…I don’t know what.
What a strange time to be alive. A wonderful time. A dreadful time. A confusing time. We can maintain our social connections and get everything delivered through our smartphones while we quarantine ourselves inside our homes — so modern. Meanwhile, I just signed up to receive the Farmer’s Almanac in the mail so I can get better at growing my own vegetables and flowers — so ancient. I guess we’re all trying to find the right balance for our lives during a time when everything feels thrown off. At this moment, it’s hard to know how to find it. It’s hard to know what to believe. It’s hard to know what to do.
So what do we do when things seem to be falling apart? I don’t know. All I can say is that it helps me to remember what I do have despite disrupted schedules and cancelled gigs, despite pandemics, despite tornados, despite the recurring smacks in the face that remind me I’m not in charge of anything. Despite my wandering, monkey-ish mind, I keep going back to that, and the fact that life is a beautiful and tragic experience all at the same time. We can’t have one without the other.
I pulled out Anne Lamont’s Stitches: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope, and Repair this morning. And I’m so glad I did. There is this line on the back cover: “Where is meaning in the pits?” I love that. And the best answer I can come up with is that the meaning in the pits is often just as simple as knowing that sometimes you’re just in the pits. The pits are part of life. And you can’t appreciate not being in the pits unless you spend some time in them. Regardless of the time in which we live, that has always been a universal truth. But while we’re down here, we have to believe that we will emerge to a better day.
I do. I do indeed.
Peace and love and happy Wednesday,