The Not Yet Place
It is as though people glow, their aura radiating delight on hot summer days. Today, the sunshine is in my bones, healing the long dark shadows of lockdown.
My mind is busy reflecting, contemplating on the phrase that a wise friend coined ‘the Not Yet Place’, a destination that I am reaching to but have not yet arrived. I am still uncertain as to where that destination is but an inkling is bubbling.
A move is inevitable. I have extended my time here in Ballydehob due to my lease ending several months ago. It was a good choice to live out lockdown in a lockdown bubble with my friend but now it is time to pack up my story satchel and move one . Moreover, moving is much more than the physical movement from one place to another, it can be as in my case, the desire to embrace a maturing of personality and the desire to step out of old shoes into new.
As I reflect my feet sinking into the grass, the mere action comforting my bones, the fretful comments of a friend bustles in my mind. The idea of a move to the Not Yet Place did not bode well with her. She desires that I should settle down, ‘after all you are getting on’ she remarked! I understand her words were well intentioned but I was hit by frustration with a dash of irritation. Unfortunately, after many years of knowing me she still doesn’t quite get me. Furthermore, there is the likelihood that she is transferring her fear of ‘alone’ and aging on to me.
From my own personal lived experience I have deduced that many people often self-talk old. They have been shaped by the old age expectation narratives of today. At this point, I have to emphasis that there are people who are physically challenged both old and young and it is not my objective to thrust huge boulders of guilt at them. They are the brave people of this world, navigating ill health daily and often with much pain. I am in awe to each and every one of them. We are all different, each with different physical capabilities and temperaments. I have no right to coerce my values on to other and I expect mutual reciprocations. So, my lament is to those who are in good health.
Let me tell you a true story, some time ago I broke my foot I was met with an onslaught of commentaries telling me that I ought to be very careful because my bones may be brittle because of my age. I was sixty at the time. After five weeks of hobbling about, and travelling a fair distance to my hairdresser and once to perform a live gig I was aware of the wide open disapproving eyes that I attempted to travel . A memory is making me smile, on one occasion I hopped down the steps and off the bus with crutches in hand. I was only too grateful that I can still hop. . In any case, the consultant informed me that my foot had healed and perfectly well that there was no need for me to undergo physio. I believe the bottle milk sourced from the local farm and my daily spoonful of Cod Liver Oil assisted recovery. The whole experience informed me that I could cope with a broken foot and I was delighted to know that I could. If I sat at home concerned about brittle bones I would have needlessly caused myself stress and it would have been a waste of time because it did not transpire.
My attitude comes from spending time with a group of women called The Raging Grannies away back in my bygone days of the 80s. The Raging Grannies are a group of social justice and anti-war activists who dress up in clothes that mock stereotypes of older women. This group of Elders told stories of the discrimination that they faced and the expections put upon them and they threw me visionary ropes to clutch and I gripped onto their values. They allowed me to see a different worldview from that of my home town. At this point I have to say that it is so important to meet people who have differing outlooks in order to challenge the community and cultural narrative one is born into.
As I sit, the sun soothing my weary bones, excitement is upon me. I am looking forward to The Not Yet Place. I have made application for a twelve week course on sequential art. I was invited to a presentation about the course and instantly knew I wanted to do it. It excites me. The thought of being able to use the equipment in an animation studio makes my heart bounce. I may not be successful in my attempt because there is an application process but at least I have giving it a shot. I can do nothing more.
I can only live for today and if in the future I become sick or infirm, I will have no option but to deal with it but for now I step into unravelling my next destination. I can’t live my life in fear of what may or may not be. I so desire to be with people who love the world of comics and zines. I want to embrace ‘zine’ energy and learn new concepts and pass on mine. Sadly, I have this sense that I may be limiting my oral storytelling but I want to stay rooted in this tribe of wonderful aspirational people and of course I will still spin a tale or two. I have been so blessed by knowing them, they walked into my path at one of my lowest periods in life, welcoming me in.
Living safe, in my opinion has its thorns, and in doing so perhaps we lose courage and an adventurous heart. One thing lockdown taught me, is that I value solitude and my own company. It is in those moments that my imagination works creating stories and colourful characters. I have walked free from the oppressive mantra that espousing alone means shyness or aloofness. One must be coerced from their shell. I am not a charismatic person, I never have been and probably never will be. I have no fear of missing out. And yes I do appreciate the company of others.
Life as a pilgrim traveller excites me and in times gone by there were people who actually lived like this, moving from one place to another and it was seen as a viable lifestyle. Unfortunately, society has changed and one strand is that people are expected to ‘brand’ themselves in an expected way and I believe that this excludes the pilgrim traveller.
My eyes catch the flaming red that is on my legs. Despite it being mid-morning and I am sheltered under a tree I have succumbed to the sun. I am drenched in sun block and have to state I am surprised by the patches of crimson. Perhaps, my skin is in solidarity and is changing to align with me. Anyway, I t is time to go home but the story continues.
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