Breathe... You're Almost Home
"In the quiet of a shadow In the corner of a room Darkness moves upon you Like a cloud across the moon You're aware in all the silence Of a constant that will turn Like the windmill left deserted Or the sun forever burn So, don't forget to breathe Don't forget to breathe Your whole life is here No eleventh-hour reprieve So, don't forget to breathe Keep your head above water But don't forget to breathe" – Alexi Murdoch, “Breathe”
It’s been a week from hell, this past week or few. Normally, I would breathe through it but I’m barely keeping my head above water, myself this week. I'm usually really good about rolling with the punches; I've had a lot of punches in my life so, I've learned how to roll. Actually, I call it rolling, but it’s been more like martial art break falls most of the time. This week, I’m not breaking my falls very well. This week, I’m taking the punches. This week I’m breaking from the falls. This week, I’m barely breathing.
I've also tried to leave a lot of things to divine intervention and decided that when something happens, there must be a reason. You know, like if I got a flat tire that day, maybe that was somebody stopping me from getting into a collision up ahead. Or, if my bike wasn't working it was because I was going to get into a bike accident or something of the like. But, after the couple weeks that I've had I'm starting to wonder what kind of divine craziness this all-powerful, omnipotent being has in store for me. Or, do they just have a sick sense of humour; because everything that could go wrong has.
It's literally been a week or so of rapid-fire attacks, of one thing right after the other; shooting me down every time I take a step ahead or, feel like I'm going to succeed in some way or another. I know it’s all seemingly small and insignificant things in the grand scheme but after weeks of; green pools, replacement pumps, flat bike tires and replacement tubes and tires, water damage and replacement drywall (needed but still not done). After a week of abuse by those I tried to help. A week full of misconception, missed connections, miscommunication and missing… just missing; people, places and things. A week of no balance. Mistaken movement. Missed stillness. A week, or more of trying to catch my breath. Of holding my breath.
All in less than two weeks. In fact, the whole month has been challenging but I’ve been rolling with it. Changing, altering, modifying; as is the story of my life. But it all came to a head today with a panic attack, ugly crying and a feeling of drowning; like I can’t breathe. I need to breathe.
I need to breathe through it but I’m tired. I'm just so tired. I'm tired; of this virus and its consequences, of shitty decision-making by our government that’s caused a giant rift with the other humans, here in Canada. I'm tired of this fucking country, and it’s idiocy. I'm tired of how people are treating one another. I'm tired of realizing that this is going to be the new normal, in the new way that people deal with one another and with everything around them. That it’s going to be the way that humanity survives this. If they survive this, their humanity certainly won’t.
I’m tired of being right about how humanity would (and has) erode(d); just as I saw that it would throughout this. I’m tired of people shaming one another. Tired of people being ugly to one another. Tired of all of the armchair experts, and their differing opinions; but all who think they’re right. Tired of them blaming and shaming. I'm just so fucking tired. And, I want to escape.
“Don't forget to breathe You know you are here But you find you want to leave So don't forget to... breathe Just breathe...” – Alexi Murdoch, “Breathe”
I do want to leave. I want to escape all of this, and leave it all behind. I want to escape to the Scottish Highlands. Anywhere in Scotland, really. To a secluded stone cottage somewhere on the ocean, away from all of this. On an island in the Shetlands, maybe? Away from it all. Away from the people, places and things that suck the life out of me; that steal my peace. Because I'm done. I’m done with this place and these things. I’m done with the ‘we’re all in this together’ lip service; and actions to the contrary. When it comes down to it, it’s really just ‘all for one’ but not ‘one for all’. And I’m done. I’m done with this country. I’m done with humanity’s lack of humanness. I’m done with all the troubles. I’m done with caring. With trying. And with holding my breath, waiting. Mostly, I’m done with waiting. I’m tired of treading water. And I’m tired of holding my breath while I do. I’m done with feeling like I’m drowning. I need to move. I need to swim. I need to breathe. Just breathe.
I wrote this blog post and then, like I most often do, went looking for a song that better described how I was feeling. Which is how I found the Song, “Breathe”, by Scottish Folk Singer, Alexi Murdoch. And, after hearing this song, found other songs by him that I can only describe as ‘my songs’. Listening to his songs, looking through his Fbook page and IG profile, I felt a deep sense of connection to this complete stranger; a fellow traveler. So, I reached out to him. This is what I wrote:
“I found a song by you today, while trying to find a song for a blog post I was writing. I had never heard of you, and yet, I felt like you were singing to me. Or, at the very least, expressing what I was having difficulty doing, myself. Music is a huge part of my life. It's my self-care. My creative inspiration. My coping. My dreaming. I use music in every one of my blog posts, about my wellness journey. Many songs have resonated deeply with me. Many artists have touched my soul. But there was something about yours... that I can't put my finger on. Something that seems to come from another person who's led a solitary existence. A solitary existence caused by the depth of compassion within you that keeps you at arm’s length from others around you because caring too much might break you in half. Because the empathy that creates within you, the desire to make the world a better place, also finds you desiring self-protection. Desiring solitude. Solitude, in which you create; and create beautiful art that inspires and touches others in ways that you could not inspire and touch them, did you not have that solitude. Art that, cannot be contrived but has to be lived, experienced and felt. Strange as this message might be... I just wanted to say that I got that from your music. Be well my fellow traveler.
Cheers... Slàinte Mhaith Linda”
After I wrote this, I felt a sense of hope; one that I’d been missing and seeking for well over a year. One that I needed, not only to get through the difficulties of this past week/month/year, but one that I needed to get out the dark place I was in today. Hope, for a better humanity once this thing was all over and done with. Hope, that I would finally connect with the right person/people, and be in the right place, in the time I was meant to be there. Hope, that I could have all of the things and feel all of the feelings that these songs, by this fellow traveler invoked within me. After all of this, I’m still tired. But not in the way I was before I went down the Alexi Murdoch rabbit hole. I’m still tired but it’s not an in my bones tired like it was before. I’m still tired but I have an overwhelming sense of hopefulness. A sense of peace and hope for better days ahead. Hope, that I now know, will see me through to the end of all of this. A hope that will finally bring me 'home'.
To a place that, even if it’s not that stone cottage on the ocean, in Scotland; with the one soul on that planet that truly gets me, a place that feels like that every day. In every way. A place that feels like the dream come true. A place on the water, instead of underneath it. A place where the air is salty and the company is not. A place where I am no longer tired, and the state of the world around me doesn’t make my bones ache with sadness every day. A place where I can not only breathe but can take a deep, life-altering and life-affirming breath every day of my life from there on in.
A place that, after so many years of walking, on my own, truly feels like I’ve made it ‘home’.