Tinderbox Times blog - Day 1

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

Tomorrow we go back into a national lockdown. We knew this day would come. What we didn’t anticipate was the convergence with the US presidential election.

In the same week we’re right back where we were in mid-March while the fate of the world hangs in the balance. Will it be more fascism, polarisation, kids in cages, environmental degradation, and on and on in that same vein or shall we try for something a little bit saner? Biden and Harris aren’t the answer to our prayers, but the alternative is unimaginable.

We moved house on October 16th. The walls were closing in on us in our one bedroom flat on Evering Road. With both of us working from home, we longed for more space and a garden. We’ve landed in Muswell Hill, just a bit further north, but still in London.

We’re in a two-bedroom house at the end of the terraces at the end of the road backing onto a parkland walk that takes you to Highgate wood if you turn right, Alexander Palace if you turn left. A whole new part of London to explore.

In the run-up to the election I’ve distracted myself with full-on home making. Arranging and re-arranging our lounge a dozen times, hemming and hawing over where to hang this picture, that mirror. I’ve had to buy more furniture than anticipated, side tables and plant stands and a cupboard for the bathroom, which I built myself. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the welcome distraction.

So today I sit in my fully furnished, well decorated lounge, nothing more to distract myself with, holding my breath with the rest of humanity. Waiting.

They are saying we most likely won’t have the results of the election for days, possibly weeks. 98 million people have already voted by mail but because each state deals with mail-in ballots differently, they won’t all be counted by election day.

They are predicting that most democrats will have voted by mail, most republicans in person. The implications of this scare the shit out of me. It means that early predictions based on in person voting could lean towards the incumbent, giving him the leverage he needs to claim a premature victory.

No matter what happens, everyone is bracing for violence. White nationalists are threatening chaos if their candidate loses. Progressives promising protest if it looks like the current president isn’t going to concede, even if it’s clear he’s lost.

As I write that I realise I could be writing about any of the Latin American countries’ elections that the US has meddled with for decades. What do you call it? Oh yeah, poetic justice.

I take a deep breath. Immediately I locate discomfort in the belly. A deep, sinking feeling I often associate with dread. I drop the awareness into the sensations. Sinking, sinking, heavy, dropping. A lead balloon sat in my belly, rolling around without a care in the world.

I take another breath. On the out-breath I remember the power of blessings. That I am blessed, we are blessed. Just to be able to breath and notice is a blessing, no matter how painful the noticing.

I breath again. This time imagining the breath moving from the top of my skull to the tip of my toes and back again. I tune into the sensations of the life force coursing through my body. I remember when I was deeply depressed in my early 20s.

In one particularly dark moment I tried to wish my life force away. I experimented with what might happen if I simply decided to stop breathing.

Nothing happened. I kept on breathing.

I breath out a prayer for all those who are feeling at the end of their rope. May they find solace in themselves, their connection with others, their faith in something bigger, mysterious, unknown. May they find hope, hope that the future they imagine may still manifest, somehow, somehow.

Another in breath, this time aware of my heart centre and the gentle pulsing of blood flowing outward in all directions. I whisper to myself something I desperately want to believe, “It’s Ok.”

And it is ok. It is all absolutely ok. In a world where things are so unapologetically out of balance, there is still an ok-ness that can be felt here and now. An ok-ness that cannot be taken away or diminished by the chaos. This ok-ness is my blessing, my strength, and what I can come back to again and again.

And you. I can also come back to you.