".... seems sometimes
you’re travelling
in circles
mountains you thought
you’d conquered
rise up before you
again and again ..."
It’s hard to believe that we returned from our big trip to Iceland and the Faroe Islands in mid-November. Winter has been and gone and before too long, we’ll be setting out on our next trip in the camper van. I’ll be honest, it took me some time to adapt to being back home, to being fully present. Part of me was still operating at a much slower pace, Scandinavian-style. I’m not sure I’ve every truly caught up, which suits me just fine.
Of course, I’ve slipped back into lots of things almost unconsciously. I’m mentally planning out my days and writing lists. I’m back to doing all the admin stuff that takes up so much of daily life: thinking about what to cook, then cooking it; wondering what to wear; doing laundry; sorting the household accounts; tackling housework. The trappings with which we’re all familiar, right? This is normal. I get that completely. Yes, occasionally it feels mundane. Part of me yearns for the road we took round Iceland’s West Fjords, choosing where and when to swim. But, at the same time, I sometimes have to pinch myself that I’m home in what is a beautiful part of the world. Spring is in the air, and I can go cycling or running straight out of my front door. I appreciate the comforts of home, the convenience of my washing machine and kitchen. I can meet friends for coffee, have lunch with my mum, sleep in my own bed. With a wardrobe full of clothes, I can chose to dress up or dress down (let’s be honest, it’s mostly the latter!). I’ve had a winter of cinema trips and dinners dates to add variety to all the household jobs aforementioned.
This is the reality for most of us, if we are lucky. It isn’t lost on me, that it’s a luxury to have a house to clean, clothes to wash, money to spend. You only have to listen to the news to appreciate just how privileged we are. Right now, I imagine a lot of people are going through very tough times. Life sometimes can appear very black and white, but it’s rarely that straight forward.
This week’s poem could easily have been written in these times; it feels as relevant today as it did when I wrote it over a decade ago. In my experience, most of life is lived on the plateau between the peaks and troughs. It doesn’t always feel that way, most especially when you’re going through a bad patch. But a patch it is: it isn’t permanent. For good or ill, nothing ever stays the same. The highs are just as impermanent as the lows. For the most part, we live in state of flux between physical and emotional states. Every now and again, the balance will feel just right. In my own experience, that’s rare, but can and does happen.
If you, like me, are blessed, you’ll have stretches of time when life feels normal, perhaps even ordinary. Don’t underestimate times like this! I have a ceramic coaster in my house that reminds me to: enjoy the little things as one day you will look back and realise they were the big things. It sounds simple but also very wise. I wrote this poem during a difficult time in my life, juggling competing demands both at home and at work. It forced me to focus on what matters most in life. I realised it wasn’t the highs or lows where life was most lived, but in the spaces between. Give me mundane any day of the week, I’ll take it and be grateful.
fi wynne writes 