of second chances. New beginnings are both exciting and challenging times. We are moving into unchartered territory and the question remains, How shall we approach this? Over the last year and especially the last few days, I’ve been thinking hard about how I would like to proceed in this ‘brave new world’. Things won’t be normal for ages and perhaps never will be, though I can’t say I am sad about that. Our old lives were crazily busy and unsustainable. If this last year has given us anything, it has been the opportunity to hit the pause button on life and reset it. This is an incredible gift, which I doubt will come again. So as we enter into our new ways of being, how will we define them? What structures will we give our lives? When planning this post, I came up with way too many ideas to address here, but I have managed to condense them into five categories – ways of living – that will be good for me and the planet. I doubt I will succeed all the time, but that is the whole point of new beginnings. They can occur once a year or every dawn. If I fail, and I will often fail, I shall just begin. Again.

Living simply

This last year, managing on a very much smaller budget, has meant that living simply was as much a necessity as an option. Yet, bizarrely, our lives were infinitely richer. My husband and I finally had plenty time to spend together; we tended our garden and were rewarded with a bumper crop; we were grateful for everything we had. We had enough.

With my husband getting back to normal working hours, our income will increase once more and the temptation is to return to the convenience that purchasing power gives. However, I am determined to keep living simply at the heart of all I do. I want to make my own bread; I want to make meals a time of celebration as well as nourishment; I want to reduce the demands put on the planet through buying less and up-cycling more.

While doing the obligatory cupboard cleaning, I was appalled at just how much stuff we have. From now on, I’m going to take care to look and see what might serve a purpose before rushing off to buy something new. Often spares languish at the back of the cupboard while we shop. Often, a little imagination enables us to reuse or upcycle objects that might otherwise be thrown out. It is a creative act and one which, for me at least, is more pleasure than chore.

Living slowly

Living frantically didn’t do me any good. Both my serious illnesses were triggered by stress. Slowing down, taking time to simply be, to smell the flowers and to focus mindfully on each task has allowed my body to heal in ways I didn’t think were possible. Tempting though it might be to start rushing around again, I can take a hint.

Ironically, slow living is not boring living. Time doesn’t drag but glides seamlessly from one hour to the next. Slow living is about being rather than doing. And when we live within time, it becomes fluid. The task takes the time it needs to take, no more and no less. Time is no longer the enemy, but rather the liquid medium through which we work.

Living creatively

Time and limited finances have both contributed to living more creatively. There are hours in the day without appointments, so I can doodle and create for as long as the dog is willing to sit still. Apart from childhood, I have never done so many crafts and art projects. They are hardly professional, but they are entertaining. With the help of YouTube, one can learn almost anything and that resource is available to everyone and free.

Stretched finances means that making gifts and cards is the sensible option. Though I can’t offer the most expensive presents, I hope that I can offer something made with the person in mind – a sort of economy bespoke. And when I do purchase something I think the recipient would love, I take time to wrap with care. For my own part, the most precious gifts that I’ve received are ones that someone has made for me. They are the ones that are kept and cherished.

Living flexibly

Just as there are groups for recovering alcoholics, I think there should be support groups for recovering control freaks. In the past, my page to a day diary was crammed with entries: places to be, things to do, appointments and work. A blank page would have left me disoriented. My life was scheduled from sun-up to sundown. And heaven forbid if plans had to be changed! Like removing a brick from a giant Jenga game, one loose block destabilised the whole. Well, the tower did fall eventually and I have been assembling the pieces ever since. Except now, I do not feel the need for a huge tower – any interesting formation will do.

The pandemic with all its shifting rules, uncertainties and cancelled trips, has made planning a fool’s game. So now, in proper Zen fashion, I take each day as it comes. Accepting that one really has very little control in life, though initially horrifying, is hugely consoling. Though I still have tasks I’d like to do each day, I try to ignore the pressure to complete by some arbitrary time, but rather work on the assumption that they will get done. They do not always get finished on the allotted day, but amazingly they are almost always realised. There are advantages to having a shorter list.

Living socially

For me, there is no greater pleasure than the company of those I love. Lock-down has precluded face to face contact, but it has not impeded my enjoying friendships in other ways. My telephone schedule has meant that we are all up-to-date with each others’ news; I write letters and emails more often and at greater length; I have started regular video calls with a friend in the States. I intend to maintain all of these plus, I hope, the joy of personal interaction. Separation from my children in the States is my only real sadness: Skype is only a partial substitute for a hug.

And if these strange times have taught us anything, it is just how much we need and depend on each other. When life’s demands become more urgent again in the coming weeks, the trick will be to remember where our priorities lie.

A roadmap for life

I hope that this long weekend will give you an opportunity to evaluate what you would like life to be like in the future. Elaborate plans are not necessary, but I do think deciding on your objectives and how you might achieve them is helpful. Whatever you decide, I hope it brings you joy.

Happy Easter!