Beginning Again
Maybe I felt insensitive during the most secluded moments of the pandemic, maybe there was too much chaos amidst the silence… maybe it was the fear of the unknown… maybe it's because my muse had disappeared into a void, leaving me creatively helpless. Whatever it was, my writing escaped me—my ability to express myself through words, escaped me.
And now, as our world begins to open up again, the words are returning to the forefront of my mind.
When the first S.I. was released, panic ensued. Our borders were closed. Our waters were closed. Most businesses closed, and the tourists left.
No alcohol, the S.I. read, so we drank homemade berry wine. No swimming, the S.I. read, so we snuck across the sandy street to our pier, where we slid into the water, hoping not to get caught.
For three months, I’d move from my drafting table, to my balcony, to my veranda, to my rooftop, to the grounds, to my bedroom, all within a 20 foot radius, just trying to experience some kind of movement.
It’s difficult to recall the exact details regarding the island “opening up” because it happened in stages, and then we locked down again, and then opened up again. And while it’s difficult to recall the details, the feelings that overwhelmed me, I’ll never forget. The sound of the silence, I’ll never forget.
At the height of the pandemic, the island returned to an untouched paradise and nature thrived. The sky lit by the constellations informed us when a new season was approaching. It was an opportunity to turn inward and reflect without noise, but there was so much chaos in the silence.
It was a struggle. Every day was a new adventure where survival was key. Rum. We drank a lot of rum, mixed with water from the coconuts bore by our trees.
I spent moments tuned into my art, and moments so tuned out that I disconnected with myself, with my vision, with my passion.
Those are the things I remember—anxiety stricken overwhelm, peppered with moments of hope and grace.
For whatever reason our world was riddled with so much grief during the pandemic, and I believe that this is the time to reflect, while we’re existing within this moment of quiet before the storm. This is the time to inhale intentions of how we envision our post pandemic world to take shape, and exhale all of the uncertainties and grief that we were smothered by over the past year.
And maybe there is a reason why my muse left my side during the heavy silence, maybe there is a reason why I wasn’t inspired to recount every detail of my experience. Perhaps it would have been insensitive to make my experience seem more noteworthy than anyone else’s, but I am certain that now is the time, not to return to the past, but to begin again.