Limits and expansion: my first lockdown experience

I’ve shortly returned to inner-city Melbourne from three months living with my mum in Murrurundi, NSW. Murrurundi is a small town in the Upper Hunter between Scone and Tamworth on the New England Highway. When lockdown was announced in March, I followed my instinct to retreat there.

Mum lives off the grid. There were limitations to accessing power, water and light – all those things I take for granted in the city. But these were balanced by the expansion of space, sky and skills, like learning how to operate the water pump and build a fire. 

Time was also limited, as I was busier than ever. I took on freelance and volunteer projects that poured in, in addition to full-time work. Socialising was obviously limited. At first, I met people through front door screens, then eventually we were able to cross each other’s thresholds and take tea together.

What expanded was my appreciation for the land when we dug out a vegetable garden, and reaped its delicious rewards weeks later. (I’m embarking on doing that now, as I’ve received permission to dig up the small patch of earth in the building’s common area.)

My country sojourn has also expanded the way I see things, literally. In the city, we most often look at things at close range. In the country, my eyes practised roaming out to the middle and long distance. Where Mum could spot the resident tawny frogmouths in the gum tree out the back, I struggled to find and see them at all. 

More than once, the power cut out, which totally challenged my addiction to working. When the computer screen first went black, I almost cried.

The water, sourced from two tanks on the property, had to be pumped from one to another. I felt very satisfied whenever I put that pump to work. I learned to wash the dishes quickly and soap up in the shower without the water running. We hand-washed all our clothes, including sheets and towels.

As the weather cooled down, we collected wood from around the property, stacking the larger pieces into the car boot.

These physical activities, the constant jobs that life on a property entails, left me feeling invigorated in a way I had never experienced before. I slept like a log every night.

Even though I was working throughout, the new surroundings and limited resources led to a shake up of my schedule. Where in the city, I start work around 10, after exercising and enjoying a leisurely breakfast at home, in the country, my body returned to its natural rhythms and I was up with the birds. I’d do a yoga class online at 6, and be logged on by 7.30 each morning. This served a dual purpose: making the most of the solar power and allowing enough light in the day for a good walk after work.

Walking every single day in nature and up hills revived my spirits and shifted my focus to what’s important. What’s actually important: health, connection with loved ones, connection with Mother Earth, being present in the moment to avoid tripping over various obstacles on the earth’s floor. 

As much as there were new limitations to contend with, there was also expansion to balance them out.

My period in lockdown was but a blip in the context of a lifetime, but was one of enormous riches, many unexpected. Onward I now journey into a second lockdown here in Melbourne, but my soul carries those riches, helping me overcome the challenges of living in a small apartment unable to see my friends as I’d anticipated. And there’s a garden to build.