I was going through some old photos and this one of a brass band caught my eye. I think with our gloomy grey skies I find anything red attracts me at the moment. The setting is Windsor Castle, and the pomp and ceremony when my son was invested as a Queen’s Scout. The honour was his, not mine, although I admit to being an enormously proud mum.
The memory of that day is so far removed from what we are experiencing in lockdown now. It’s not only the colour and spectacle, which the British do so well, but the crowds mingling, the baking hot sun (and it was only April!) and the pageantry to mark the occasion.
It got me thinking about all the things that we took for granted in our pre-Covid world, and hopefully one day will once more. The personal freedoms we accepted as our right, the ability to move around and mix wherever and with whoever we wished. The joy of a hug and a kiss, the delight of a smile unmasked, standing so close you were jostled and it didn’t matter, and the thrill of a grand event to stamp this indelibly in your memory.
I have never been fond of crowds, preferring a walk in nature to a thronging high street. Today though, as I pass deserted streets and wonder how many of these places will rise from the blight of endless lockdowns, I would love to see crowds of people, going about their own business without worrying about rules and regulations.
The grand gesture that marks an event is more special than I ever understood, now that memories are like a Groundhog loop of walking, working, sleeping and repeat. It is not only the weather that has become dull and grey, it is our very lives. The other people that give it colour, the meetings that make it special, the food that flavours it.
It is not just the red that draws my eye, it is the magic of a moment etched in time. The colour and the contrast, that reconnect me with every sense in my memory – the sights, the sounds, the smells and that aching, bursting feeling of pride in your offspring. It walks me along the streets of Windsor, where the heat was almost unbearable, the standing waiting was exhausting, and the meal afterwards was a joyous celebration.
Art is in my blood and I have grown up with constantly looking at paintings, seeing contrasts and highlights. Wandering down memory lane is all very well, but life only happens in the present. I now understand why we need those lines in the sand, the big moments that mark them, why it isn’t simply the event that matters but the anticipation, the preparation and then the pleasure afterwards in a memory created.
Somewhere and somehow, we now have to add that colour in whatever way we can. Chiaroscuro. Adding the red to the grey gloom of lockdown.
How will you do that?
Reframe Coaching 