I wake up to the pleasure of a sea view. For the last couple of days I have been able to make out the silhouette of a cruise ship half way in from the horizon. What do they see when they look onto our shoreline? Do they even have a view? Are they perhaps isolated to their cabins? Floating in a potentially exiled viral incubator; imagine the fear; imagine the isolation.
I am suddenly struck by the privilege of spaciousness. The freedom I have within my confines. I moved my “office” up onto our bedroom balcony. I want to at least feel like I have some sort of “outlook” on things as I try and talk my client’s through their own experiences.
I take a look through the scope. It is definitely a cruise ship. But the seas are so rough today, it is hard to make out the name of the ship. It feels like the sea’s turbulence is telling a story. It tells of the fears within me I am trying to hide. No matter how much space I have to move within, fear will narrow down my consciousness. It will leave me feeling cramped and optionless. I need to keep the mental room to manoeuvre. The first deaths are reported. I know I must try and embrace what is ahead of us. I tried not to read too much today. There is only so much anticipating I can do. I close my eyes and listen to the wind. I take a sip of my morning coffee. This moment is a privilege in an otherwise difficult day.