It was a rainy weekend, and I was standing in front of the open pantry feeling snacky.
When I saw a pantry moth fly out.
I’ve had them before.
There’s never just one.
And so I decided to get rid of the open packets they breed in.
In truth, the pantry was overdue for a clear-out.
My partner is one of those shoppers who likes to buy in bulk.
He’s also the kind of shopper who doesn’t check what we already have before buying more.
In Covid times, his stockpiling was vindicated, but now I feel it’s bordering on hoarding.
I’m a minimalist, and he’s a maximalist, so this is an endless source of comedy in our house.
Anyway, as I was removing everything from the pantry to find where these moths might be, I counted five jars of capers.
Now I can’t tell you the last time I ate capers.
But it wasn’t this decade.
As I was sorting through the various tins and jars, I looked at the jar of dill pickles (which we also don’t eat) and saw a best-before date of January 2020.
As I looked at those pickles, I thought to myself, “Me too, pickles.”
I was best before 2020, too.
It’s not about getting older.
Ageing is the LEAST of my problems.
Life seemed so much simpler before 2020.
Something’s shifted.
People are more restless. More frazzled. More exhausted than I can remember.
Sensitive types can feel it in their nervous system. It’s a crackling electricity, like something is always about to snap.
The world pulls our attention in all directions.
We’re close to nervous system saturation.
And if we don’t have daily practices to calm ourselves in these heightened times of uncertainty, then current events and the collective consciousness will swamp us.
They will shape our mood before we’ve even had our morning coffee.
Just treading water and staying on top of everything feels harder than ever.
I’m not going to go into the cause of this, as it’s complex and nuanced.
But I know that we can no longer wash away the stress with a few drinks on a Friday night and think that will do the trick.
Our nervous systems and mental state require more support than ever.
Stress is accelerating. And it’s taking more effort to cope.
I know it can be hard to carve out the time for self-care.
It seems indulgent. Selfish.
It can seem unproductive.
It’s not glamorous or fun either.
And often, when we do take time to relax and be with ourselves, our minds give us a hard time.
That’s why coming to class matters.
Yes, you can do yoga at home.
You can roll out a mat in the lounge room.
You can follow something on YouTube.
But can you really unplug for an hour?
No checking your phone halfway through.
No pausing to answer a message.
No wandering off to put a load of washing on.
And yes, you can read a book instead.
But how many times do you have to reread the same page because your mind is somewhere else? Or is it just me?
Attending class is different.
It’s one of the few spaces left where you’re not reachable.
An hour where your phone is away and no one needs anything from you.
You just turn up.
You breathe.
You let your nervous system turn down a notch.
You don’t have to do the whole class; in fact, you’re welcome to lie down and rest if that’s what you need.
But it’s an hour to unplug and free yourself from constant stimulation.
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