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Look. This week, I don’t have the words for much.
I’ve been writing for clients with a brave face on, but inside my heart fractures. I feel numb over Orlando—can’t eat much, can’t sleep, so tired. I want so badly to stuff it down, to pretend it’s not happening. In my hotel room on a small island in Thailand, red news reports flash from a TV screen, the reporters speaking in foreign tongues. I’ve been writing all my LGBTQ friends to tell them I love them.
I wanted to articulate something more than just my own shock this week; to write words that would comfort or empower, but when I went to type, I fell flat. And when I couldn’t do that, I thought I’d write something else that had nothing to do with it—just keep it business as usual.
But that felt blasphemous and wrong and totally not who I am. So.
First, here is a playlist I’ve been working on for a month called Dream Baby, Dream. It’s a compilation of songs that help me appreciate the depth of beauty the world still holds. I offer it to you unfinished and slightly disorganized (I’m very pristine about my playlists). It’s an imperfect gift.
And, for when you have the time, this is a poem by Robert Hass that has always made me feel less alone.
Here’s an excerpt from the whole thing, which you definitely should read, because it’s one of the most gorgeous things I’ve ever read.
“I had the idea, that the world’s so full of pain
it must sometimes make a kind of singing.
And that the sequence helps, as much as an order helps—
First and ego, and then pain, and then the singing” – Robert Hass
In fierce love and loyal solidarity,