Thoughts about Now
At home.
In the midst of cancellations, indefinite postponements, and Venmo tip jars, my heart breaks as I come to terms with the fact that live music is on extended sabbatical, perpetually held in the balance until 2021.
It is hard for me to fathom what exactly this means for me. For the past 42 days I've been trying to grapple with it, mostly because I never imagined a life without shows to go to, shows to play, shows to dream over and write about and analyze past the point of no return. I’m supposed to be writing a dissertation about music festivals...chapters were laid out, plans were made…and now I’m facing down the challenge of documenting an unprecedented and bleak period for musicians and live music venues.
I don’t know where to start. I’ve tried to write this post at least six times, and each time I’ve canned it. What do I say?
I’m still here, I’m still listening, I’m still watching via Facebook and Instagram (thanks so much for sharing music on that platform, those of you who have). I’m still writing, even though I’m not always sure where it’s going...
Like you, somedays I get out of bed as a pessimist. On these days, I see no light at the end of the tunnel, no way that small local venues and independent musicians, many already struggling to find footing, will make it through this unscathed. Like you, I feel totally overwhelmed, and the future seems grim. My big dreams—making a life out of being a musician, a writer, a college professor—feel impossible and stupid. I don’t always know what to do with myself under the strain of that.
But other days, like today, I get out of bed as an optimist. These are the days I try to write the most, to give the optimist a higher word count. Isolation has not been fun...but I’m incredibly grateful for the reset. In all honesty, I’m more rested than I’ve been in years right now. I’m learning to enjoy household chores and cooking again. The quiet and the solitude are bringing clarity, as I hope they are for you, too.
What matters most to you? When we are reminiscing about this weird year, in 5 or 10 or 50 years, where do you hope to be? What do you really want from your life? What do you really need to build happiness?
On my optimist days, I welcome now. In all this grief, I am learning what “acceptance” means. I accept that things will be lost in the rebirth, but at my core, I am hopeful. I believe that the creative and passionate ones will find new pathways for music-making, touring, show promotion, connecting musicians with fans...Things will not “return to normal,” but the new normal will be just as meaningful and beautiful as the way things used to be…
Here’s something I wrote out for myself recently, and I’ll use it to end this post. It’s not that novel, but it’s a reminder. It’s been a hell of a year already and we still don’t know how 2020 is going to conclude. Find ways to keep going after your big dreams, until it no longer feels impossible or stupid.
Nothing ever comes out right the first time, or even the twentieth time. It’s in the practice of showing up--an amalgamation of each attempt, each performance, each sentence--that everything will turn out perfect & right in the end.
Dancer at Look Around, Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, August 2020. Collage and photo by e. Varnado.
Elizabeth Varnado is a musician and writer living in Lexington, KY. She writes music on her own and as a member of Lylak. She is currently pursuing a PhD in ethnomusicology at the University of Kentucky, with research focusing on live music and music festivals.