The cage of vulnerability

So here we are. Right in the middle of it. Maybe. Because, honestly, none of us has a clue as to what is really going on or how long this pandemic will last. I am not a news bandit, never have been, but I listen to the wires of the world to try and hear what my fellow human beings are thinking…let alone, what decisions their governments are taking (sometimes on their own) for us.

One of the tiny but yet important things, belonging to the hum and thrum are these discussions. Amongst you, amongst me and all over the world.

It’s both odd and not – everything is to me, actually, in this moment – but I mean specifically what we are saying to one another during this time.

Do you see it? Or am I alone? But I am having conversations that are achingly direct. Usually, we would warm up to this sort of opening, at best, over months.

And yet here we are.

Virtual friends that I have never seen in person, nor have heard their voices, have suddenly offered a shared agreement to be open, a sort of grace.

And that feels scary in itself beyond belief.

So here we are.

What is amazing, is that we are all so rock bottom dollar, that we have given up the game of (fortune and fame) to just admit, “No, I don’t know what is next. And I am scared.”

What a difference this is, you know?

Our collective, western society has been droning on for so long, “I got this.” “I got this.” It is the engine behind what we were taught to be.

And yet, of course, we have been thrown to the seas; monsters are knocking at the door…caving it in. Choose your metaphor.

What is beautiful…and yes, it is hard and unfair to talk about beauty within this ongoing breath of death…but. But…there are, and have been a lot of exchanges that are…beautiful. Tears shed and words broken like bread.

As we struggle on, day by day…we speak.

Some yell, but most speak. And often, in so doing, they rattle the cages of their vulnerability, whispering what they would never dare to otherwise.

These moments seem to be the building blocks of our future.

Or could be.

“I can’t do this anymore.” “I feel alone and I am tired of it.” “I don’t want my life to be some form of bullshit just because society says so.” “I am not going back. I am not.”

What I am hearing.

To say, listen. Listen. Listen, can you listen?

(We can be all of the things we did not think we were capable of.)

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To ribbon up my two previous posts, a Leonard Cohen quote – one that I have cited here before but seems especially appropriate now: “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”

 

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It’s interesting. I wrote this nearly a week ago. And yet, the waves of emotion and thought are rolling through our cultures so quickly now that it almost seems out-dated. Not in terms of pertinence, but what it feels like our current state might be.
Remember, it serves no one and nothing to push your feelings down. You will only have to deal with them later. So please…you take care of you.  Keep the door on the cage open, if you can.
Perhaps because it is Earth Day, I feel grounded in something that is both hopeful and yet has an angry fire behind it burning. One of urgency. For I am convinced that this pandemic is an outward mirroring of our destroying the planet. Somehow. 
And that it is not too late to change. 
Slowly, I want to take a deep breath and lift my eyes…up.


I am sending my deepest condolences to all that have lost loved ones and friends to COVID 19. 


With love from Provence,
Heather

10 comments

  1. Poignant and pertinent xx This crisis has highlighted what we really need: food, shelter, love; the simple profound things. I'm a believer in small scale, localised living (which is easier if you live in the middle of good farmland, lucky me) being a way to change the unnecessary grasping of capitalism.
    Sending love to all and a thank you for expressing this to you, Heather 🙂

  2. A beautiful, thought provoking post dear Heather. Love, hugs & prayers for you and the whole world ~ FlowerLady

  3. Such gorgeous photos that capture the vulnerability of spring, even more gorgeous because they are of France, who photographs so well.
    We are between Scylla and Charybdis, between deaths from the virus on one side and economic despair on the other. I am grateful to be in France, with its excellent health care. A French friend asked what happens to Americans who have lost their jobs, and thus their health insurance, and who catch the virus? They're out of luck, I told her. In their cases, both Scylla and Charybdis claim victims.

  4. You are so right, Heather. We all need to listen. To the scientists and the doctors. The people who know of which they speak. The virus is in control at the moment and most of humanity is listening and fighting back. And so many people are putting their lives on the line to help the rest of us survive. We need to keep listening so those essential workers and health care warriors survive as well. Then, when the light you promise comes through the crack, let's hope we can get it right this time. Please keep posting and sharing your light with us.

  5. Thank you for your beautiful post! Yes, we're all vulnerable right now; we're all vulnerable to catching this virus! And then many are vulnerable to having a financial fallout, to loneliness, to sadness – all of it. I'm so glad you're talking about this as it needs to be talked about – it's SO huge; hard to wrap your head around! And your beautiful photos – LOVE. Your blog posts are definitely a silver lining!

  6. We are all a bit broken, I think. Some days I feel as if I am carrying a big weight. That's when I know that I need sunlight and fresh air. We were terrified, at first, of this pandemic being such a small and crowded island. But by trying to all pull the same rope, things are starting to slowly turn around. And the light is starting to come in.

  7. I am so glad you are posting again. And, it seems, you and I are on a similar wave length re: Leonard Cohen: https://www.instagram.com/p/B-pJBIRBKAU/

    And, yes, I find myself being more direct, and not necessarily in a way that is so helpful. I am very angry about where unbridled capitalism has landed us in the U.S. Paul and I have been talking about how a country founded in chattel slavery where our capitalist system has its deep, deep roots for decades, and that quashes democratic movements in other places, is not at all "the greatest," but perhaps the least humane country in which to live. And we have argued with friends, also for decades, about the need for universal healthcare, a right citizens of almost every other country enjoy. So although I should be glad that the curtain has been pulled, I find myself annoyed with those who are just now realizing this — people we have argued with for years. Why? Why? Why? did they formerly believe that we were "unrealistic" to want to create a more humane society that takes care of everyone, not just the richest among us. I don't enjoy being "right" about much of this, just frustrated that I didn't do a better job of arguing for these things in the past.

    I will get off my soapbox now and spend some time working on my own privilege and developing a bit more humility. Sending love as always.

  8. Possibly one enormous positive will be attained. As we seek solace in the safety of nature, walking, sitting, being .. we may rediscover the true peace, tranquility, and strength of this wonderful Earth which cradles and sustains us .. coming out the other side with renewed energy and vitality to love and treat “Her” with gentle thankfulness .. Hopefully. Thank you, Rocket, for another beautiful post.

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