Saturday, 8 August, 2020
I had this little email conversation with my brother, John. He says he doesn’t have much anxiety about this crisis and, if it goes on another year he won’t mind too much. (Total paraphrase so forgive me, John.)
I can weather it, I know I can. However, John and I have very different circumstances. He lives in the Southern California suburbs, where pedestrians are few, houses are detached and at the end of their personal driveways, supermarkets are enormous barn-like affairs, his wife Liz sleeps into the mid morning while he is up with the lark for some alone time, they each have a car, and they live in a five bedroom house, with two bathrooms and two living rooms, and a front and back garden.
I think I could have less anxiety there, despite my surburbiphobia! Instead I live in a congested city where even in zone 2 I rarely see no one outside my window, on the top floor of a terraced house which houses four sets of tenants. There’s no access to the garden and the scrap of front yard is the entrance to the lower floor flat. There’s no car but several busy buses and trains. We have two rooms – the bedroom and living room and we are home all day together.
So, as the title says, wandering is mostly in my mind. And, yes, my mind wanders. Like the time I was in the streetcar in Toronto and looked up for a minute, completely confused about where I was and where I was going. Scared me. The doctor said, it happens. And it’s only rarely happened since.
My mind can also wander to all sorts of fabulous and frightening things. I’m switching from full doom to full ‘rosy outlook’ mode, but mostly settling in between – things are and will be different. That’s the way of the world. It’s just a bit more surreal than usual, that’s all.
But I do physically wander on the days I’m not worried so much about it. My friend Susanne has used #walkablecity #walkableneighbourhood on her Instagram account and I am really grateful that I can echo that sentiment. Continue reading “Wandering is mostly in my mind”