OPINION (AN COLÚN): The pleasurable return to pre-Covid normality

It's been noticeable in the last couple of weeks that many things in the locality have now reactivated as Covid has moved from pandemic to endemic and restrictions have been removed.
Apart from the fact that some people are still wearing masks, things have returned to a pre-pandemic normality, which is a fantastic feeling.
In the last couple of weeks I've been attending events and meetings where I've felt a sudden swelling of emotion and tears have welled in my eyes. With an effort I've suppressed them as I don't wish for anyone to see me with tears rolling down my cheeks in public!
The main reason I've been feeling emotional is because it feels so good to be mixing with groups once again. It's been very good to be sitting beside people as we did pre-pandemic, with no distancing between us and no masks. It's wonderful to see the whole of people's faces again, to see them smiling. Masks were unpleasant things to wear and many of us will be glad they are gone.
I love being alone, walking for hours on my own in the mountains, or sitting in my study reading poems and novels. I also love intermingling with people. The social interaction is essential, it's oxygen for the soul. Sometimes I get too much social contact, my heart feels heavy, weighed down with other's nonsense, and I need to retreat into solitude for a while once more; but at the moment I can't get enough of people! It simply feels fantastic to be in their presence.
In the last couple of weeks in my job as a local reporter I have attended a number of functions which have been greatly enjoyable. There was a very strong sense of community at these functions and the vital importance of community in our lives.
For one reason or another community has taken quite a hammering in recent years, but in spite of this it's still doing pretty well, the vital lifeblood of our societies. It's foolish to overlook this truth (as some do).
Last week Rev Arthur Minion was instituted as the new Rector of Birr C of I. It was great to see a full church once again, after such a long time, with no social distancing, few masks; and, joy of joys, being allowed to sing without a mask!
Archbishop Jackson acknowledged the nice feeling this return to normality engendered in one.
There was a lovely reading from the Book of Genesis which described 90 year old Sarah giving birth to Isaac. There's a line in the passage in which Sarah describes her happiness and joy on giving birth to a child: “God has brought me laughter,” she says, “and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me.” It occurred to me that Sarah's warm, happy laughter shows a kind and decent person, someone who is truly religious, as opposed to stern people focused on rigid religious custom, or any other cold, unfeeling system. Imagining warm, happy laughter is like a balm for our minds which can feel upset after navigating difficult people and life's challenges.
One of the best things to happen in Birr over the last few years has been the creation of the LOETB centre on Townsend Street. This is a lovely building inside and there's a positive atmosphere. Last week I attended a very positive occasion here, the launch of a book of stories called The Way We Were. The contributors were 31 people living in the region. The book opens a charming and fascinating door into our past. The stories are a treasure trove of the day-to-day lives of children and adults in Offaly (and a few other counties) since the 1930s. “Part of their fascination,” said the editor Denise Curtin Dunne, “lies in the fact that life has changed so much yet people have changed so little; values remain the same. You will notice in these memories that people weren't judged by what they had, but by their character and kindness.” Declan Costello of Offaly Local Development Company pointed out that, because of Covid, we no longer take a cup of tea and a chat for granted.
On Saturday morning I rose at the crack of dawn and drove down to the Blackstairs Mountains on the Carlow / Wexford border. I had watched a few hours of the horrendous news from Ukraine the previous evening and I could feel the horror of autocracy and human folly weighing down my heart. The weather was fabulous. I climbed two mountains. The scenery looked stunning. There were dozens of sky larks singing high above me. Pairs of ravens were flying and calling a few hundred feet overhead. There were hardly any clouds. Sunglasses and suncream were necessary. The beautiful weather made me think of foreign climes.
I climbed for hours, often through knee-high heather, my heart absorbing the strong sense of the sacred in these high mountains.
The experience was an antidote, pouring waves of positivity into me, sweeping away the negativity and ugliness.