Shelter

My husband and I talked this morning of the fact that we are, at this time, operating in very different spaces. Whilst his preoccupations are of the external kind - macro economics, the election and its aftermath and various individual businesses and their growth - my preoccupations continue to be the well being of the family as a whole, individuals within that family and my own personal and very private pursuits to write and explore the world and my inner world through writing.

To give you an example, I attended a writers' festival yesterday and just revelled in that world of ideas. I won't go into it in this post, but perhaps the next, of the polar opposite views of writers from one session to the next. It is the sort of exhilarating experience that I can usually share with my husband in detail over lunch or something, but he feels so locked away in his own thoughts that I feel that at this time I should keep them to myself.

His predisposition is to share his views with me on nearly everything and I listen. I confess, it is sometimes with only one ear. I recognize his need and want to take life seriously and that he carries around with him a good deal of stress. I accept that as part of his nature, style and responsibilities.

There are times when I feel helpless. I attend to the house, to preparing a lovely meal each evening, to fulfilling the children's needs and to keeping his life running as smoothly as I can. I bottle up my frustrations, simmer them down onto the lowest possible level and just contain my world into its smallest entity. I batten down the hatches, so to speak, until this wild storm is over and his world view has mellowed and the stress has dissipated.

I am currently reading a book entitled 'Ego and Soul' as I work towards letting go of my ego. I contain my emotions as best I know how and search to find my inner strength. It is not always easy. My natural inclination is to search for the joy in life - to reach out to life and grab it with both hands in a personally victorious sort of way - and right now this containment feels sad.

I try to remind my husband of the fun we had - and there was just as much stress back then really as there is now. He sees the point. He tries to reach out for it but just can't quite get there right now. I see the upset in his eyes - a sense of itchiness, worry and tenseness - and I worry for him and about him. It is as if he has started to hold his breath and is running out of air.

I remember once when I had begun to do that. The situation was so difficult for me and I wondered how long I could go on. And, with no fanfare or preparation at all I received a phone call telling me of good news:

"Are you telling me it's over?" I asked.

"Yes, it is over," he said.

And, one day this will be over and then we will breathe easy again, too.

We all have our challenges in life. Two writers yesterday of a similar age watched their son's die in their arms. Sorrow abounds. Yet, their vibrancy for life lives on. They gave a great deal to their audiences yesterday alone.

There are sad times. There are happy times. Life goes on. Our challenge is to never give up on life. This too shall pass.