On mental health, creativity and hope
Crickets of the nightly hours bring a long awaited rhythm of peace to my veins. A time to get back in check with my mind, my words, my pulse of being and living in a creative and conscious space.
The world has turned so unequivocally upside down, that a crescent sense of desperation kept sneaking its way into people’s hearts. As much as I have fought against it, in the end it got to me too, in the form of many strong emotions, ranging from sadness, to fury, to anxiety, to hope, to optimism and energy to move mountains.
There are always two sides of a story
During the last few weeks, I felt like the world kinda slips away. That pervert feeling of “reality check” and helplessness swept me off my feet and threw me in a dark dungeon of worry, doubt, insecurity. I felt captive in a world where nothing felt safe anymore, nothing was controllable anymore.
A world where you’re always stretching to make ends meet, so that both you and your loved ones have some sort of care and support assured. A world where you’re trapped between tending for physical and emotional safety and still trying to make sense of everything that’s going on.
Just like many other people, I lost some part of what I knew as normalcy, despite my efforts to provide my spirit with a creative and mindful space, my body and heart with a comfortable, cozy and safe home. I can say I did great for the most part of this period since we’ve been stranded away from everything that we knew – friends, colleagues, gatherings, travel and even family. There’s a saying in Romanian – “fă rai din ce ai” – which means “make heaven out of what you have”. And that I did.
However, the larger and deeper the wounds of this pandemic had become, the more restless I would get. Suddenly, my version of heaven wouldn’t cut it anymore, at least not without truly acknowledging the less bright part of it. So I understood that, in order to keep living in my safe bubble, I had to feel what’s out there too, even for a tiny bit.
When all keeps moving around, we must learn how to sway to the rhythm
Relationships have changed dynamics – some grew closer, some found their ways in different directions. Intimacy has become more and more about me, myself and I, exploring and breaking old patterns, with the sole intention of growing from inside out, rather than expecting approval and confirmation of worth from outside.
I try to stay present as much as I can, being careful not to glide towards false projections over an uncertain future. I write, I paint, I watch movies, I read, I dance, I look to the sky, I breathe in the sound of the trees whenever I find a patch of nature. I cry and I laugh, I worry and I console myself, I stay still in meditation and I go running to pump the blood back in my body. I lose hope for a moment, but then I find a silver lining into the most random things and places.
We’ve always been like this. Made of contradictions. Only now, the edges are sharper and sharper, with each day that we’re keeping ourselves away from moving on, in this new normal. It’s hard to let go. Damn, it’s excruciating sometimes. But the sooner we accept and adapt to this new reality, the saner we’ll be.
Lately, I’ve been seeing a white dove flying around my balcony or sitting on a nearby roof, contemplating the world around him, his neck’s twitching movements giving him an alert allure. I wonder what he sees, what he’s learned in his many travels, over the other many roofs he’s been sitting and contemplating. Is it true that he brings peace? Or maybe his presence in these weird summer skies is just as random as it is magical, reminding us to stay present, with our senses open to the unexpected, better things around us.