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.)
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.
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.