by Jude Southerland Kessler
https://www.johnlennonseries.
“Here in some stranger’s room,
Late in the afternoon…
What I am doin’ here at all?”
John Lennon, “I’m Losing You”
We’ve all felt it … that surrealistic moment when we stop, turn around, and say, “What am I doing??? What. Am. I. Doing?”
For me, the answer to that query is: working too hard and working too long, running here and there, pushing ahead heedlessly without a breather, spending every spare second “achieving” instead of enjoying. No matter how you answer that question, we have one thing in common: given enough time and space, we can gradually lose our way. Our lives can change without our realizing it — in minute increments — almost by indiscernible degrees.
The on-going pandemic of 2020 made my natural tendency to work even more intense. Non-stop. The temptation to drive to Monroe for a burger at Enoch’s Irish Pub was, for months, gone. The delight of a lazy, laughter-filled afternoon with family was, for a long time, taken away. Last year, the wonderful prospect of leisurely strolling and shopping in Shreveport’s Akins Nursery (home of the largest Crepe Myrtle tree on record … no joke!) or eating a sandwich at Cush’s Grocery was revoked. Other than binge- watching some exhilarating Netflix or Amazon series, most of us had no way to relax or have fun.
Pretty soon, life around my house became unrecognizable. I don’t know about you, but I cleaned nooks and crannies, folded clothes, weeded gardens, changed sheets, reorganized closets, painted rooms, dusted blinds, and well, you get the idea! I signed up for more and more writing assignments, created webinars, took on new blogs, and researched my buns off for the next volume in The John Lennon Series. If the bold hero of “The Last Kingdom,” Uhtred, thought “Destiny is all!” he was oh-so-wrong! Around our house, “Work is all.” My husband and I laughingly agreed that the famous line from the Christmas movie, Elf – “Work is your favorite! Make work your favorite!” – should be etched above our front door. Work has consumed every inch that leisure used to occupy.
We’ve, uh, wandered off the path of normal.
And that is how John Lennon felt in the song “I’m Losing You,” quoted above. As John penned the lyrics in 1980, he was thinking back to one late afternoon in the early 1970’s when he “came to his senses” somewhere in New York City, in a strange room with a strange person. And strangely enough, not only did John not recognize the woman in question … he didn’t even recognize himself! As he created “I’m Losing You” in June of 1980, he realized that years later, he was finding himself in a similar situation. Through a series of complicated scenarios, John and his wife, Yoko, had once again drifted away from one another. “Somehow,” John wrote, “the wires have crossed” and “communication’s lost.” He complained that he “can’t even get [Yoko] on the telephone.” Over a long stretch of stressful and bizarre months, John and Yoko had gradually become strangers as well.
And that could happen to us just as easily.
So … what did John do? Well, he stopped, re-evaluated, sought inspiration, and started over again. And it’s okay to do that. As we emerge from this horrendous pandemic…as we slowly return to the life we once knew, it’s okay to regroup and begin life over.
We can begin today to enjoy a moment, a smell, a recipe, an old friend, a lost hobby, a long walk, a bicycle ride, a destination, a song. We can join a gym, take an online class … or a physical one. We can volunteer to read at a nursing home or deliver Meals on Wheels. We can text 3 people every morning who need our support. We can spend some precious time each evening in prayer or meditation. We can try a new dish, read a new book, listen to a streaming channel we’ve never sampled before, or find a new podcast that intrigues us. We can plan a trip to enjoy live music in Covington, LA. Or we can stroll through the lush paradise that is Shreveport’s R. W. Norton Art Gallery Gardens.
The isolation of our “CoVid Year” may have made all things odd and surrealistic. But it’s time to redirect. If you’ve been given the green light to rejoin the world, dive in! Reclaim the familiar. Find your way back to “ordinary.” Or … go for the gusto and use this springboard moment to discover the extraordinary … to reach out for joy!
If you’re stranded in a stranger’s room, you don’t have to linger there. Now is the time to go home.
