My husband and I ring the church bells at an ancient Scottish cathedral. (The six bells there are hung so that their ropes fall in a circle and can be made to sound in mathematical sequences known as "change ringing.") My husband is the "steeplekeeper," in charge of making sure that the bells and their fixtures are in sound condition. Although all bell ringing stopped during the first pandemic lockdown of 2020, we made a trip to the cathedral in June 2020 to check that all was well in the bell tower - mainly a matter of looking for unwanted birds' nests among the bells. The churchyard had been locked up against visitors (the cathedral is a historic monument) and when we arrived, the usually well-groomed lawn was a sea of long grass. It seemed eerie and otherworldly - as if the cathedral and all its life had slipped into an enchanted sleep like the briar wood of Sleeping Beauty. But the heart of our Church of Scotland (Presbyterian) community is really its minister, and he had very effectively moved his services online, integrating live appearances in the church with recordings that the choir made via Zoom. He's done this all year, holding his community together and receiving more online views than he ever had church attendance! My husband and I are not really churchgoers, though in happier times we ring for the service every Sunday, and for weddings all year. This year, when our lockdown eased, we began Sunday ringing again with socially distanced measures in place. And - perhaps because it was such an effort making a 30 mile round-trip to the cathedral and ringing for only twenty minutes - we started attending the socially-distanced church services. This hour-long pause among other people in a long slog of frantic routine with limited contacts seemed an affirmation of life and the spirit of humanity. It helps that our minister preaches a very good sermon, full of humour and a sense of connection to the world. I still keep my spirituality very private, but I realize how much I miss - and really enjoy - that PAUSE, the moment when you can put everything else aside to look inward and upward. Now we are in another hard lockdown. The cathedral was shut for services just before Christmas. The last time the cathedral was used in practice was when my husband and I, with another bell-ringing couple, pealed out the old bells for twenty minutes on Christmas morning: an affirmation of the human spirit and our connection to God. When the current lockdown ends, we will ring the bells again.
January 24, 2021
Me da mucha ansiedad y malestar ver tantas personas a mi alrededor que no respetan las distancias como antes. Desde que se levantó la cuarentena obligatoria parece que todos se tomaron muy a pecho la vuelta a la "nueva normalidad" y no respetan nada, ni los carteles en los locales que piden una restricción de personas adentro, y ni hablar del espacio personal; me ha pasado que me saluden con un beso de mejilla casi a la fuerza a pesar de no mostrar indicios de querer retirarme el barbijo para ellos, me saludan con el barbijo de por medio y todo ¿Es tan difícil respetar mi decisión de seguir manteniendo distancias? No es obligatorio volver a lo de antes como si el covid19 jamás hubiera existido. Todavía está ahí, y mi mamá es de riesgo. Por favor, permítanme cuidarme y cuidarla! No es tan difícil, ignorenme si es necesario.
March 23, 2021