'During an Experiment with Light meditation I got a clear sense that the most important thing for me to do was to look after myself.' Photo: Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.
Heavy duty? For wardens, lockdown threatened more than just work, says Klaus Huber
‘Talk of a second lockdown pushed me over the edge.’
On 16 March, our first booking was cancelled. Four days later, they had all vanished, and worship was suspended. On my answerphone I found a message from our clerk of trustees, reassuring me that my salary would be guaranteed until the end of June. It suddenly dawned on me that my job (and, as the resident warden, my home) might be at stake. I spent that Friday evening in tears.
The following months were a mixed bag. My spirits were lifted by a new friendship, walks, and regular contact with a few Friends (including my line manager). Loneliness made occasional appearances. The ‘Wardens Talking’ Zoom meetings provided support and a sense of connection. The emptiness of the Meeting house was heart-breaking.
Back at work in July, I rattled through the re-opening procedures. After about two weeks, it gave me a great sense of satisfaction to remove the ‘temporarily suspended’ sign from our noticeboard, and to welcome the first post-lockdown worshipper. Soon after, I started to get increasingly exasperated by the ever-changing, often Kafkaesque, government guidance.
In September, talk of a second lockdown pushed me over the edge. My accumulated frustration turned into fury and rage. I had to do something to stay sane. I stopped following the news and avoided coronavirus discussions (even ceasing ‘Wardens Talking’ meetings). I tried to busy myself with other things to get the virus off my mind. I managed to reduce my anger below boiling point. Not far below.
I have a supportive Meeting and good employers. Throughout furlough I remained on full salary. Then I was given a new job description and employment contract. Performing more tasks in slightly fewer hours doesn’t sound like a great deal, but under the circumstances, it’s excellent. The loss of income is manageable, and my job and home are safe for now. I’m more fortunate than millions of others. Thinking of all those less fortunate people makes my fury return. Not thinking of them would be giving in to the widespread ignorance all over this crazy world.
In autumn I had spells of mild depression. During an Experiment with Light meditation I got a clear sense that the most important thing for me to do was to look after myself – not just for my own sake, but also for the sake of others and my Meeting. I remembered a story I wrote many years ago, in which hope is personified as a young woman who walks past me in a moment of total despair. In the story, I ask her who she is. She answers ‘Hope’, but keeps walking, and I have to run to catch up with her. In my meditation, I found that I had made the mistake of standing still in the wrong place and now have to catch up with Hope, then take her hand, so that I won’t lose her again.
One of the Light meditation prompts reads: ‘Trust the Light and continue to wait’. It sums up very well where I’m at. Continuing to wait doesn’t mean sloth, but actively waiting for opportunities to act – like the herons do around here. And to trust in the Light is to walk with Hope.
Comments
Trust the Light and continue to wait’
When my wife died I knew I had to wait for new light… but after 7 years I’m still waiting. It’s not easy
By john0708 on 3rd December 2020 - 15:46
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