Wild April
Wild April.
April 28, 2020
It’s nearing the start of winter and we’re in the middle of a Pandemic. Jesse is currently occupied trying to fix the door handle that practically snapped off in the middle of the night. It’s been a wild and windy month, showers and heavy rain to-ing and fro-ing throughout the day, wind sweeping through in violent gusts of 70 knots. The nights are coming quicker and the air has that crisp autumn feel, just hanging on the brink. Less than 2 months ago, we finished up our last resupply and island life was carrying on like usual. Now, we’re conserving meat and essentials, and foraging for meals as often as we can.
The world has done a summersault and landed upside-down. Many of the freedoms we used to take for granted are now suspended on threads of distant longing. Even if I could somehow return home to my family in the States, I’d be leaving Jesse behind and seeing him again God knows when. We’re all stuck where we’re at, a shared global experience in isolation. From the island, we watch what unfolds only through news feeds and pictures of people wearing masks in public places. Empty streets and crowded homes. People tear their hair out in confinement, while mother nature takes a long, deep breath in.
Isolation has its challenges. Experiences with one’s self can be confronting. After all, you’re forced to stop running and be still. Face yourself in the proverbial mirror, with no escape from the reflection staring back at you. You rely on your partner in ways you never have before. You learn them on a whole new level. And much like the ocean, sometimes what you uncover at such extreme depths can be disconcerting.
Isolation robs us of family dinners and outings, a shared beer amongst friends, moseying through opp shops with a coffee in hand, attending concerts or classes, or gathering at Parks. But as with every coin, there are two sides to isolation. Isolation can be all of the things I described above and worse, but it can also be the stillness and the beauty we’ve forsaken in our lives. It doesn’t matter who you are, isolation has an agenda. It aims to slow your pace and bring about a simpler sort of being.
We know a lot about our sort of isolation here. Some of which you may find comparable, some of which you will not. Isolation is a part of life on the island, today as it ever was. The days seem to blur together here. From an outsider they would all look very similar, and yet to us each one is still unique.
Our days begin and end the same. We walk the same paths and tend to the same chores - check the buildings, check that a possum didn’t break into the garden, feed the chooks and let them out to roam, cook breakfast, put a bread on, begin chipping away at the jobs that need doing, paint the house, gather the firewood, plant the garden, repair the shed, fill the batteries, check the water, check the power, check the emails, time for lunch (not many options), take something out of the freezer for dinner, hot drink, carry on with work, something breaks, save it for tomorrow, go for our walk (sometimes run), check the animals and surrounds, bring the laundry in off the line, do the dishes from the day, cook the dinner, eat the dinner, have some chocolate, watch some Netflix, go to sleep and repeat. When written in sequence, this life sounds exceedingly mundane, but within these simple acts that make up the hours of our day, we have found immense joy and extraordinary beauty.
We cherish even the simplest of encounters. Have you ever come face-to-face with a Green Rosella? These little, green birds are notoriously cunning and mischievous. They are most famous for making quaint homes out of chimneys and roof spaces, as they have now on both of the islands we have come to caretake. This morning, we watched as they tested our new flu cap just hours after it was installed. The cheeky, green nemesis crept around the circumference of the cap, gnawing at the shiny metal, one step then chew, another step, try again. Test, test, test. Once they find a weakness, there’s hardly any stopping them. We watched lightheartedly, baffled and amazed at the boldness it took to undertake such reconnaissance with us standing just a few close steps away.
Would we have noticed before isolation shaped us? Would we have stood still long enough to admire this small audacious act?
Isolation teaches a different sort of patience. It teaches us how to stand still. Stillness and presence is indeed something that needs practice. We naturally busy ourselves and fill our days, and then end them wondering why we feel so empty and unaccomplished. Somewhere along the way, we forfeited our moments. We started squeezing them into week-long vacations or a Saturday afternoon on the trail. In isolation, we have the opportunity to take our moments back. To remember what it’s like to use all 5 of our senses throughout the day. The feeling of a soft breeze as it touches your cheek, or the sounds of the birds in your backyard, the smell of the air as it teeters between seasons, and the sight of all the abundant beauty of this world.
Oh yes, Isolation has taught us much. About life and about ourselves. It’s not an easy way of living, but it holds many wondrous secrets. In isolation, we find peace in the simplicity, solitude in the mundane, beauty in the abundant gifts of nature, satisfaction in working with our hands, faith that it didn’t happen by accident, and hope in the promise that we will see our family once again.
I will end this little rambling with a list of opportunities we’ve encountered from our time in isolation. You’re sure to have found many of them in your quiet time as well. After all, your island is your home and your home is your island.
Embrace the downtime we’ve always wanted
Slow “our roll”
Get to know our neighbours, not the human kind
Nature is a thing that deserves to be marveled
Know when it’s time to put the “tools down”
Write down precious thoughts and memories, they might not ever return
Embrace our inner Craftsman
Pay attention to the weather, it truly is astonishing
Use all 5 of our senses, we have them for a reason
Every day is a good day to plant a vegetable
Arguing is completely normal
Everyone is an Artist
Find a new sense of self in the quiet
Self-motivation is the hardest sort of motivation
There will always be distractions, no matter where we are
Physical distance is needed from a smartphone
Everybody loves a Baker
Exercise is essential, especially in isolation
How the hell do 2 people make so many dirty dishes?
Too much bad news can be detrimental to a heart
Music helps…a lot
Reading is wonderful, as long as you can find the headspace
Projects are freedom from anxiety
When in doubt, call a loved one
Give yourself a break, bad days are normal
Isolation breaths new meaning to the phrase “Netflix and chill”
Try the things we never thought we would
Organisation can help you breath better, figuratively speaking
Embrace creativity and the mindset we never made time for
I’m sure the list goes on…
Thank you kindly for this wild & windswept photo, Jesse Siebler.
