My Pandemic Year
Låst March I was in the process of prepping the garden, which I do every year.
I don’t party or socialize a lot, so the pandemic meant I’d have to stay in more often.
My interests can be seen in the art and writings that come through me. I am an observer.
I observed naturally active young people sit at home watching a Black man being suffocated
to death, on their mobile screens. Young folks don’t sit and watch. They act.
Then I observed all colors and sexual persuasions in the streets protesting the ongoing acts
Donald Trump appeared as a gift to us all, in different ways. We have heard over and over that people
of color were/are suffering the most. Not an inkling about that from Mr. Trump or his administration. His messages were “Let’s make America great again, keep THEM out, support the police and get back to work”.
The evolvement of the young people hasn’t been clearer to me then now, during this time
of unnecessary deaths versus the need to generate more capital for the few.
This pandemic may help clear the way to a culture that serves more than just the few.
Of course, I know and always say, change is the only constant.
Sometimes the greatest gifts may be seeded in the worst tragedies. This Covid-19 pandemic has caused
me to listen, hear, trust and to act on what comes through. I feel a lot more empathy and compassion
for folks that have lost loved ones and are less fortunate than I am.
I am used to communicating on stage as someone else or from the privacy of my home, writing
and creating art. The current happenings have caused me to look deeper inside and to have a willingness
to receive and share more outside.
More and more, I respond to that intuitive voice,
and here I am.
My Pandemic Year