I was thinking about the waves of this pandemic yesterday while standing in my backyard. I was hearkening back to the good old days of First Wave social distancing. Remember those days? First, it was disbelief, and then we were taken over by super weird Tiger documentaries, art supplies, funny videos and memes about our current situation, the toilet paper scarcity, our lack of pants and general novelty of a world on hiatus/impending doom. First wave isolation, I call it.
Now, I think I’m in second wave isolation. The jokes aren’t as funny, the Tigers have come and gone, it’s clear we’re not wearing going out clothes, we waited on Easter and then it disappeared in a puff of smoke and we’re left wondering how long this will go. Deeper quiet, longer pauses. I saw familiar faces in the grocery store yesterday but only felt comfortable to give a quick smile and keep on walking. I don’t facetime or zoom to catch up with anyone, because what is there to say? Second wave isolation is more serious.
So, I joined two songwriting groups and a life coaching mastermind to get my shit together. I bought seeds and potting soil and set up the potential plants in my bay window. I’m running longer distances in to the west wind and my foot hurts so I only run every other day.
I need the songs. I need the coaching. The coaching asked me questions. Wanna know what they are? Try these out:
What is your relationship to yourself? What is your relationship to your dream or goal? What is your relationship with the creative process? With your body? With money? To obstacles and resistance? What is your relationship to new people and experiences?
You may have danced around these topics in your mind a time or two, but have you pointedly asked yourself these questions directly? Yeah, me neither. They are revealing. They are informative.
And it turns out my basement is all about me. I have this messy basement where I do my recording and my music work, the boys play PS4, we store our Christmas decorations and host the occasional house guest. It’s full of stuff and my job is to look at it like I’m looking in a mirror. Oh Hopie, looks like you’ve stuffed a bunch of stuff in a corner that you don’t want to deal with. Oh Hope, it looks like you are afraid to start things for fear of never finishing. Oh Hopie, why can’t you face your music work area and see that you clearly don’t take it seriously or hold it precious? No one who loves something would create such chaos. It looks like you’re sabotaging your own best efforts. Who writes kick ass music when they have to step over boxes and Cds and papers and crap just to get to the chair where the microphone is? Legos, a bookshelf, dust that needs dusting, blankets, controllers, AA batteries, DVDs we don’t watch, stuffed animals forgotten, merch still in boxes and old notebooks notebooks, scrap paper, post its, notebooks and notebooks you should just throw away.
Second wave isolation feels deeper and darker. It’s clear that I’m soft and my calluses are gone. I am my basement, a hole in the ground with shame I have hidden. Who cares if I’m crying? I’m all by myself.
That’s why those questions are important. That’s why it’s good to see how we’ve shifted, it’s good to take something concrete and see how you’ve put yourself in it somehow. It’s not just coincidence or laziness or time, it’s a story you write and a scene you construct and that is what I’m doing with me and my stuff.