“We're not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It's a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.” — W. Somerset Maugham. 

In the summer of 2017 I got a tattoo on my right shoulder inspired by that quote. 

I'd come across it five years prior, while waiting for my little brother to wake up from a coma. Printed on A4 paper and plastered to the wall of the neurological ward he was lying in; a reminder that he would never be the same person again. But also, neither would I. Or my parents, siblings, friends. My loved ones would all change in the coming years and what a happy chance it would be if we continued to love one another. 

Really, none of us are the same as we were pre-pandemic and certainly the world is not the same. Many of us have transformed. Many of us are also very tired. Trepidation is sat right alongside Excitement as we dare to make decisions and plans for our lives again. 

We are not the same persons this year as last.

What is it that you were hoping and planning for in the sweet innocence of 2019? Do you still want those same things? Are you still that same person? How about those you love?

As we emerge from our Covid cocoons, I wonder how we might see one another in our new-ness, in our growth and evolution, and bring love to our relationships with people, place and current circumstance?

Working with my menstrual cycle (particularly that tender inner spring energy) has shown me just how much space, grace and hope is required when transitioning into a new chapter — and a new chapter this is.

For me, this means doing my best to look at and listen to my husband with fresh eyes and ears. He’s not the same person this year as last. It means clearing out a bunch of physical things: old books, clothes, stuff that no longer brings me joy. New furniture arrangements around our home. Going the extra mile to have that in-person time with beloved friends and family after all those months apart.

The bit I’m finding the trickiest is the daily negotiation happening between the part of myself that wants to press fast-forward after such soul-crushing stagnancy, and the part that needs to move more slowly. Contracting Covid in March has ensured my 2022 pace is positively unhurried! This year is certainly not the same year as last. 

And it means sitting with grief. I feel sad when I think about desires I’ve quietly held for a few years now. Still not yet realised, but still very much alive. But maybe, the fact that they are still there, like a strong and stubborn tree root in a storm, is a happy chance in itself. And their time will come.

Mostly I’m remembering and reminding myself that there’s no need to rush any of this. Same goes for you.

Love,

Claire x

Ps. I would really love to hear from you in the comments. How is your emergence from the Covid Cocoon going?

Two of my intentions this year are WRITING and COMMUNITY, with the hope that both of those can be cultivated away from social media. Who knows, we might just revive long-form writing and the good ol’ blogging days?!