Okay, so, I know it’s been a while. I’m still writing. Still struggling. I’m still battling resistance in many forms. Still looking for connections that inspire. Still healthy, for now. Things have been good. Things have been bad. The whole world is pretty much a shit show atm. If I’m being honest, I was hoping for a zombie apocalypse, but this post isn’t about the state of the world today. I found something I want to share.
Let me start over.
This is the perfect moment. As much uncertainty and worry and stress and stupidity as exists in the world right now, it doesn’t matter, because right now is perfect.
One of the bands I’ve recently become infatuated with is Young the Giant. Years ago, I purchased “Mind Over Matter” on iTunes and haven’t tired of it. Since then, I’ve been listening to them here and there without any conviction, until now. After I watched the “Superposition” video 85 times, YouTube suggested I watch the “In the Open” series, and I’m hooked. Basically, the guys go random places and perform their songs in live, mostly unplugged sessions out and about in the world, and it’s fucking great. At the top of some hills in soCal. In a tunnel. Next to a pond. I haven’t heard most of these songs, but “Guns Out” is good. You can’t not love Sameer Gadhia’s voice. This is perfect writing music.
To me, right now, this music encapsulates a perfect moment. I am surrounded by my family. The girls are making gnocchi. Their dad is supervising. The boys are playing video games. Everyone is together and everyone is happy, and I am content.
I’ve probably had a million perfect moments in my life, but I hardly ever have the presence of mind to recognize them. I do remember watching a gentle rain on my carport. There was a starry night on a roof under the stars in the middle of El Paso. Holding my children, at any and every age, for two seconds or two hours, is perfection. I’ve also felt utter and absolute despair. Heartbreak, the slow and painful kind as well as the bandaid-getting-ripped-off kind. And I, just once, entertained the idea that I might not live to see another day. Perhaps you'd disagree, but I'd argue this is also perfection, albeit of a different sort, and worth pursuing.
Anyway, fuck this shit. Just do what I tell you—put this music on, forget about what’s going on outside and write, draw or paint. Or make gnocchi. Or wash dishes. Or just whatever you are doing while you’re distancing and sheltering in place and under lockdown and quarantined.
J. L. Dodd
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