I’ve slipped easily into a new routine over the past weeks. This is not a surprise because I live simply at the best of times so being able to hear the birds without interruption in the morning and having my children around a lot more is hardly a burden.
I feel extremely grateful that I am still working and that I do not live in a small flat with two young children with insufficient crayons and dwindling patience.
I read the news early on so that I can leave it behind for the rest of the day.
Recently I read an article in “The Atlantic” about how the film “Groundhog Day” is actually an allegory for our times which extends far beyond the title alone.
In the film, Phil Connors, a TV weatherman, gets stuck in February 2nd over and over again forced to face his own judgemental, cynical and self-centred world view until he eventually sees the error of his ways and, through an epiphany triggered by falling in love, changes.
The focus in the piece is not so much on his ultimate redemption but how long it takes him to get there.
When I have watched the film in the past I notice there is a point in it where I begin to become irritated at the interminable arrival of February 2. I think this is probably its genius, that the viewer is pulled into the horror of every day looking pretty much like the last.
Most of us, if asked, would have said before all of this that the thing we want more of is time. Now that many of us have it we don’t really know what to do with it.
But it’s OK to be thrown by having more time. We aren’t used to it.
Limited time is our prime motivator through life. It creates an urgency that would not exist if time were always in abundance.
But perhaps at least some of whatever horror exists currently is of our own making.
It’s easy at the moment to hear ourselves saying, “I really miss…”. Better probably if we can find our way towards, “What I really value is…”
There’s no doubting the impact of uncertainty on our emotional wellbeing but we don’t have to make it worse.
I noticed some brightly coloured flowers growing out of a crumbling wall this morning. The wall itself is in a terrible state and looks as if it’s on the point of collapse. The flowers, on the other hand, looked beautiful and vibrant against the grubby backdrop and taken together, the wall and flowers created something special.
We don’t know where or when redemption will be but, unlike Phil in the film, we can at least recognise genuine beauty when we come across it because that will ultimately help to get us all through.
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