It’s amazing how bleak things can seem. Right before they’re not! Although the process can be far from simple, overcoming that sense of ‘stuckness’ is key, often by (somehow) getting out that front door. Or at the very least, doing those things that feed our souls.
Regardless of our circumstances, nearly every one of us experiences this from time to time. It can feel like we are turning 180 degrees in the process, where the contrast is dramatic; from dark to light, cursed to blessed, or from a sense of ‘lack’ to being able to chomp our way through a whole box of our favourite confection (Thornton’s Continental for me please!) … A friend came up with a name to describe this phenomenon in his own life. He calls it ‘Fridge Light Syndrome’.
Our conversation about it has been bugging me this last few months, almost to the point of tapping me on the shoulder. Past experience has provided an important lesson, which is to treat this as divine guidance. It’s an attractive thought that there may be such a helpful presence as a spirit guide for bloggers. Way better, I think you’ll agree, than an irksome leprechaun trying to drive us nuts.
“What do you mean by ‘Fridge Light Syndrome’?” We curiously asked of the friend who named it, as several of us sat drinking tea in the break room. The door was tightly shut against a cacophony of noise created by drills, saws and other machines made to bully wood into one shape or another.
“Well you know when you’re around other people, you’re able to get on with things and you’re all switched on and acting and thinking normally?” he asked.
“Well, Yes (-ish)?” we all replied, probably needing to consider whether his last 2 words sat completely comfortably with ANY of us.
“Then you get home and shut the door behind you into a void of silence”, he continued. “Even if it’s something that you need, it’s like the light automatically goes out and a part of you just switches off. Like a fridge light!”
I almost joked that my fridge light hadn’t worked for months, even with the door open. That is, before witnessing everyone’s reaction.
It is in the nature of our Britishness that many of us unwittingly practice a kind of tea (or coffee) ritual, despite ‘our version’ lacking the discipline and finesse of its Japanese equivalent. The invite to share sipping time, then waiting patiently for the water to boil. Putting out of the mugs in some kind of meaningful order, cheery symbols on ceramic providing a simpler and (frankly) lazier alternative to arranging flowers for the ceremonial table.
Then there’s the process of acknowledging each and every person present by finding out their respective wishes. “Milk? Sugar? Salted caramel and pecan nut pretzel with extra sprinkles?” …. The process has a reassuring and familiar kind of flow. Whether responding to good news, providing comfort on a bad day, attempting to curtail an overwhelming need to curl back into sleep mode on whichever surface happens to be closest, or just for the sheer sake of it. “Would you like a cuppa?” seems to cover it all.
On this particular day, a strong sense of epiphany and common understanding necessitated extra time away from our woodworking projects and ‘busyness’, in order to acknowledge our collective truth; a group of resourceful, intelligent, kind-hearted singletons who hadn’t intended to be.
‘Hadn’t intended to be what?’ you ask. Solo fridge owners, of course! We probably found ourselves wishing that those all-too-important lights could remain switched on, even with the doors closed. LEDs would be essential of course, otherwise the contents would be terribly spoiled.
This is, no doubt, one reason that people stay in relationships, even when things are going wrong. And perhaps why we otherwise allow ourselves to get ‘lost’ somehow; merging into the lives and expectations of everyone around us. It’s often a much more comfortable alternative ‘state of being’ to have this kind of ongoing distraction. Until, that is, you wake up one day and realise that you feel as sharp as a well-dunked ginger biscuit. And your dreams seem to have self-imploded. About time for that reset button! … Wait there…. Where’s the manual?
Having company can be so wonderful. If you’re lucky, there’s a kind of mutual basecamp to retreat to for much needed rest, recuperation and support. We return to our respective treks up our very different metaphorical ‘mountains’ feeling all the better for it. All those helpful and kind things we like to do for people we care about are so very worthwhile when our efforts are met with a smile, a “Thank you”, a “Sorry I couldn’t be there for you today” or a hug. Just some small sign of appreciation in recognition of our efforts. As a result, that thump-thump-thudding soundtrack emanating from behind closed doors becomes less intrusive, those urgent bathroom breaks can comfortably wait a little longer and tidying up someone else’s mess is simply a form of moving meditation that I shall rename ‘Slow walk to Birmingham’. Getting to China at those speeds is wholly unrealistic.
So where does it go wrong? Is it about luck, or opportunity or giving up too soon maybe? Whatever the answer, a perfect balance is hard to achieve in a modern society when ‘do your best’, ‘work your hardest’ or ‘keep calm and carry on’ are all incredibly unhelpful mantras, not giving much value to those all-important relationships that feed our souls. And feeling cr** doesn’t make some of us the easiest kind of people to live with.
Today, I rode a path less travelled. Some years ago, I stumbled upon a hidden route through a natural oasis of calm, where now, a stony path has been laid to make the way more accessible, albeit still quite secretive. Bordered on either side by acres of bushes, orchard-like trees and long grasses open to the sky, the pathway rises up to where it hugs and weaves around the trunks of tall woodland trees, the ground carpeted with daffodils and the vast canopy above echoing with birdsong …. Soon those daffodils will flower, then give way to bluebells. But for now, even the solitary open bell of yellow is worth the inconvenience of an almost impassable section of pathway deeply rutted with mud from that all too frequent rainfall. Every time I enter this place, I’m transported to somewhere far more exotic than our frantically busy city. It’s a place where you can forget yourself in a very short space of time.
A couple of dog walkers engrossed in conversation looked up in friendly acknowledgment and something occured to me in that moment. There seems to be a universal truth that dog walkers are generally blessed with more than their fair share of ‘warm fuzzies’, as evidenced by smiles that reach up to their eyes and seemingly well beyond! Many of them seem to have grasped that elusive sense of happiness, in the process of liking and caring for the animals that take them for their daily walks. It makes me want to become part of their community, just to be able to talk the same language. I don’t mean to ‘dis’ the world of cats, it’s just that theirs is a more private affair and some of us need to get out and make more connections!
To return to the usual riverside path requires a short and steepish downward run next to a huge expanse of allotments with gorgeous views of the river valley trees, the university and town centre towers beyond. I love to take a detour across a flat expanse of red sand whose intended purpose has eluded most of us for years, but which provides a welcome contrast for anyone short of travel opportunities. For the briefest of moments, it is deceptively like riding across a beach with the tide out. Welcome to Birmingham!
Sitting in my office as daylight fades, the most regal of my feline friends has taken to sitting next to me on the oh-so-warm computer case. It is now sporting a fur coat of its own. By way of easy company, essential on unwell days like these, he responds to being fussed, emitting a deep and ‘rumbly’ purr, adorably suited to the mini-lion that he has become. The illusion is soon shattered when he jumps down, emitting a burble and a high pitched squeak and disappears to wherever cats go, as is their way. Shortly afterwards, another cat arrives, plaintively miaowing until spoken to, then whining pitifully until given time-consuming attention. As she settles down close by, a third visitor starts playing in the cat litter, using 2 litter boxes in succession and creating a delightful aroma necessitating urgent action. Before long, she starts flicking a piece of paper repetitively and noisily until my attention is turned there too. These wiley cats just won’t let me be.
Maybe they know best!
Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened – Anatole France
Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea – Robert A. Heinlein
No amount of time can erase the memory of a good cat, and no amount of masking tape can ever totally remove his fur from your couch – Leo Dworken
Loved it yet again xx