I am writing this on Sunday, March 29th or, as it is now known, Day 17 of The After.
Your personal quarantine calendar might reflect a different count. In the interest of adopting a universal system, I propose that March 12th — the day most North American orchestras announced cancellations — be hereby considered Day 0. Accordingly, this makes March 13th — the first full day we were banished to the couch — Day 1.
“I was a horn player in The Before...”
Yes, I’ve been jokingly referring to this time we’re living in as “The After” (and everything prior as “The Before”) because, as tough as times may be, we have to laugh. We have to find humor and levity in this bizarre and difficult moment. People need to laugh — want to laugh — even in the midst of the worst.
That being said, the past 17 days have been scary.
They’ve also been boring. And they’ve been draining. And they’ve been filled with these long days that have each somehow packed a year’s worth of news in the span of a few hours.
And how have I eaten so many snacks? And, seriously, how did we not know about the insane world of tiger zoo owners before now?!
I’ve never felt simultaneously so hopeless and hopeful.
So empty and yet so overwhelmed.
So defeated and yet so fortunate.
So disconnected from the world and yet so much more connected than ever before.
17 days. In any other circumstance, even just two or three days of being stuck in my apartment alone with no concerts to prepare or places to go would make me incredibly productive. In these 17 days though, I have done so, so, so very little. It’s almost admirable — just how much nothing I’ve managed to do.
And then I see all of the videos.
This person recorded the entirety of Mahler 3 on the Acapella app, playing every instrument’s part in the score on her bassoon. She is doing one Mahler symphony per day. Next week: Messiaen.
This person is offering free baroque horn lessons on Zoom to all of the patients of all the children’s hospitals of the world.
This entire neighborhood is playing a 7-hour version of Bolero on their balconies in solidarity with all of the hospital workers coming home from work and trying to get a little sleep.
It’s incredible, really.
I joke but it really is beautiful.
If you’re one of these people, pushing yourself daily to keep honing your craft and expressing yourself through your art and sharing it with the world — please know that I am not at all implying that what you’re doing is anything other than positive and wonderful. Please keep doing what you’re doing. It is nourishing, encouraging, and inspiring.
I just personally don’t feel so inclined to do the same.
And some of you reading this might not either.
And it’s totally ok.
This is a weird, difficult, stressful time. There are so many layers to the discomfort and uncertainty we are feeling. People are worried about their health, their families, their careers, their rent, their whole understanding of the world… it’s a lot! It’s ok.
From talking to many of you, I know that some of you really need to hear it right now… so I want to reiterate it again… for myself as well…
It’s ok.
It’s ok to not write the next great American novel right now. It’s ok to not prepare an audition that may or may not happen in six months. It’s ok to not capitalize on every last second of free time you have. It’s ok to feel totally uninspired and unmotivated right now. It’s ok to feel sad, scared, depressed, or whatever you feel. Really. It’s ok.
In the first few days of this — The After ;-) — I swung wildly between watching the news paralyzed in shock and telling myself, “This is my time! I will meditate every hour, practice French, read, learn new skills, and come out of this a better and wiser human!”
Yeah, no. That has not been the case.
Over the past couple days though, I’ve finally stopped spending — uh, tremendous — amounts of time watching White House press briefings and reading the news. I am setting more small daily goals and limitations for myself. There can actually be a balance! I don’t know who needs to hear this, but there are more options than writing a symphony or spending 12 hours solving the murder of Carole Baskin’s husband. (Although the latter really shouldn’t take you that long…)
This will all end at some point.
We don’t know when that will be or what that will look like — but at some point, we will not live in isolation like this. But for now, this is life. So what can we do with it?
An unconventional proposal
This is going to sound weird coming from me — someone who wrote a book on planning and goals:
I propose shifting away from setting overzealous goals and holding a yardstick to yourself right now. It’s good and healthy to set some smaller daily goals — like limiting screen time and getting some fresh air every day — but let’s let the foot off the gas a bit on the world records and screenplays. Instead, focus on introspection. Now is the time. Ask these questions of yourself, then decide on the quarantine goals or projects you want to set for yourself, if any. Your discoveries might surprise you. Your new goals might surprise you even more.
What am I learning about myself?
What am I learning about the people in my life?
What am I learning about my values?
What am I learning about my career?
What am I grateful for in all of this?
What am I struggling with right now?
Are there any silver linings?
If there was one positive takeaway I could get from this entire time, what would it be?
***
This isolated way of living is almost starting to feel normal at times. Some days, I start to get used to the routine of not having a routine — only to be totally overwhelmed by the uncertainty of it all a few hours later. As silly and petty as I know it is to say, this global pandemic could not have had worse timing in my life. Or maybe it could not have had better timing… after all, I’m learning a lot about myself.
Maybe this all seems melodramatic. Maybe it is. And maybe too, in your city and from your vantage point in life, this hasn’t become as serious as it has here and for me and my friends. Although, for many of you, maybe it’s much more serious.
It’s worth noting that the first draft of this essay was a lot darker.
That was Day 12 Rachelle, melting down my mutes for scrap metal on the black market.
It quickly turned into a commentary on the future of viable careers in performing arts. It was… bleak. But it’s something we do need to open a discussion about… and soon. The future of classical music is changing. The future of everything is changing. It’s something I want to explore further here. But for now… that might be too lofty a goal for Day 17.
Be safe.
Be well.
Sanitize your groceries.