Like so many people, I am enraptured by the musical of Hamilton. Seeing it live in San Francisco was one of the last things I did before the quarantine times. I find that I’m treasuring so many things I did before we had to shut our lives down. I’m so glad that I made the choices to see family, to hear music, to celebrate, to go out to eat, and to be with people I love. And teaching face to face. And hugging. Sigh. I’m not pining away for the old days because I truly understand that we’re in a new world now, and I’m certain that hugging will come back, but I’m remembering things that sustained me then and calling on them to sustain me now. This courageous musical is one of them.
Alexander Hamilton’s life was both triumphant and tragic. He was extraordinary and survived terrible circumstances, but he also knew who he was and his place in history. He knew he could make a difference in the new world that was being created. In the second act, his son is killed in a duel and the song The Unimaginable was sung. Throughout all of the grand things that he and others did, it was the personal loss that caused him to find his humanity and empathy. It’s a song of tenderness and kindness, with people urging one another to “have pity on him, he is going through the unimaginable.” It has stayed with me as I hear the daily reports of the Covid virus, the number of people dying, the marches for social justice, the invasion of federal soldiers on the streets of Portland, the debate over wearing masks, and the general disbelief that this is our country. It takes me out of anger and frustration and allows me to hone in on the personal changes that we’re all going through; privileged and underprivileged. We are going through the unimaginable. There are many lessons for us to learn and accept right now. Where do we go with all of this? Do we turn on each other or do we turn toward each other? We are seeing people succumb to fear and anger, but we don’t have to be that person.
The play brings up many of the challenges of how people survived in a very difficult time. For us, we can’t rely on the old ways to handle things. It seems to me that the way inward is the way forward now. In our aloneness, we can get in touch with the feelings of loss, fear, and worry from the daily dose of bad news. We can let ourselves grieve for all of the big and small losses in our lives. We can dig deep and find our warrior selves through our practices. We can provide a haven for our families to share their feelings. We can examine our views on how things “should” be and learn that the old rules aren’t serving everyone. We can share our wealth and support for those who are struggling to survive. Then, we can begin to reach out to others who can help us in some way through emotional support. It’s so necessary to be there for one another now: to create pods of caring, bubbles of communication, circles of outreach, structures of strength, and reliable sources of information and truth.
That is my wish for you in these times - to hold onto hope. We are living in a time of “ambiguous loss” where things are topsy-turvy. We must reach to each other for help and meaning. We’ll have ups and downs and lots of bad days, but there is a deeper spirit that can give perspective. It’s our job now to pay attention.
In community,
Susan