Against the tide
When the quarantine began, I was at a crossroads with work. Not the 100 Men Hall, which I had managed to get on a monthly music schedule and had been pushing towards self sufficiency, but rather work that pays my bills.
On March 15, everyone and everything stopped and it’s as if the world stepped back to where I had been standing all along. I’m not going to lie, it felt good to not be the only one struggling financially.
Then because I could not be productive, it opened up space to just be. During this time I did not plan, strategize, or produce I just began walking longer distances. Hadn’t I moved to Bay Saint Louis to walk by the water?
I heard some people lament the quarantine. I read many social media posts about how people were grieving because of it. Not people who had lost a loved one to the virus, but people who couldn’t work, socialize, attend an event, and travel.
My thoughts were elsewhere. Yes, the momentum I had gained at the Hall had stopped. No, I didn’t know what my next move would be. But I was no longer swimming through jello, instead I felt vast space opening up all around me.
Now we are returning to what most people hope is “normal” and I’m not feeling it. Normal for me was not ideal. Trying to earn a living, operating a nonprofit with limited resources, no time to walk, bike, write and be. I’m not feeling inclined to re-enter that world, yet I spent none of this time re-imagining it either. What I have done is pry open even more space to receive suggestions or directions and hope that takes me where I need to go.
This morning I walked along the Gulf of Mexico watching the dolphins race by, feeding and then thrashing around the water, and then zooming to the next thing. I longed to find a rhythm similar to theirs, one where I could follow my spirit and not my plans.
