Sometimes it takes a pandemic to realize what matters, and what doesn’t.
It has taken me all these weeks of quarantine, eight to be more precise, to make sense of it all. It’s a rather peculiar process that occurs. For my Gemini mind, it’s like an invisible friend pops up and starts typing at a typewriter. Quickly, relentlessly, and always at the wrong times. When I’m in the shower, on a walk or doing seamlessly menial tasks. While watching a movie or reading a book. When I’m not at my desk, but rather on a break. That’s when I get these downloads of clarity. Thoughts are pouring in and there have been many as of late.
Which is why writing them down has always been my religion. My therapy, my release if you may. It needs to get out, to take on a voice.
It’s been 187 days of isolation, or so it felt … ages since I had last been anywhere, aside from the supermarket or the one-kilometer radius permitted. March felt like two years, while April … I’m not sure where it went, what happened, what day merged onto the next. It is mid-May and I can finally move more freely, without a signed and dated declaration.
I won’t lie. While I am used to working from home, this period has felt like being under house arrest. As even with remote working, it comes with frequent in person meet-ups, coffee shop breaks, lunch in various places and industry events. Not to mention trips. There is always diversity and connection. My profession aside, the distance restriction and no access to nature sights (which have been closed in Bucharest throughout the two-month state of emergency) have been tough to reconcile with. That’s usually how I get my creative ideas, my burst of energy and motivation. I need air – always have – always will. Even if I don’t travel anywhere, being out and about, interacting with the city or the natural world in some way is a prerequisite for my wellbeing.
It was never about travel alone for me, but the energy and inspiration I get from other people, nurturing the curiosity that feeds my mind.
For the majority of this quarantine, I’ve been more or less at two ends of the spectrum. Either surprisingly at peace or even exuberant at times, or the total opposite, feeling apathetic, irritated, frozen in a cocoon of nothingness. I’m certainly not that person that can work nonstop just because I’m forced to stay in. I’m lacking that extra spark to get things in motion. The week before Orthodox Easter, I was so depleted of energy, I thought I may have caught the virus. I was incredibly scattered, like I couldn’t keep my thoughts together. I would forget what I did the day before. It was all a messy blur. I started keeping a journal to keep track.
On occasion, I was razor sharp, with a whopping amount of ideas pouring in. I would quickly try to jot them down somewhere. I didn’t know where they all came from. It was as if my whole being was purging down the clutter, a coming out of a dark night of the soul type of energy.
One of the things I will take away from this period, and this year as a whole I reckon, is the true meaning of SLOWING DOWN. Despite the global effects on health and economy, the complete and total stillness was certainly cathartic for me. Never have I been forced more to acknowledge the now. To focus on what I can control. To acknowledge that those simple things we all rushed through before, can bring meaning and a solid sense of grounding.
I’ve become more conscious of what I eat, where I source it, and preparing it myself. I’ve learnt the power of intention and keeping certain routines. I’ve tried to show up for live streamed yoga sessions within a tight-knit community. Not just for my body, but for my mind and soul’s sake too. To disconnect, if only for an hour.
I’ve switched to buying more plants, more books, and more pots. For someone who’s moved often in the last decade and a half, those were exactly the things I associated with holding me down, the first things I’d need to minimize. As time passes, I feel the need to do the opposite now. I’ve certainly underestimated the joy that ten new leafy “roommates” can bring. I’ve learnt a lot about plants and even potted some, something I didn’t think I’d care about.
I’ve found solace and a dose of creativity in cooking. I’ve always enjoyed it, especially while living in the U.S. or France when I couldn’t find dishes I missed, or for a sense of home comfort. But now, a yearning for foods I’ve grown to love from around the world got me started. I discovered what I miss most are Asian flavors. I’ve delved into an exciting repertoire of culinary experiments, concocting certain soups and stews for the first time, veggie curries and tortillas, fusion pastas and a whole lot of South Asian and North African aromas. It gave me meaning and satisfaction to please my ever-changing cravings. A sense of playfulness amidst the chaos. To prepare the mise en place and document it all with photos and videos. To have something to look forward to while live cooking with friends online. In effect, it counted as a healing source.
But perhaps most importantly, I’ve taken the time to do a vigorous self-assessment, solidifying the one relationship that matters most in this life, with myself. That’s right. How I view myself, what I need, why I react in certain ways. Where it all comes from and what needs to go, going forward. I have a feeling many of you have done a bit of inner sweeping as well. Probably the best time investment in this never-to-be-forgotten 2020.
In this getting to know myself better, I’ve learnt I’m quite intuitive. And how listening to oneself should be our compass. I’ve had quite a few of these gut feelings in recent months, when something bad was about to happen. It’s almost scary sometimes. With the current crisis, it was similar. This time I did follow my own hunch. Friends laughed at me when towards the end of February into early March, I was reluctant to book long flights for a month later, or when I was mentioning my thoughts on the disruptive effects this would have all around the world, not just the initial cluster in China, and then Italy. It felt like a ticking bomb to me, and thus, I was hesitant in investing time in planning complex trips that I viewed as not happening. Within a very short span, my intuition proved to be on par. One after another, events, trips, conferences were cancelled, and repatriation flights started in locations previously thought of as virus-free.
In the same way, I’ve upped the communication levels all across the board. With clusters of close friends, we wondered why it took a pandemic to commit to weekly video calling instead of just chatting. It’s been sobering to realize that no matter the distance, we were all experiencing the same with some variations. From U.S. to U.K., Spain, France, Italy or Germany, or further out in South Africa, where lockdown hit especially hard, everyone I have talked to was having a similar story. It didn’t matter if it was in the Balkans or all the way in China.
Meeting online, however tiresome it has become, has been a blessing. I’ve lost count of how many video calls there have been, or the wide range of topics, but after each one I was filled with hope, togetherness and a sense of community.
While we’re physically isolated like never before, I’ve felt more socially connected at the same time. Part of a global village. Because now we don’t just “catch up,” or adapt to the big changes in our work lives. We discuss mental health, share smart recipes, home improvement solutions or how to best keep your body moving at home. No wonder we end up with an empty tank, even if we’re “just at home.”
GRATITUDE is a word that’s being overused these days. But that’s exactly the feeling I chose to align myself with, in lieu of overwhelm. Seeing the silver lining amidst the upheaval. I never understood the rationale in being grateful for the tough times. Something a coach would tell you. But now I do, wholeheartedly. Because with every rough patch, there is growth and evolution. Many of the old ways, or beliefs, may be falling apart, but innovative ideas have come to the surface, societies pairing up, as well as surprising reconnections. Infinite examples of solidarity. As if the old world as we knew it is crumbling, giving rise to a new one. A collective shift in perception.
I realized that no experience goes to waste, especially the bad ones. As if each crisis soothes out the next.
I’m no stranger to big life changes, to adapting constantly or to feelings of loss and grief; I just didn’t expect this to come in handy for the past few weeks. My emotional muscles are much better prepared thanks to them. I’ve become a veteran at transitioning, always planting new seeds.
As uncomfortable as it can be, radical acceptance has proven a better recipe for me than constant resistance. That pocket of inner turmoil, doubt or fears we all have stashed somewhere, left to solve itself out or always pushed to the side for later, now needed to be assessed. There was no other place to journey to, but within self.
“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty, ” Maya Angelou.
Exactly. We’re shedding layers, transforming into a new chapter. The challenge here is to smoothly pivot on the other side, without succumbing to the victim mentality.
From the first few weeks when during my rare walks, it seemed as if Bucharest was uninhabited, to spring settling in full glory, and people slowly coming out of isolation, it’s been odd to see an entirely different Bucharest. One invaded by loud, cheery birds, a heady, invigorating smell of spring blossoms and chestnut trees, a silence so poetic like never before seen. Raw and unaltered. Natural sounds and smells heightened to a dreamlike frequency; if only the cause wasn’t so disruptive …
I’ve personally felt safer in the quiet, wide open space. Made me feel alive, as opposed to caged in; that everything will be O.K. Much more than just a personal preference, this NY Times article explains it best. The exercise, relaxing effect and creative recharge brought upon by walking are all scientifically proven to help.
Travel will forever be changed, I suspect, and so will my job in many of its forms. Although highly uncertain still, this shift could also bring about some positive change. Less of the let me travel as much as possible for status seekers, more responsible travel and a bigger focus on local tourism and small businesses. I would very much hope quality versus showoff(y) quantity will prevail at some point. For more meaningful discovery of cultures and their respective communities, versus just ticking off countries in a mad dash from airport to airport.
I’m hoping that EMPATHY and COMPASSION will continue amongst us, even after we will have weathered the storm. I’ve always been passionate about supporting local artisans, but now it is ever more crucial. On days when I was doing lots of research and diversifying my food & drinks purchases, or donations, I wasn’t sure why at the end of the day it felt as if something had vacuumed all my energy. Until I realized the coronavirus crisis has brought upon a new way of socializing. With so many more people than you would normally talk to on any given day, on so many platforms. Unless you consciously disconnect sometimes, the need to communicate, and check-in how others are doing, is never ending.
There were days I carried a heaviness I couldn’t shake off. I was worried about my U.S. friends, some of which have worryingly battled the virus, despite being young and healthy. Others have lost their jobs or loved ones. Others have lost their way. I was concerned about relatives abroad and all my New York City friends.
However, this pandemic has also opened the door to new possibilities or issues I hadn’t thought of before, and brought back people into my life, whom I’ve gotten closer to. It has brought in calm and joy through kindness, and mutual compromise.
Through an endless management of home deliveries, the curbside chat has become the new catching up. Leaving me feeling glorious after a series of little victories and unexpected gifts. More honesty in casual banter. And more kinship.
For all this I am grateful. I’m taking the demons out of the closet and getting back to writing. More, much more.
Photo credit: Marc Dozier.
