The Muse: July 2020

I haven't cried yet.

I've felt them welling up in my throat, clutching at my heart, stinging my eyes, the tears. But they don't come. A fountain of pain that runs dry at the top. It's as if the tears themselves are afraid of the coronavirus.

Why don't the tears come? Why do I have the capacity to cry over individual stories but not a global pandemic?

I thought perhaps it's burnout. The lockdown precipitated my work schedule into 50-hour plus weeks, staring into the computer screen day after day cranking out COVID-19 communications for my main client.

I thought, maybe it's actually exhaustion. It's tiring to continue working full-time and suddenly have to take on cooking every single meal, home schooling, and complicated cleaning protocols every time you venture outside your house.

With all due respect, it's not, and cannot be either one. Who am I to talk about exhaustion or burnout when I'm not spending 24-hour shifts at the hospital and worrying about infection on an hourly basis, when I can take walks outside, when I don't need to worry about food or shelter, or when I'm lucky enough to have income?

I thought then, perhaps it's an extreme state of numbness or normalization. Taken from a certain perspective, we've seen an incessant stream of negative, sensationalist, and inauthentic "news." After a certain amount of stimulus—positive or negative—you kinda get used to it. So am I getting used to the constant onslaught of terrifying headlines?

Nope, not that either. The stories coming through still elicit a strong response. Many still inspire to go fact-check. Lots of resistance to normalization here!

We're moving through a lot of pain right now. The pain and grief of people dying of the coronavirus and the cruel ways in which their families are forced to say their final goodbyes. The pain and grief of our frontline healthcare professionals, who are fighting day and night to save the lives of their patients along with their own. The pain and grief of Black and other people of color and their communities, which predate the pandemic by several centuries. The pain and grief of our children, who see a bleak future in their present caused by the past—generations of those of us who didn't give a damn about the planet we live on, and extracted and bled it dry for every penny it's worth. The pain and grief of the near-death of decency and democracy.

The reason the tears don't come is because the systemic problems we're facing are so massive, so interconnected, and so all-encompassing that no amount of tears would release or illuminate them. If you want to hear what the world is telling you, and if you want to be able to help in some small—or big—way, you need to move past the tears and focus on your resilience and strength.

Because if you can stay strong, you'll be able to do a lot of good for those who can't.

          ~ Birgitte

Last Friday we received some unexpected news. Aria Luna won 6th place in her age category in the 2020 "The planet, today... and tomorrow?" art competition sponsored by the Centre pour l’UNESCO Louis François in France. This year, close to 5,500 students from 66 countries participated. The Centre put together a video with the 100 winning entries. There is some great talent there. Aria Luna’s entry is called “Missing Peace” and it's at 5:03 in the video.

Aria Luna was excited, but a few days later she completely forgot about it. She cares more about talking to her friends, hiking in the forest, and watching the birds that come to our patio to feed every day. And that's just fine. Growing up, especially now in the Age of Corona, shouldn't be about prizes and winning. It's about those little moments that don't get shared on social media or in the news, but that stay in your heart forever.

Turning it over to the little artist.

Halllooooo! Yes, the time has come for another newsletter. I hope you all are safe and happy •w•

So far in quarantine it's been really lonely. I have my family, and I'm on the iPad a lot of the time playing games or reading or drawing and painting. I thought quarantine would be like shivering in a bunker with rations and a first aid kit, hiding from the inevitable coronavirus. But turns out quarantine hasn't been that bad. I mean it's isolating, and we all have to wear masks when there are people around, we go out only for groceries and walking, and there are no birthday parties or vacation, but we are ok. I have to say, though, the WORST part is barely getting ANY frEencH fRieS or HAAGEN DAzS. i MEAN liKE thaT is ABSolUTe tORTUrE!

I also wonder if the pandemic is going to last another whole school year. I do NOT like online learning, it's so hard and it makes me tiREd and MopEY all day. 

...a h e m

Ok about my art: I'm currently working on my first children's book (ooh yes), based on my Fusion Tide exhibit, with all the illustrations and stuff, with mama (she's doing the text). It's a lot of work. I'm not sharing any spoilers though, hah. I draw a lot on my iPad, too. I have an account on SketchClub, a drawing app that I use.

It's getting close to my 10th birthday. I'm excited, but not as much like I was before the pandemic. I know I can't have the birthday party I imagined, but I'm fine with that. Mama and I talked about it. More important we all stay healthy.

~ Aria