Six weeks ago I took the decision to disconnect. I was struggling with the coronavirus situation and my frustrated venture into the arena of political commentary and activism was having a detrimental impact upon my well-being.
As les vièrs Jèrriais say, nou n’peut empêchi la mé d’monter, one is unable to prevent the tide from rising. As well as the common English interpretation of this saying, time and tide wait for no man, the diton may also be applied to the feelings of anger and impotence that stem from fighting a losing battle.
I needed to find a healthier way through the pandemic. I wanted to channel my energy into something more positive, to find peace instead of outrage. So I turned to the arts. Instead of reading opinion pieces by epidemiologists, I loaded my Kindle with Nordic noir. I switched off the news and switched on the voices of Michelle Obama and Henning Mankell. I opened my copy of the Jersey Evening Post at the middle, focussing on features about the coast and temps passé. Rather than tuning into The World at One, I joined the vigil for Michael Rosen and listened to past episodes of Word of Mouth.
I stopped focusing on local politics and decided to look for the beauty and creativity that not’ belle île dé Jèrri has to offer. I blocked the repulsive debate on social media weighing up the value of one human life against another and instead followed the progress of local artists. Each week I tuned into ‘Going Underground’ by Simon MacDonald, wonderful snippets from the theatre I’ve been missing so much. I kept up with short story writer Dreena Collins and watched her novel word count grow, inspiring me to keep going with my own. And I dove into Marc Le Cornu’s bright blue aerial photographs of our coastline, reminding me how much natural beauty outweighs human ugliness.
There is comfort in such creativity and there is solace too in the natural world; in the rhythm of the tides, the shape of the coast and the resilience of our native wildlife. Nature is immune to the cynicism of humanity, if not untouched by its brutality. Lockdown gave temporary respite and I was grateful for space and peace outdoors, enabling connection with nature and routes into creative thought.
As the island reopens and we slip back into old habits and routines, the 32 families in mourning serve as a reminder that Jersey has not escaped the tragedy of Covid-19. Despite the uncertainty going forward, I am lucky to be counted among those who have come out of this so far unscathed. Lé pépîn d’la vie est dans l’tchoeu d’l’homme, the kernel of life is in the heart of man. It’s time to re-evaluate what is important and focus on health and happiness. This life is a gift and will be what I make it.