Dear Families
“Dearly Beloved(s), we are gathered here today to get through this thing called Life. Electric word life, it means forever.”
Prince, Let’s Go Crazy 1984
“No, we’re never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy.”
Seal, Crazy 1990
Dear Families,
Okay, whew. So that whole mourning piece from last week really opened me up in ways I was not anticipating. I hope you are all okay. I think God and our intuition are like that: always nudging us further and asking us to open up a little more and let go of a little more. Sometimes, we can fool ourselves into thinking that our wisdom or a word is only for the other, when it really is for us. Ultimately, what I keep coming back to is that there actually is no other. But that is another deep dive for another newsletter! I want to stay with this theme of grief for now. This past week was intense. I moaned, I rocked, I wept, and I wailed. Grieving is hard. It is hard to stay present with our strong emotions. So many of us have been taught to abandon ourselves emotionally and that makes it hard to feel safe in the big waves that define grieving. It is a long journey to come home to ourselves. We need companions. And patience and compassion go a long way too. Here is the wonderful thing about even the most arduous trek, there are moments of respite. For me, music has always been that place. I remember being a little kid and learning how to play a record before I rode a bike. In the 80s Caribbean culture, the basement party was a big deal and kids got dragged out past their bedtimes and ran amok on the main floor while the parents partied (and mostly ignored us) in the basement. Many times, I fell asleep on a living room floor in a pile of other children to the thumping of funk, soul and soca basslines. These are rhythms that live in my cellular makeup and contribute to my being. At preschool age, I remember waking up amongst limbs and braids and the drool of exhausted kids to brave my way down the stairs through crowds of grownups and clouds of smoke to get to the record player in the basement. I would look at my father and sleepily ask, “Dad, can I play the records, just for a little while?” He would always say yes and I would get a great joy from picking the songs that caused the dancing and the laughter and the delight of the grown-up revelers.
All through my life, I have fallen into music when I had nowhere else to go. And when my grieving this week had crescendoed and I felt the need to let go of what was pent up; I danced. I turned up the music and moved and shouted the lyrics and laughed and whooped. I curated the songs that would open me up so I could let go and get a little freer, even if for the moment. I definitely looked slightly mad and incredibly goofy. Yes, of course, I listened to the songs quoted above! How could I not? If they are not already on everyone’s global pandemic playlist, I ask one question: why not? So, do you care to dance? To go a little crazy? I’d love to know your favourite songs. What is on your Pandemic Playlist? If you need help getting started, try the songs above. Blow off some steam and be silly. That gets to be part of grief too. Until next time, be well.
Blessings,
Amy
