Dear Daring Readers,
During these long weeks that seem like months our lives have been turned upside down and we are all feeling it in some way, although we all see it from different perspectives.
As much as I am a fan of change I am pretty sure that even considering the best of circumstances before this crisis hit, we have all overdosed, big time! Everything seems to have changed, even the smallest thing is not as easy or as spontaneous as it was before. This crisis has a tendency to amplify existing issues and will require focusing on healing as one of the many ways to deal with the aftermath. As someone who has always struggled with anxiety I can see it in my own world, whatever you struggled with before this happened will become even more pronounced during and after it is over.
We have to come to terms as a society with how precarious lives have been for many, when almost everything closes and it becomes apparent that so many have been really close to the poverty line all along. And, of course, some jobs assume a different connotation during a pandemic, when the right to food and healthcare are seen as vital, more than ever before, at least in my lifetime. What is basic and important is redefined and could shine a light on the role of privilege and inequality, and the scarce availability of services and resources that constitute rights.
Given that inequality and climate change were the biggest issues until the beginning of this year, I wonder if this crisis will exacerbate them or make us try to come to terms with their impact. I fear that we are going to allow what was wrong before to grow louder and stronger and destroy what will be left when this crisis is over.
Right now uncertainty has got to unprecedented levels because the only reliable forecast seems to be the one for the weather, and this can make anyone feel unstable. Healing in the context of my own life and helping others when I can are under my control, while so many other things are not at all. Uncertainty coupled with a perceived lack of control can make anyone feel anxious. While I focus on healing (I will share more in a later post), the absence of a future I can imagine is a considerable obstacle.
All of this makes me feel like we are all watching the same events unfolding from where we are: a hospital bed, a hospital ward, a kitchen of a restaurant, a nursing home, a jail or prison, a food bank, a police station, a supermarket, or from home, like me. The event in question is made of thousands of tragic events: deaths, mistakes, and a lack of care and leadership in many cases. And yes, there is solidarity and kindness in all of this, but it is arguably not the main event, because it cannot change the bleak forecasts, that are not at all accurate anyway but seriously terrifying, of the future we are going to live if we survive.
Personally I would rather give this a name to conceptualize it and accept it. The name is future eclipse. We have the power now to shape some of our future, yet so much is changing in the present that future impact seems to have vanished into the void of the unknown. Plans cannot be made or the few that can come with altered strategies and extra caution. People say we cannot go back to normal because that was the problem. Yes! Absolutely! Our future seems so bleak, nebulous and foggy now, yet it could actually be re-imagined to be more equitable and fair and change things for the better in the long run.
I definitely hope so.
For now.
This is the future eclipse.
Our reality and the poem below.
Future eclipse Don’t gather for the future eclipse. It will be seen as clearly as possible from where you are. The best viewing point is a hospital bed; optimal viewing might only be temporary, unfortunately. There are no front seats, we are all scattered in small groups, or alone, seated there, with our single perspective that seems to wither and die. Years ago I saw a future eclipse up close and at some range you have too. A future you can’t see seems to be imploding. The first few weeks of uncertainty were a forest fire. Nothing was as easy or seen in the same light, meaning twisted and contorted. And after came the future eclipse. When the ash just kept piling up and made our horizon, our future, disappear in a haze while our literal horizon cleared up. Now, feel all the pain you can bear and be open to more, as it is coming. Now, reach for coping mechanisms that will keep you afloat. Now, stay safe. That word means a lot less than usual. While fear spreads like fire, we set some of our future alight without noticing, carry the silent malady, and other people spread it too. When all performances are cancelled the one remaining gains spectators. We are seeing the spectacle of the eclipse from our seats, a changing facet of the same whimper and scream, another version of a gasp for air. This is a total eclipse and we haven’t seen “safe” emerge from the other side, yet so many never saw it before and were joined en mass at the unglamorous party of the unknown and unsafe. This is an eclipse. As much as you’d rather be woken up when it is over, turn your head away, numb it completely, wish it away… remember, this is an eclipse. Dare2beb@ld
I thank you for reading my poem with all my heart. My hope is that self-expression in all its forms will help bring about the kind of world we need after the eclipse. You are part of this too. You are the audience!
With gratitude and a big dose of worry,
Dare2beb@ld
P.S. Another installment of #springnotcancelled
Dare to be b@ld 