"I suppose many people believe there is nothing good to say about a lockdown.

It is understandable. I have not been out except to doctors and hospitals since
March. In March, I came close to death. I guess that gives you a whole new
perspective on life and living, so I'll share some things that I experience daily.
Every day I find something to appreciate, something deeply satisfying and
comforting. Things I never noticed before or at least not to the extent that I
notice them now."
The Lockdown

First, of all, I am deeply grateful for life itself. Every morning I open my eyes and see the daylight I am
filled with a deep appreciation. I look forward to the day ahead. I am not always well, but as I say to my
husband, if I felt well, I'd think there was something wrong with me; but that's okay. This, too, shall pass.
I breathe deeply before I get out of bed. Concentrating on my breath, noticing, and relaxing each part of
my body. I remember mornings, jumping out of bed, to go to work always, having the alarm on snooze,
to squeeze the last minute of precious sleep before I had to jump out. Getting up at 3:00 am to head to
the airport. And heading off to play music in some part of the world or other. I loved those days and the
laughs we had. I was lucky to have the career I had, but it was hectic, to say the least.
I have so many memories to look back on and memories to call on. As I sit in meditation, I am doing
nothing at all, yet simultaneously doing so much. I am grateful, I connect deeply with loved ones who
have passed on; breathing quietly, deeply until the memories come and fill my mind. The humorous
ones, the sorrowful, the childhood memories; the births of my children, the hard times I managed to
overcome. The time I realised I was not in control of life, and that there is no such thing as a "normal"
year. It is like pictures streaming through my mind; washing over me like warm water, permeating every
part of my body and mind, and it feels as real as when it was happening.

I look forward to the day ahead.

Over the lockdown, I have got to know my mother in a new way. We have long chats on the phone. She
talks of many things that happened to her in her life that I knew nothing about. When she was a child
through her teenage years, to when she moved to Chicago with my dad; I found myself listening intently
and with a deep curiosity. Some so poignant and some ridiculously comical when we both laugh. I am in
awe of how strong she was and is... Living alone at 86, she is taking on this lockdown with the strength of
10 women. Yes, it gets her down, of course, it does, but she always finds a way to get back up and live
her best another day; always thinking of others and how she might help them. Her children are still her
babies, and she cares for us all deeply.

Almond slices. I have become addicted to almond slices. Sean buys them for me, and every single one is
a treat. I make a cup of coffee slowly and with care, the aroma filling my nose and the dark brown liquid
filling the cup. I have been addicted to coffee forever. I look at the almond slice on the plate—the shape
of it, the flaky pastry, the almonds on top, anticipating the taste. Sometimes I think the anticipation is
the best part of everything. I at last lift it to my mouth and bite, chewing slowly, tasting its sweetness and
the taste of the almonds. Almond slices. Who knew?
This week I've spent significant time just gazing out of the window. We are lucky to have many trees
across the road and lining the street I live on. It is delightful to look at all the changing colours of the
leaves, daily I seem to discover a new one. Sometimes it rains, and the skies are grey, but that simply
makes the leaves brighter and more colourful wonder when the last time was that I regarded leaves in
this way?

" I am taking the best from this; for this too shall pass".
My children call when they can, or phone to tell me they love me. I can't see them as often as I would
like, but I can breathe in and feel their love filling me. A short time ago, I taught some children
mindfulness. They were so interested, so curious and soaked everything up like sponges. They even
learned parts of the limbic system in the brain and how they work. The hypothalamus somehow got the
name "Hippy Thomas". I can't get this picture out of my head of this hippy guy lying there in my brain,
saying "hey man just keeping it cool". I guess I revert to being a child when I'm with children, but that's
okay. I miss the children I have for music, and when all this is over, I look forward to seeing them. Again,
anticipation is a beautiful thing.

Sean kisses me good morning and tells me he loves me; we have several hugs during the day, and
despite spending so much time together, we still have so much to talk and laugh about.
I am calm, content and I feel loved, and if there's anything more important than that. I don't know what
it is...As for this new "normal", I don't know what that means. I don't think I ever had a year that was
"normal" where nothing changed, and everything remained the same. When everything seems perfect,
life often gives you a wake-up call. Each day is a reminder to live with a genuine attitude of gratitude. To
be grateful for the little things.

I don't know how this whole thing is going to go, but I am blessed, I am contented, I am fortunate. I am
happy. I am taking the best from this; for this too shall pass.