halfway home
i’ve stopped thinking about “social distancing” and “sheltering in place” as something i’m expecting to end and more as something that’s just going on in the world today. in other words, i’m not expecting a “return to normal,’ nor am i imagining a “new normal.” i suppose you could call that acceptance, but it’s not that either. it’s really just living in the moment without looking ahead and without looking back. i have hope for the future, but i am not imagining what the future might have in store.
i miss our nights at vincent’s. i miss seeing friends and meeting new fans. i miss traveling. i miss going out to eat and hearing live music. i miss my children who live far away. all of this is true. but i don’t miss the relentless pace of modern life. i don’t miss trying to keep up with a firehose of information. i don’t miss the subtle degradation of my quality of life through expectations of speed, twitter politics, real and fake news, talking heads, accelerated wealth disparity and deep state and social crime. the “virus” seems to have given us a bit of a pause button. maybe we can reclaim our humanity.
as artists, we look at ourselves as personalities for sale- a container for our craft- and we shape what we think conveys our essence in our mannerisms, dress and figures of speech. this is done to deliver our message and hopefully to lure you into our inner world which, for whatever reason, we are desperate to deliver to you to feel whole in ourselves. this is the commerce of art. i was amused by the photograph above, taken by fellow artist donna green, after she dressed me in a soft forest coat, a scarf and a beret. perhaps this is the essence of me as she sees it. shades of rembrandt and rimbaud. i’m flattered and surprised at how natural this feels. it’s taken me 65 years to grow into my own container.
the “Great Pause” has given me a chance to catch up with myself. i’ve been gardening. i stopped writing and started again— this time without the urgency to get any particular message across.i’ve almost traveled and stopped. it’s ok to stay still. at the beginning of the quarantine, my friend and colleague bob crowley said, “it wouldn’t be the worst thing for us all to read a book.” amen. it might be a good time to write a book. we might never have a Great Pause again. perhaps we should make as much use of it as we can.
who are we? who are we as americans? who are we as citizens? who are we as individuals and, if many of us “work remote,” why are we here together? these are good questions. at what point in our lives did things “freeze,” and why? do we value what we have and can we change those things that diminish our human potential? how important is money? family? work? love? these are the questions that have come up for me, but i am privileged enough to have a place to live, high-speed internet and enough food to eat— so far. what of those who don’t? what is our responsibility to our fellow man, especially in times like these?
and for me, it’s about home. i’ve become a bit of a vagabond over the last decade or so and i’m beginning to look for an anchor. these other questions help me frame my answer. as my dad was dying, he said the only thing that matters is love, and I’m using that as a guidepost. as we race along in our “normal” lives, the “big” questions get lost in the minutiae and our lives become about the minutiae rather than the “big” questions. this can sow seeds of discontent and dissatisfaction, and I am determined to use this “Great Pause” to let the big questions guide me home.
i hope we get to see each other soon. but most importantly, i hope we all come back to each other with a greater sense of purpose and self. i look forward to shaping a better future with you in the weeks and months ahead.
love,
jc