Spacious Solidarity Blog: Day 45

I wake to the distinct sound of cawing, harsh and continuous. It’s a murder of crows perched in the tall plane tree in my neighbor’s back garden. There are at least a dozen of them gathered there.

It’s hard not to imagine that they are plotting to overthrow us. Scenes from Alfred Hitchcock’s Birds flash through my mind. I decide that’s not how I want to start my day and turn my attention to the cup of coffee that’s just arrived in my hands.

It’s a quick meditation this morning as we’ve both got early Zoom mtgs. Before jumping on mine I decide to make myself a smoothie. I call it the green monster. It’s got:

Half an avocado

A kiwi

An apple

A handful of kale

The juice from half a lime

Ground flax seed

Protein powder

A cup of apple juice

And it’s delicious. I nurse it throughout my mtg, the first half of a three-hour mtg which carries on into the early afternoon, after an hour’s lunch break.

I’m not feeling great, a bit nauseous and head-achy. During the break I decide to lie down on my plush white rug in the centre of my front room. I’m stretching my legs in the air when all of a sudden I see a man looking at me from just outside the window.

He’s stood on our front doorstep. I jump to my feet, go straight to the window, and give him a questioning look. He immediately starts shaking his head and apologizing that he must have the wrong house.

He’s not a delivery man. No uniform or packages. Not a Jehovah’s Witness, no suit or Bible. He’s not fundraising or doing a survey, no clipboard or paperwork. He seems lost and confused, but also a bit unhinged. My hackles go up.

I watch him walk away and stumble into my next-door neighbor’s front garden. I can’t see what he’s doing cause there’s bushes in the way. I keep my eyes on him as best I can. After a couple of minutes he wanders off.

I’ve noticed a lot of people, mostly men, on their own in the parks and on the streets, often drinking. The seem listless and vulnerable, but I am also wary of them. As a queer woman, I rarely experience city streets as safe spaces, and now they are feeling less safe than ever.

So as I walk past I try to hold them in my heart, open to their suffering, wish them well, while also keeping a safe distance and maintaining an energetic boundary. Almost every time we go out for our daily walk now is an opportunity to do this practice.

And today is no exception. I’ve been wanting to check out the West Hackney Recreation Ground, which is a small park just behind St. Paul’s Church on the corner of our road and the high street. I’ve passed it countless times, but never bothered to stop and have a look around.

The area served as a local burial ground from 1824-1879, before being closed and falling into disuse. It had been surrounded by farmland, but urban sprawl led to the development of Hackney, and the need for more outdoor space for its residents.

After successful lobbying by locals for the area to be turned into a park, the first British female professional landscaper, Fanny Wilkinson took on its design. It was opened in 1885.

As we enter the park we immediately notice that it is mostly full of men on their own. Some of them are eating. My partner comments that there is a homeless programme running out of the church that gives away free meals.

There is also a young family, two adults and two little girls, and a couple of very old ladies sat on a bench at a safe distance from each other, chatting.

Tall gravestones line the perimeter of the park, surrounding its main feature; a stone labyrinth.

We both walk the labyrinth while the pair of sisters circle us, the elder on her bike being chased by the younger, who is running behind her donning a silver tiara.

She’s shouting, “Catch that girl!”

Their parents are calling to them from the other end of the park. It’s time to go but the girls ignore them. They keep circling.

At one point the younger one runs right across the labyrinth.

I revel in that kind of unbridled disregard for the sacred that only children can get away with.

I love labyrinths. There’s something deeply mysterious about the role they’ve played for thousands of years in spiritual traditions that span the globe.

They say when you enter the labyrinth you don’t know what you’re going to find at the centre: a monster or a god.

It’s a walk of faith, a willingness to move in whatever direction the path takes you, even when it feels like you’re getting further from the centre. A willingness to meet whatever is waiting for you at its heart.

It’s meant to be taken slowly, allowing any and all thoughts, emotions, images or memories to arise in the mind. All are considered significant and to be paid close attention to.

Interestingly, the last time I walked a labyrinth was when I was meeting in person with the same group I met with today on Zoom. That was last summer at a Catholic retreat centre in Crewe.

The head priest had just finished building it and was incredibly proud of his work. There were leaflets in all the rooms with information about it, the design and materials he’d used and how best to walk it.

Being raised Catholic, I found it slightly odd. As far as I know, labyrinths are not part of the Catholic tradition.

When we were kids our parents tried to keep us from watching the cult classic Labyrinth with Jennifer Connelly and David Bowie.

Besides it being about a labyrinth, I think my mother also didn’t like how much David Bowie’s pants revealed of his well-endowed physique. Somehow we managed to watch it anyway.

I love every minute of that film, especially how great Bowie looks in those pants. Not to mention the special effects, make-up, costumes, and Jennifer Connelly, especially when she finally asserts her power over the Goblin King.

We tool around the rest of the park, seeing what we can see and then head home again, as we need to eat dinner before my partner’s got to be on Zoom with a counseling client.

I eat leftover pasta for dinner and spend the rest of the evening writing and watching a couple of more episodes of Good Girls. It’s a bit too predictable for me and I’m not sure I like the characters enough to keep watching.

Meanwhile, my partner’s finished their client work and has drawn a bath. I get in after them, the water still warm and the suds still bubbly.

I get into bed with silky skin and a feeling of warmth from the inside out.