Yesterday, I was looking through my photo files in search of a particular shot amongst the tens of thousands of files stored on my various drives. Most of those photographs document our journeys through the landscape, visits to sacred places and the beauty and history hidden within our mediaeval churches and cathedrals. Some, though, document the events we have held at many of these places and in particular, the faces of those who have attended, caught, almost inevitably, in laughter.
Just looking at the pictures from those weekend events, I found image after image of smiling faces, happy to share a moment with the camera or caught off guard in merriment. Even the ducks were smiling. And I found myself smiling back. It was not something over which I had any control… each smile drew a response, both in memory and in actuality. The photographs may have been taken a while ago, but the smiles on the screen were my ‘now’… and because I know and love these people too, each smile was familiar, warm and direct. Especially as, nine times out of ten, it had been me who was pointing the camera in the first place.
It was April last year when I wrote ‘A Bridge of Smiles’. Things were not looking good with our world at that point. The virus was biting and fear was oozing in through every crack we allowed. And yet we could still smile and connect with each other… sharing anecdotes and laughter as we waited dutifully in socially distanced lines to be allowed into a shop. That was before masks became mandatory. Before smiles were hidden behind a veil of fabric, before voices and laughter were muffled and the expression of joy made to feel like some kind of guilty pleasure.
All our senses seem to be under attack somehow, from the virus itself depriving many of both taste and smell, to our inability to hug or reach out to one another in times of need and comfort, to the impossibility of seeing each other’s faces or hearing a voice clearly.
We are social creatures deprived of society, tactile beings deprived of touch…and even the brightness of a smile is being hidden away from us. I honestly cannot remember the last time I saw a genuine and spontaneous smile outside of these four walls. That is a sad state of affairs and serves only to emphasise how disconnected many are feeling from each other and from the great stream of life that flows around us.
“Creativity,” wrote Osho, the Indian mystic, “is the greatest rebellion in existence.”
Perhaps we need to be rebelling… finding creative ways in which to break the stranglehold of fear and the ever-increasing restrictions with which our senses are being bound? One woman who cannot be there to offer a hug, for example, sent scarves to wrap her friends in love… a gesture that brought both tears and smiles and there is joy in such beauty.
And yet we are living in a climate where there is so much fear and uncertainty still, with measures being imposed to which few can see a clear end. So many are worried for their homes, families, livelihoods and even their lives… so much damage is being done to mental and emotional health as well as to practical levels of wellbeing. And so much is, or at least appears to be, beyond our control.
There must be as many small ways as there are people in which we can ‘creatively rebel’ against the enforced sensory deprivation that is affecting so many of us worldwide. Whether it is standing in the sunlight, consciously drinking in the moment, making a point of smiling behind the mask or just making eye contact to share a human moment… we can change our own world second by second and perhaps change the world for the better for those around us too. Joy is still there in the small things… and the human heart has a capacity for finding it in the strangest of places, if we give ourselves the chance to look.
I understand … mask and all, I do still smile. I try to squinch my eyes up in a smiley way (not great for the wrinkles, but oh well) … or even point to myself and tell the poor stranger standing 6 feet away that whatever i just said to break the ice, I’m smiling underneath!! We do the best we can, right?
We do, Lois…and so do I… but when you look around and see even that simple thing… just how many smiles are missing from our days, it makes for a grey landscape…
I have noticed that people are talking to each other more, even though its a bit muffled… so all is not lost…
I wish I could say the same around here…
You must be feeling lonely, Sue… are you getting out at all?
I don’t do lonely… but not getting out a lot… bar medical appointments.
I just wish the weather was better, I’m only leaving the house to feed the birds…
It is a gloriously cold and sunny one today… but I’m still stuck in. 🙁
Me too, far too busy!
🙂
When we first moved to Lincolnshire, we knew no-one, but walked a lot, so saw regular people. Although conversations didn’t automatically begin, we’d wave. We became known as ‘Them Wot Wave’ and we still do……… to our friends out on our walks, to people passing the window and looking in (our blinds are open during the day and our lounge is at the front of the house), to people inside their homes looking out when we go for our walks, people passing in cars, people out on their drives. If they are close enough, we can say Hi and ask how they are. It’s not much, but it’s something, and to the many that live alone, makes a difference. Our community has come closer together, still keeping themselves to themselves as we do, but acknowledgement counts, and can mean a lot.
I agree, it does not have to be anything grand… just a human ‘touch’, even when touch itself s not allowed. It really can make all the difference.
Well said, Sue. It’s amazing how many people are hiding in fear behind their masks, afraid or unwilling to speak. Even eye contact is fleeting at best, as if looking at someone or speaking to them somehow makes exposure to the virus a dangerous certainty. I suppose it’s better than those who refuse to follow any of the guidelines and truly endanger all of us. Fear and ignorance manifest themselves in strange ways, worsening our isolation and loneliness. Sending love and hugs your way!
A sensible balance between safety, concern for others and our own need to continue to be human might be a good way forward, but fear can erase common sense so quickly…
Hugs, Alexander.
wonderful words, Sue. My favorite line is “Joy is still there in the small things.”
And how nice to have those photos to bring back such happy memories…
Thanks, Jim… Iwas grinning like the Chesire Cat at some of the photos I came across 🙂
👍
I take great joy and also smiling-ness at your continued alive-ness. 😀
I shall endeavour to perpetuate those particular smiles 😉
😀
There is an elementary school on my block and I can look out every morning and see the children waiting…you can see the happy energy as they greet their friends. They seem unfazed by either masks or social distancing. It always makes me smile. And people do seem to make an effort to acknowledge one another on the street, even if only with eye contact and a nod. (K)
That is good to hear.Here, it is not so obvious.
I’m sure each neighborhood is different. I am lucky, I know.
Villages can be surprisingly ‘distant’…
People’s hearts have grown heavy, it seems. Since the beginning last March, I was concerned about the long-lasting damage that was bound to have its effect on most folks. I worry about developmental delays in children, some that may never be recovered. Part of me accepts that life can give you lemons and it is our response that makes the difference. Like your looking at old photos, enjoying the memories, we have to get creative in caring for our hearts and mental well being. Humorous videos serve to lighten my mood when I need it, and getting outside to listen to birdsong or even to just potter around the garden, helps, too.
Sending you love, hugs and smiles across the miles. xo
Yes, the children worry me… and how many generations dpfrward might we be looking before the damage disappears…
I always enjoy your perspectives on life Sue. The photo gallery was beautiful. <3
That gallery holds so many memories..<3
<3
There are days when the isolation is so pressing! Just meeting someone on a walk and stopping – miles apart – for a short chat is the highlight of the day. The weather doesn’t help! But…I am learning to read eyes. And look at old pictures!
Tell me about it… I don’t always manage getting out of the house these days.
Definitely Sue – I agree. There is joy in little things.
It is the small things that make up the big ones, Lynn, as you know. It doesn’t take much sometimes to change everything…
Reblogged this on Sun in Gemini and commented:
From Sue… and evergreen.