The whole thing is very strange. And very lonely honestly. We miss the smiles, the feel of real humans with us as we play. The pregnant silence before the applause. The sigh. The tearful confessions of healing and love that comes after. This is the balm, the salve upon the chaffing, that comes from the hours of practice; the nights under a single lamp laboring to bring the new song into the world, the dedicated days of scales and committing motions to muscle memory. We miss your hearts connecting to ours in real-time, the way they synchronize with each other.
Somehow there must be a way to carry on this shaman-like work. We must find a way to save music and save our selves from this separation. The irony is not lost that this virus has the same name as what breaks in us now right now. The same name as what is being asked to grow in our collective character. We suspect this virus is apply named, and here to help us connect to our souls' true nature, to empathy, and to the wisdom that caring for others is caring for self. Pray that it happens soon.
