I haven’t written here for four months because what else is there to say other than what has already been recorded by Melbourne artists much more adept than me at expressing our pain and worry.
There seems to be an expectation of those in the arts community to step up during times of great loss. They are asked to play for free at fundraisers and write about the collective pain of a community or even a nation.
But we feel it. God, do we feel it. No financial support for the arts from the Government here has meant those who are asked to carry and translate the emotional load are without any safety net.
Those in the arts are trained to understand emotion and feel at a level somewhat deeper than many other professions. How can an actor portray heartbreak if they can’t access the pain easily? How can a writer portray loss without feeling it deeply and call it back from their memory to the page?
I have been exhausted by the pandemic. Working too hard to avoid the reality I can’t leave my house unless I absolutely have to pick something up. Work was an excuse to not feel. I wrote a book, I edited a book. I collapsed. I sleep poorly then sleep well then the cycle repeated. Nothing about that is inspiring or interesting. I am coping the best I can, like anyone else.
There have been a few things that have happened in lockdown that have been remarkable and dreams that have come true for me. Big goals met and yet I can’t truly celebrate them because they exist outside the world I currently live in and really, who cares? I don’t even care right now. I shrug when those who know mention them. They don’t really matter at such a time.
Right now we are surviving. Not living. Trying not to get the virus, trying not to give the virus to others. Trying to fend off illness. Denying the virus the chance to take us out at our knees.
Living is the opposite of surviving. When we truly live we take our mortality as a given one a day but not now and push ourselves to grow, learn, make goals a reality and embracing it with everything we have.
It is hard to live when you’re surviving.
There are small things that I hang onto. My group chats with my friends make me mindful and present. My dogs. Planning a new book without deadlines or pressure and enjoying the research. Doing some work on myself physically and mentally. Being present with my partner. The days are getting lighter in the evening. I walk the dogs and comment on the camellias and the blossoms starting to form on the branches.
Then I remembered this quote from Neruda.
“Take it all back. Life is boring, except for flowers, sunshine, your perfect legs. A glass of cold water when you are really thirsty. The way bodies fit together. Fresh and young and sweet. Coffee in the morning. These are just moments. I struggle with the in-betweens. I just want to never stop loving like there is nothing else to do, because what else is there to do?”
Perhaps COVID is an in-between. A long one. What I can do is love everyone around me with more passion than ever before. Remind those around me I love them. Love with abandon and love with no expectation. If the world is ending, wouldn’t we want to tell everyone we loved that they were worth being here for? Worth loving?
So whatever happens. I love you. For reading this. For trying to survive with me. For wanting to live again.