Hall Pass

The world is topsy turvy once again.

Isolation once more prescribed, reminding me of that lockdown we all experienced not so long ago.

Being home during a work week feels strange, like I'm playing hooky when I should be nose to the grind-stoning. The silence and the peace feels foreign, like my default is meant to be suffering with a mind pre-occupied by duties and responsibilities like a good little girl. 

What is this  strangeness? 

Feels like I've been given a giant hall pass by the universe and  am not quite sure what to do with it. I am the lady with the TO DO lists, the one that gets a kick out of checking things off. Doing an accomplishment, and Being feels almost sinful.

So I wake up as usual, sit in front of  my laptop as usual, get busy with planning, and admin, and creating worksheets and spreadsheets, and ticking boxes and filling in surveys, and taking online courses, and zooming for hours on end.

And I find myself still taking a coffee break at the allotted time, like it is sacrilege doing it any other time as I'm still on the clock, and I  expect myself to perform as usual though no one is watching.  50 years of programming has me good and I have no clue how to be. In the past there were numerous times where I would secretly wished for this exact scenario minus the pandemic, end-of-days vibes. Under usual circumstances I would never slack off, never take a day, never disengage. 

Yet how many times haven't these thoughts crossed my mind: "Wish I was home," or "If I was in my pj's, I would conquer the world."

I don't think we were ever meant to conquer the world; that is for megalomaniacs and narcissists with control issues and god complexes. What I need to conquer is my mindset, my thought patterns, my mentality which has me living everywhere but in the present, with my consciousness asleep.

So I changed, 1 thing at a time, 1 day at a time. And everyday I pray and do yoga and breathing exercises as if my life depends on it.

And it does.

7:30 am.

Monday, 6 September 2021.

4 Weeks in lockdown.

8 Days since I've ventured out.

Months and years since seeing my loved ones.

It is Brunei-hot, 34 degrees at 75% humidity, and I love it enough to leave the aircons off. Phew, the stickiness is coating my body leaving my T clinging to me like a needy child. The beep-beep of the dirt truck interrupts my  thoughts, my fingers hovering over keys. I'm glad I had remembered to put out the rubbish the night before, mundane tasks have become my forte. I missed Shah, he has a knack for taking care of the small things without my even noticing.  And I miss the hot morning coffee at my bedside everyday for 30 years. Sighing heavily I make my way to the dry kitchen to whip up a latte. The Nespresso machine grumbling almost as deeply as I do, releasing the coffee into the cup.  I curl my lip around the rim and foam clings to it like a pencil moustache. The image of Shah sipping coffee on a stoep in the sunshine in Bree Street catches my eye, and I raise my cup to him. We are so different in so many ways, but with coffee we're on common ground.

And I wander through the quiet house , my bare feet against cool tiles making my way to the canvas of them, my people and I'm smiling and tearing up at the same time. Our times together are always epic because of our shared love for food and laughter. We are laf together, deep belly laughs our soundtrack wherever we find ourselves. And even now, across continents, they prove to me everyday that connection transcends time and distance. 

I close my eyes the pandemic weighing heavily on me, the future uncertain... But then I remember the sheer audacity and determination with which Shah conquered covid, and there is a lesson in that for me. I remember that in my absence my son fearlessly took care of his dad till my return, and there is a lesson in that for me. And remember that I am here in a foreign country surrounded by people not quite my own who have accepted me and supported me without reserve, and there is a lesson in that for me. And I remember the sheer will it took me to get here, and the reason for it, and a feeling of gratitude overwhelms me.

I make my way upstairs, with each step feeling lighter. I hear the "Call to Prayer" almost as if on cue, and I smile knowingly this time. This is where it all resides: Peace and Faith; Purpose and Presence. 

The prayers roll of my tongue as if I'm fluent in Arabic. 

Turning to God, I give thanks for the lessons which led me back Home amidst a global pandemic.