I’m finding dealing with the global pandemic fallout difficult. The idea that I’m living through a challenging historical event repeats in my brain like The Smiths song ‘Cemetery Gates’. These uncertain times have often made me anxious. I’m aware this is a global feeling.
My mother suggested this morning that sometimes it feels like we’re in the eye of the storm. It can be hard to gain perspective and stability during a major event such as a global pandemic or a war. Usual day-to-day life offers a sense of control (and brightly lit distractions) that can make us disregard inner grief or trauma. Now with our workplaces closed, our schools empty and our streets quiet, our inner landscapes noisily demand attention.
I’ve decided to get away from the apocalyptic news and walk with my anxiety in nearby Karori Cemetery, the second largest burial ground in New Zealand. I value the air of introspectiveness and calm it holds. I’ve learnt a lot about myself on these walks and have come to appreciate the solace. It seems impossible not to reflect on living while walking past rows of those who lived. As the Smiths song goes:
“So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
All those people, all those lives
Where are they now?
With loves, and hates
And passions just like mine
They were born
And then they lived
And then they died…”
My mother and I walk for an hour each day and have begun to seek out headstones of those who served our country in war. Most are marked with a service cross or an ANZAC poppy on their headstone (see below). We now have an eye for spotting these signs, taking photos of these graves as we come across them. Later in the evening, we match the names and dates to upload our headstone images to the Cenotaph, the Auckland War memorial online public database of those who served.
While this little project is in its infancy, we’ve already found this process to be cathartic. Our state-sanctioned walk has developed into us doing our little bit for New Zealand war history. Cenotaph contains a wealth of information for people looking to understand New Zealand’s war stories and family histories. Many of the people that died during the wars were young single men. Without a family to succeed them, their graves can be unattended to, and their online record minimal. Placing a physical headstone into the ephemeral digital world fleshes out the reality that under this name and service number was a person that lived and died.
It is through history that we can learn about the present. We know that the fallout from a pandemic mirrors that of a world war. I am finding a way to quell my anxiety through understanding that in the eye of such a storm, we can take small actions to regain perspective. Adding to, and connecting with a digital community of the past though my daily walks helps me to understand where I am now. It inspires me to keep connecting with both my inner world as well as that of my online support communities: together we can keep calm and carry on.
I really love the sentimentality of this post as it captures the reality that we are living in a changing age. Isolation is wartime mentality and the fact we face an enemy that is faceless and formless gives a new definition to, “Cold War”. Cold because we are waiting for attack without the ability to defend ourselves. I resonate strongly with, “keep calm and carry on” because it outlines the simple virtue of the inner strength that is needed for the mental challenge of isolation. The online community allows us to reclaim small luxuries of normality and that is an aspect that is grossly taken for granted in day to day life. Conflict makes one think and evaluate who we are and what is close to using, and it’s those small victories that push us towards the light at the end of the tunnel.
I often wonder what got my great nan and grandad through the war and sheltering in train tunnels night after night during the war would have been a mentally eroding experience. Funnily enough, Napoleon called the British, “a nation of shop keepers”, it adds pleasantness to the words, “business as usual”. Although I’m assuming, neither of us is the offspring of shop keepers, words like that bring me comfort in these times because of it another way of saying, “One step at a time”. A bland line that guards one against the fear of unknown odds.
Gravestones summarise one’s life in a very linear way so it’s easy to forget their human significance. I couldn’t imagine being defined by a name, date, and number which is probably why I want to be cremated. Though headstones really do make you wonder about another’s history. I don’t know if you’ve explored Grafton graveyards but those graves are some of the oldest in New Zealand’s. Old families with common English last names, sometimes when I’m exploring down there I’ll count the number of people I know with that last name. A sardonic amusement I suppose since New Zealand is so small and there is nothing more frightful then having my soul forgotten in a stone tomb under that ghastly bridge.
I suppose war time mentalities really does make us appreciate the small luxuries we have like our state-sanctioned walks. A fantastic movie to watch is the Pianist, a movie set in the Polish ghetto that really captures the humanity of an individual in wartime. Nazis and COVID 19 are two kettles of fish of course, but that movie, like your post, teaches one to appreciate their life. I hope you are faring well my dear, I always look to this quote when the world is looking bleak. “Through passion, we gain strength. Through strength, we gain power. Through power, we gain victory”. Who knew Star Wars could offer so much life advice? Best wishes Ruby and chin up. 🙂
This was so simply and beautifully put! I think its times like these that have the ability to further connect us to our immediate surroundings. We don’t often consider times like these very positive or productive, but I think we tend to underestimate the little things. Whether its learning more about ourselves, connecting with the people in our bubbles, finding new ways to connect through technology or finding new pockets in the environments surrounding us, I find it comforting to know that we all have our own special take-aways from times like these.
The eye of a storm is an thought-provoking image. New Zealand feels relatively safe amid the turmoil and figurative dark clouds of the rest of the world. More locally, even though we know bad things are happening a little ways out, the day-to-day is much more peaceful than it was when we were around other people. Anecdotes say that the patch of tranquility in a storm has almost no breeeze, as if the presence of the storm has made that specific spot paradoxically less windy. I think the analogy of the storm’s eye is grounding; just because everything feels like it’s swirling around you, there’s no reason why you can’t remain calm.