Stephen, Jess, Stanley & Bracken
Before all this, I could feel a storm brewing. I met a stranger on the train in December and we got chatting, we talked about life, the universe and everything. I had visited the Tutankhamun exhibition at the Saatchi gallery and I marvelled at how sophisticated civilisations like the Ancient Egyptians could so rapidly fall, and wondered what it would be like to be living at the end of a civilisation. He said “you don’t need to wonder; you’ll experience it first hand”. It stopped me in my tracks. He was just a random stranger with an eccentric view of the world. but I couldn’t shake the notion that despite the everyday monotonous security of my experience of life so far, it all could suddenly be pulled from beneath my feet. What on earth could possibly change things that dramatically?
Perhaps this isn’t quite the demise of a civilisation (or perhaps we are teetering on the brink of the end of days) but whatever happens next, life as we know it has been shaken up and turned on its head in a way inconceivable to the Me from that train journey in December.
To begin with it felt a bit like a surreal joke, but I would play along, waiting for someone to pop out and say “fooled you!”. It was a relief to stop tearing through each day at breakneck speed - something that couldn’t have come too soon. It was wonderful walking across the common without the eternal grumble of traffic. A flurry of heartwarming posts about wildlife reclaiming the world filled my newsfeed. Home-schooling was a new game we’d play, just for a giggle. Video chatting became the norm, which I hated at first, then realised it was kind of nice, though I have never before looked at my own face so frequently and where before it was acceptable to multitask seeing people or calling people while doing other stuff, this medium required my full, undivided attention.
Right now, I consider myself one of the lucky ones. Though it does seem like fate has selected some wildly unpredictable rules as to who suffers and who comes out on top in all this; it’s anyone’s guess what will happen next. After months of news about Brexit, worldwide environmental protests, storms and flooding, the latest thing Trump has tweeted, the death of George Floyd, the crisis in Hong Kong and an almighty dose of global pandemic my eyebrows are no longer motivated to lift at the next headline. My normality gauge has shifted and I feel like I can take a glimpse into how on earth someone like Hitler snuck into such a position of power, or how cults recruit followers, or how relationships continue through decades of abuse. My brain has just come to accept the current level of absurdity.
I haven’t learnt a new language, or taken up a hobby. I haven’t been doing tv yoga or watching any more Netflix than I normally would. And despite spending far more time with the kids, my life hasn’t really changed that much. But the world outside my four walls has become a very different place. Society has connected and fragmented to equal measure in strange new ways. Technology has advanced rapidly, while many have enthusiastically embraced a simpler life. My heart is filled with fear and hope for what’s to come. I fear how much worse things may yet become. I fear the anger and desperation that might bubble up to the surface as a result. I fear that all the progress we’ve made in recognising the need to reduce waste and plastics will be reversed. I fear communities will split further and prejudices will become ever more prevalent. I fear all we’ve realised or learnt about doing things differently will be forgotten. I fear promises will be broken and history will eternally repeat itself.
I’m not even sure what my hopes are, or how to articulate them but I’m hoping them with all my might, my eyes tight shut and my fingers crossed. It’s not a selfish hope, but one on behalf of the whole world and every living thing in it. I guess then maybe my hope is that everyone else has the same sort of hope and when we emerge from whatever we still have to get through, we can collectively support each other in building something new and better from what’s left.