By: Hallie Horton
I can’t write this week and not talk about the pandemic. This is hard. This is so hard. For everyone. There is not one single person on this entire Earth who this is not hard for. Which kind of makes it harder. But it kind of makes it easier, too. We’re in this together. We’re grieving together, building together, stumbling together, learning together. We’ve been asked to take our ceaselessly scurrying little feet and come to a halt together.
This virus is tough and it came out of left field and startled us and devastated the tiniest little corners of our everyday lives quicker than we could even process what in the hell was going on. Devastation. That’s what’s happening. Grief. That too. Confusion, frustration, depression, anxiety. Everything. Every single feeling. They’re here and they’re loud and they’re okay.
Chaos aside, there’s no doubt – at least not in my mind – that this is part of The Master Plan. How could I possibly believe “this is part of The Master Plan” when I can’t even count on one hand the number of people I know whose job or income has not been impacted? When our grandparents and our friends with underlying health conditions are panic-stricken at the thought of catching this thing? When we are panic-stricken at the thought of losing them? When the numbers of those infected and dying just keep growing, and growing, and growing?
I don’t know. Despite the madness, I just Know (capital “K”) this is an opportunity. A blessing in disguise, if you will. I know that with destruction comes creation. I know that hard things happen but I know good things happen, too. There’s a part of me that feels insensitive and guilty saying all of this because thus far, I’m unscathed. I still have a job and a steady income. I still have my health and a roof over my head. I have good people. I don’t know, maybe it’s easier to have Faith when you’re not suffering.
Then again, I’ve suffered before. I’ve visited the depths. I’ve danced with darkness and Faith was the thing that got me through. We’ve all suffered. Individually and collectively. And we’ve gotten through it every. single. time. Sure, we may have picked up a few bumps and bruises along the way but what’s being human if not getting a little torn up on an otherwise awe-inspiring ride? I’m not religious but I believe so firmly in holding Faith the size of a mustard seed, always and no matter what. It means so much when you can sit in the mud and still look up to the sky. Spending time with friends, exercising, eating well, all that good stuff – it can only do so much if you don’t believe life is inherently good.
Speaking of healthy coping tools: music. Aah, yes, music. The reason you’re here, reading this. Nicky Murphy (formerly known as Chet Faker) released his instrumental album, “Music for Silence,” on March 6th of this year. This album is a spiritual experience. I’m telling you – go to your room, lay in your bed, turn on this album, close your eyes, and let this album take you wherever it may (this is also a great album for a yoga practice). Track two, Blood And, left me speechless. It’s simple yet profound and it’s how I imagine this article would sound if it was just a wordless compilation of frequencies; this track sounds like my feelings feel.
I fear I’d be doing this track, and this album as a whole, an injustice by talking it to death, so please, please, please. Do yourself a favor and take one hour and two minutes away from social media, the news, and panic-driven conversations to remember peace. This album a gift and it’s full of light and warm hugs and whispers reminding you, “It’s all right.” Take it.