Two years. It’s been two years. A lonely two years, relationships put to the test, tempers tempered, on some heads, not all. Yes, the world has twirled madly on its axis for two years, a whirling dervish of disease and other things. What other things? Video group singing, guitar playing, saxophone, trumpets, drums. A veritable table of music. To cheer the mass. Zoom heads, talking, listening, laughing, articulating. Except when not. Articulation comes naturally to some, but zooming in on open pores, red eye, bed head, can numb the tongue.
But now, ye he, after two bloody crappy years, here in our fair isle, anyhow, we can unfurl our curl, stretch our arms, and legs. Isolation is at an end. The work force can officiate, or not, depending on dependency. Planes fill, buses fill, trains fill, the thrill of getting out and about creating a buzz. The sun joins us. Warms us. Our tentacles reach up and up towards it. There are deer, there are rabbits, birds galore. Hootie hoo, says one, admiring the show beneath him, whatever that may be. More ramblers, perhaps, joggers, cyclists. Ting. The exercise scene which was set in lockdown, not much else to do, is raging on, a nod to fine mental health.
So, keep it up, head up, shoulders down, step up, step out, shed those built-up pounds. Pound away from the isolation blues, home brew barrels, gorging TV shows, star gazing, statistics, and edge closer to the people. Mix and mingle, maskless. Let’s laugh at the games we played, our art projects, our musical feats, our precarious yoga positions, the barkingly mad downward facing dog, take the swab from the nostrils, and yet save quiet time to weep for the ill, the grieving, the dead. We can’t forget. Hold tight to the memory bank, as well as releasing the future. Let’s shout out to camaraderie, loosen our belts, breathe in, laugh out loud, face to face, in the flesh, and let go.
Jimjan's Journal 