The world is being swept by a slow pandemic and we are all being asked to stay home and all I can feel is the Earth shuddering a sigh of pure pleasure beneath the panic of human restraint. It is the bliss of the breathing of oceans; the spaciousness of a global pause; a rippling shiver through the being to which we all inextricably belong.
Tonight I spent on a call with quarantined beings from all over the planet, and the tenderness of the community and creativity and the art that has already emerged through this briefest of pauses was enough to fill a galaxy of human hearts.
I recall the only true response to the unknown is wonder.
There is a beauty to the notes of those who were forced to stutter through a litany of countries and cultures as children, or who from a young age found themselves inhabiting high-stakes identities that forced a double life, or who are well-versed in the art of creating mosaics out of trauma.
There is a beauty to knowing what it is to have a self that bleeds beyond the shattered worldview that was originally intended to hold it.
There is a beauty to knowing what it is to shrug off the known.