It has been a year and a half… 18 months… roughly 550 days… since the world as we know it came to a screeching halt and a lust for toilet paper overtook the land and ended that urge to go out and TP somebodies house. Not my first choice of things to stockpile. But those first few months did drive home to me the idea that there is a very real limit to what any of us can stockpile, or hoard might be a better, though harsher, word. Though we certainly need to obtain food on a fairly frequent basis… things expire, get eaten, get stale., etc.
I get tired of thinking about it…. but I still have to do it and the fragile nature of all things became much clearer to me as I watched things unfold in those harrowing past months.
What kept me going, besides great companionship, was the creative impulse, that part of me that needs to see the world through fresh eyes and to tell its stories in song. To feel that I am not alone in my thinking and to, hopefully, offer some succor to my fellow travelers on this increasingly shrinking planet. I don’t mean by writing pandemic songs, necessarily, but by continuing to tell stories that I find compelling, or human, or… I hate to say worthy as we all have worthy stories to tell… but perhaps that have a universality to them. Not sure. I just keep trying to get better every day and to be invisible inside the songs.