I often wonder what type of person I would be like when I’m really old.
Will we all have cropped short little hairdos? I find it hard to imagine, looking at our generation, that we’ll end up taking the exact same stereotypical paths of “old”. Fashions change. Although our choices when it comes to physical appearance will begin to lend themselves more towards ease and comfort regardless. Perhaps our clothing choices will likely be the same, despite how hard that might be to visualise right now. Will we reach an age where we’re forgotten about? A point where it seems futile to teach us anything new. When people assume we’ll never be able to learn how to use the latest technology. Forced into a time stood still, at some point in time when we were younger than we’ve become. Ostracised, in some ways, and made to feel like we no longer belong.
I think I’ll be a bird watcher. Nature has been one of the only constants that I’ve ever truly found peace in. Even during the lowest lows and times of utter despair. When it took me months to find a job after uni and I was living at home longing to find my way back to London I started writing poems. Hundreds of them. Most of them were based around nature. Finding patterns in the natural world to reflect the way I was feeling. Metaphors of Mother Earth helped ground me during moments when I was adrift and alone.
So, birds. I don’t think it’s a case of waiting until I’m old to like birds. I appreciate them now. The robin that came to visit me practically every day for 6 weeks after my dad died. I salute magpies when they’re solo, warding off their promise of sorrow. Jury’s out on pigeons. (I’m lying, the jury is very much in and it’s not looking good).
We actually associate birdsong with safety and serenity. I heard somewhere that birds don’t sing when predators are around. So as humans evolved over time, we made the connection. Unsurprisingly, birdsong has research-backed mental well-being benefits that can have the power to improve anxiety and depression. It warms me on the inside, thinking of myself comforted by the chirpy harmonies of these fluffy little creatures. That regardless of where I end up when I’m old, I’ll always have company.
I didn’t plan on not writing for the past 2 weeks. I was unwell for one week, my brain thick with fog that made it impossible to string a sentence together. And last week I was so busy I just could not find the time to sit down and squeeze something out before sneaking off to Stockholm for the weekend. There have been tears and a bit of wallowing too which hasn’t helped. Not sure in my right mind I’d be particularly happy having publicly shared something I’d written whilst gripped by a temporary self-worth paralysis. Think before you speak and all that.
Apart from when I felt unwell I haven’t been struggling for words. In fact, they are currently overflowing in my notes, my journals and my mind. It’s more the fear of failure that I’m struggling with. Of pushing forward and trying to elevate what I’m putting out there. It’s scary. But it’s all been so existential over the last few weeks that it’s becoming impossible to ignore.
I think it has something to do with the time of year as well. Not only have the seasons seemed to have made a drastic change jumping from frigid early spring into a balmy heatwave on the cusp of summer in a matter of days, in less than 2 weeks it will have been 2 years since my Dad died. I have found myself questioning my life, my purpose, who I am. I am reminded of the shortness of life and the inevitability of death. So, I think about who I might be in the future. The dreams and goals I have for myself. The person I might become when I am old. If I will ever get the chance to be old.
I am trying not to put any pressure on myself. If I don’t post on Drafting for two weeks, that’s fine. If I find I can’t write a single word for days, no problem. Yet, I find it hard to lean into rest and slow down without being overcome by guilt at the best of times. I am trying to allow myself the space to feel everything a little more deeply over the next few weeks. I shall try to sit with the good, the bad and the uncomfortable when it comes to my current existentialism. Pondering over the world with senses a light heightened and eyes open a little wider.