The Sweep
Written by Georgina
"Sometimes there is nothing you can do but let it rain and wait for the sunshine."
Attending an interview for my Masters with a person in Sydney, she wanted to understand what stage 4 restrictions were like. Got to love a social worker. She told me another student had said it was like having Eeyore hanging around all the time.
I laughed. Well nearly spat my coffee, not the thing to do in an interview.
With a seed germinating for a blog I got thinking about that gloomy donkey, rarely in a positive frame of mind with a bleak outlook on life. He is known for saying, “things could be worse. Not sure how, but it could be.” That’s the spirit Eeyore and probably what most of us are feeling in Melbourne.
Truth is it has felt like Eeyore’s been curled up on the end of my bed, waiting for me to open my eyes to the heavy feel of melancholy that just won’t budge. For weeks and months I’ve mandated myself to get up, take the next directed step, and then one after that. To just turn up.
Fighting against the desire to pull the doona back up, Pooh chimes in my head, “People say nothing is impossible, but I do it every single day.” Flatness looms before the alarm, to hell with training, call in sick for work and in darkness before dawn I consider giving up my Masters I’ve only just begun. I ignore it all.
The lovely thing about Winnie the Pooh and his friends is they never ask Eeyore to be anything but himself.
I hear acceptance and usually in that space comes a shift.
My best friend sends me a Rumi poem.
”Every human being is a guest house, every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture. Still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing and invite them all in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.”
Okay. I swing open the door. Come in you bastards. Sweep away because I haven’t done the housework.
Then I’m reminded of Piglet, such a loyal soul with his legendary conversation with Pooh.
“Pooh” whispered Piglet, “yes Piglet?” said Pooh, “oh nothing” said Piglet, “I was just making sure you are there.”
A local friend comes by with almond croissants and I cry as she hands them over from a distance. A florist delivers some flowers from another. My phone flashes with messages of kindness. My friends are the piglets and poohs of my world.
A zoom get together with some of them. We laugh, talk and remember back over years and years of friendship. We celebrate what it has meant to be in each other’s lives meeting each other where we’re at. Come as you are one of them said and I cannot be more comforted than I am with them.
I draw upon all I know. I can be disheartened AND walk into the day. Like Rumi says there is room for it all. Feelings are real but they aren’t facts. There is nothing to do except what needs to be done. I wonder how Pooh feels about that.
With the door wide open, two little kittens sneak in. More akin to Tigger and his boundless energy seeking mischief and mayhem. I feel like Owl with short-term memory loss certain I said no more pets as these little fellas steal our hearts.
For the first time in a long while I begin to feel a weightlessness, the axle tilts and I find myself connected to life again. Eeyore still lays upon my bed, but there’s also Piglet, Owl, Tigger and Pooh. Wow it seems like Playschool windows now. With anything it takes a crew, for balance and perspective, a sense of belonging.
Or it could just be the hormone replacement therapy?
They might have my bed but I’m not sharing croissants.
The doorbell rings, well that’s polite. Just how many more am I to welcome in Rumi?
My delivery from Tasmania of dehydrated food. I’m planning a solo hike as soon as I can, leaving the 100-acre woods behind. To wander under nothing but trees and sky, in a place where you can only walk to get in. Ocean views and flowing waters, the sound of leaves and twigs under my feet, me in my little red tent and carrying only what I need. I long for this simple life.
Please let this be the new delight.