I’m not in my house right now — I’m staying with my parents up in Scotland as the winter wave of this pandemic hits London hard. For the most part, being away from London has been fine. I take things day by day, and that’s helped. Trying not to look at the big picture, you know?
But this morning I got a text from one of my flatmates saying she’s got a negative test result and is returning to the house after being away in Italy. Another flatmate is also getting a test and returning.
It’s been easier to not think about London, to think about my house, my flatmates, the distance between me and my regular life. My boyfriend. But those texts made me zoom out from my small, day-to-day focus and see the bigger picture: a pandemic which is disrupting our lives so hugely.
I’ve started to do interviews with people and there’s these perspectives on lost time which are totally different, yet work together. There’s the microscopic, stir-my-tea, look out the window perspective, and then there’s the bigger picture.
During the pandemic, when I look at the bigger picture, I get sad.
I like to think of it as a boat metaphor. I’m in the cabin, passing the time as I wait to arrive at my destination (life post-pandemic). Something prompts me to draw myself away from my writing/painting/card games and I go up to the top deck to take a look out at the sea. From the deck I watch these huge waves rise and fall, a storm is brewing in the distance and there’s no land in sight. I go back to my cabin but I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
The sea is dark and the way is unknown.
That’s why it’s easier to deal with the smaller things — what’s inside my cabin, what I have in front of me.
Is there a way to love the bigger picture even if we don’t know what it means? Is there a way to love the black, unfurling sea? Do you know what I’m saying?
The bigger picture is usual put together and contextualised after the event has passed. After the pandemic, I’ll be able to make meaning out of it. But for now, it’s the small stuff.
(…but is there a way to love the big, unknown picture?)