something for strange times
because these are strange times. surely the strangest i have been personally affected by in my lifetime. it seems like, at least for a little while, things are only going to be getting stranger.
it is a time to be slow. it feels like time to make and do and yet i sleep. for hours and hours i close my eyes and my body raises itself in the morning like it is coming out from underneath fallen trees. the old branches and lichens of last year fallen and tangled in a winter storm. someone told me it is spring. the world said it is spring. everywhere i go i can hear the water running. dripping. it feels like a time for action and still i sleep.
fresh off of six months of self-reflection and ritual making i feel at least a little prepared. this time for quiet, for alone, might be asking you to look inside. it is a scary and difficult time. we must go deep. not just for ourselves, but for our neighbours. we must go slowly. there is no rushing. not now. everything is on hold.
let the fear and worry come, but when that tide heads back out to sea (as it inevitably will) comb the beach. on the shore you will find gratitude and humility and comfort. others might be far away, but you will see nearly everyone you know doing the same. and when the water comes rushing back in (as it inevitably will), and there is a wet panic underfoot, hold the seashells you’ve just found up to your ear and listen, friends. there is sweet music coming from all around.
things have fallen a little off schedule ‘round here for me, just like everyone else. i booked flights on a saturday and was in my hometown by sunday evening. timezones and oceans be damned, i guess. i am profoundly out of it a lot of the time. i am taking care to find compassion for myself and keep my rituals where i can. letting go where i cannot. with that, this newsletter will be weekly at least for the next month or so. it gives me a little structure, a little purpose.
salve of the season
Tom Rosenthal
i’ve followed the musings and makings of Tom Rosenthal for almost five years now. his Instagram features some of my favourite content (mostly his two daughters toddling around with their adorable British accents). this year he released this song he wrote with one of them about dinosaurs. but most recently he wrote a song written earlier in the year that happens to be wildly relevant. it’s got some Alt-J vibes if that’s your thing. otherwise i’d say it’s got some of those solace in vague nihilism vibes.
before it’s release he wrote an accompanying statement:
“It’s an upbeat and defiant song that was written at the very start of this year, away from the strange time of now. I’m so aware that we’ve now moved into a very serious and sensitive moment, and this song will now take on new meanings in relation to everything that’s happening. I’ve decided to release the song. So many of you said you wanted to hear it and for those of you that do, I hope it offers some hope and reassurance. That was my intention when writing it. And to those who don’t want to listen, of course I completely understand. I hope this all makes sense.”
i do happen to find it particularly comforting despite the title, and maybe you will too.
if we all die tomorrow then i’m pissing outside yeh there’s this bush i’ve had my eye on for a really long time
bonny doon
for some subtle contrast, this song by bonny doon was shared with me just this week. with david berman-esque vocals (tonally and rhythmically) and a simple melody perfect for singing along to when you need to reassure yourself of reality.
are there new ways to see
when the old ways die?
lastly, i subscribed to this newsletter a few weeks ago (thanks Amy!), and having a poem sent to my inbox each day has become one of the ways i feel grounded. i don’t have to flip through a book scouting for words of wisdom, here they are, already pre-selected for me. i sent this one to my mom who was faraway at the time.
usually there would be a donation suggestion here, but during this time i know we’re all just doing our best. still - a gentle reminder to share what you can and remember while we are all going through it, as always, folks who are marginalized are at heightened risk these days. give where and how you can in your community.
take care.