ONE YEAR
As the one-year anniversary of the coronavirus lockdown in the United States passes us by this week, I’ve had a lot of conversations with people discussing where we were a year ago, reminiscing about how little we seemed to know and the strange things everyone was doing as the world came to a quarantined halt. We chuckle about the sudden dearth of toilet paper and flour from supermarket shelves. We shake our heads about the confused and mixed advice about the importance of masks at the beginning of all of this. However, being that we are still in the throes of this pandemic, it feels a bit soon to me to be looking at any of this experience with a sense of hindsight.
One year ago, I was in the midst of moving my partner into what is now our apartment – a plan we had concocted months earlier. As we unpacked his boxes and got him settled into our place, I watched the news knowing that this lock down was not going to just last a couple of weeks. As the country shut down, I saw the potential for how long this might last, knowing that it could last for a year or more. I thought about what that would portend for music, and I found myself staring my greatest fears in the face.
I’ve always had the keen awareness that a life in music is a fragile existence, especially as a singer. All it takes is one bad cold to prevent a whole series of concerts from happening. Last year, as performance after performance was canceled, I found myself confronted with the nightmare that terrifies me most: my work, my income, my livelihood all vaporizing into thin air. I normally grapple with these anxious demons by affirmation: I am constantly reminding myself to have faith that the opportunities will keep appearing. This year, that has been more challenging than ever before.
When I think back on the past twelve months, they have really been a giant test of faith. Faith that there will be another side to this. Faith that the music will keep going, and that the opportunities will continue to flow. As the pandemic has worn on, it’s been so easy to succumb to doubt, depression, and despair. But as low as I have sunk in those moments, perhaps some of the lowest I’ve ever experienced, I have been astounded at how I have been able to emerge on the other side with a sense of renewed hope. Having walked through these dark, terrifying tunnels, I also feel liberated. Unburdened from the shackles of some of my darkest fears, I am finding I am able to fly creatively, free to soar in ways I never imagined I could.
Faith restored and feeling free, I’m excited to see what comes next, and what wonderful opportunities are waiting for me and for all of us on the other side of this. Enough looking backward – I’m more curious about the future and the wonders it holds.