Overwhelm

Several people I’ve spoken to recently have expressed a feeling of being overwhelmed by the transition into a new year. The festivities are over, the two week hiatus in normal activity has slowed the pace, and suddenly January is on us, and everything kicks off again. Work. Groups we may be members of. Social activities. Sport. For me it’s a mixture of bands, choir, writing groups, projects, the charity I work with. Everyone, it seems, has something. And it feels unmanageable, daunting, overwhelming.

The wider world too – the same feeling writ large but with a significant difference. With our normal activities we have agency, we can make things happen, roll our sleeves up, make a difference. With the world at large, we can feel everything is beyond our control, nothing we do makes a difference, we can’t take action because ’what’s the point?’.

Of course, we can’t single handedly reverse or control climate change, stop a war, prevent genocide. But we’re not powerless. We can do things which make a difference. Small things maybe, but important ones. A lot of small actions can make a positive difference. A lack of action cannot. I’m reminded of the Edmund Burke quote – ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good [people] to do nothing’. Doing nothing is not an option. So what do we do, and why?

It seems to me that the answer is that we do what we can. What this means will differ for all of us. It might mean flying less, forgoing that cruise, recycling, using less power, walking instead of driving – any or all of those things. It might mean lobbying politicians, signing petitions, arguing, speaking truth to power, standing up to be counted. Maybe we simply reach out to help the people around us, try to increase cross cultural understanding, learn more and share more. It all makes a difference. And it all helps to stop us feeling overwhelmed and improves our mental and physical health. So, here’s to getting on with it and facing the challenges with positivity.

For the want of a nail

She sat in her normal chair
quiet, demure, self-aware
gentle smile and ordered hair
telling her grandchildren stories

fairy stories, nursery rhymes
wisdom gained over many years
familiar tales new every time
each one welcomed by infant ears

eager to hear of crooked miles
crooked sixpences and crooked stiles
of the life story of Solomon Grundy
born on Monday, buried on a Sunday

and most of all she’d never fail
to tell the story of the nail
the want of which had ramifications
spelling disaster for the nation

a large and unexpected cost
because a single nail was lost
life cycles, crooked miles, absent nails.
She sat and told the children tales.