Subject: Please Don't Take My Breath Away
Shortly after the beginning of the pandemic, which is to say, the woefully delayed U.S. lockdown portion of the pandemic, I started doing daily YouTube yoga videos. It is with more than a small amount of self-consciousness that I admit I am one of the millions of subscribers to Yoga with Adriene, even though the practice has probably been the most effective tool I’ve had for maintaining a modicum of mental (and physical) health. It was her dog, Benji, that really sucked me in—I didn’t even like Adriene at first; I absolutely told Adriene to fuck off several times in the first couple weeks. In particular, having a thin, white, conventionally attractive, impossibly flexible woman tell me to love my body exactly as it is right now rankled. Nevertheless, something about the dog, and the musical theater jokes, and the relentless encouragement of self-acceptance seemed to stick, and now here I am, 6 months later, working my way through videos with titles like “Yoga for Inner Space Travel” and “Yoga to Awaken the Artist Within.”
In April, Adriene reminded me that the breath comes first, as a mysterious virus wrecked havoc on respiratory systems and overwhelmed capacity for hospital ventilators globally. In May, Adriene told me to anchor in my breath and make it my priority, but George Floyd was given no such opportunity when he was brutally murdered by police officers. In July, I listened to Adriene say when in doubt, return to the breath, as Portland surpassed 50 consecutive days of police officers blanketing protestors and houseless folks downtown in clouds of tear gas, a substance known to cause long-term respiratory damage and complications. In September, Adriene let me know that all I had to do was bring the breath, but it was hard to do because most of the west coast was covered in thick, unbreathable smoke from the raging wildfires.
Maya Angelou has been widely misattributed with the quote, “Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take but by the moments that take your breath away.” If she was not already rolling in her grave from being credited with a saying whose provenance might well be the Home Good’s “Live Laugh Love” Department, her spirit might yet haunt us now that the quote has gone from merely trite to wildly inappropriate. It might seem like I’m coming to some sort of epiphany here, but I’m not. If I had some kind of answer to explain the vast systems of systemic racism, the prison-industrial complex, colonialism, and capitalist exploitation, you can be assured that I would not just be sitting on it.
This quote did not age well in 2020
I don’t have the answer, and I don’t think anyone does, but I do believe some people have bits and pieces of it. If you aren’t already, read (more) Black writers. Listen to (more) Black voices. Follow (more) Black leaders. And dammit, keep fighting for Black lives. Vote, but don’t let your engagement and your outrage and your involvement end there. If you live in Portland, I’m writing in Teresa Raiford for mayor, and I think you should, too. Not only do we need more Black leadership, but she has been fighting along with Don’t Shoot PDX for years, without anyone’s permission or approval. To me, there’s no better sign that she would use her influence and power as mayor to actually fight the long racist legacy that’s still alive and well in this city, and to have the guts to stand up to the police union.
One of my other pandemic hobbies has been learning about tarot. I’ve been listening to the podcast “Tarot for the End of Times,” which, in spite of the name, is surprisingly affirming. In the very first episode, host Sarah Cargill talks about the etymology of the word apocalypse, from the Greek apokalupsis, meaning to uncover or reveal. Through her lens, we are indeed living through apocalyptic times, but that might not be a bad thing. Honestly, when a Black queer femme wants to tell me that right now we all have unprecedented potential to make the world a better place, I’m here to listen.
So many of the negative and oppressive structures at work in the world today are being revealed in a more raw and intense way than ever before, at least, than they ever have been in our lifetimes. What we could rightfully look at as a perfect storm of hopelessness and isolation also contains vast potential energy for positive social change. For one, the protests sparked by the murders of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor continue with a longevity that is in part enabled by the high unemployment rates due to COVID-19. (Please, for the love of all that is good, do not think that I believe this justifies a single atrocity or death, because it does not.) But I do believe that we have so much more power than we think we do, and all these unjust systems are currently vulnerable and exposed.
I hope to start writing these newsletters more regularly again, because I would like to reach out across the void and connect with all of you. I was recently thinking about what first drew me to both reading and writing, and I realized that it was in large part isolation. As an only child with a single working parent (and subpar social skills), books and journals and stories were the ways I most often found companionship and connection. I still believe the written word is the most intimate medium, and I hope it brings me closer to you. Please don’t be shy if you’d like to write me back.
Listen to “Tarot for the End of Times” on anchor.fm
Ask a Gecko
Dear Gecko, I’ve been struggling a lot with hopelessness lately. How do I keep myself from giving in to despair? Sincerely, Very Over Intense Despondence
Dear VOID, The gecko knows that when the sun sets, a white ceramic dish full of bugs may appear at his doorstep. And if it does not, he does not despair, for it may come tomorrow. And if it does not come the next day, he again bides his time. On the third day, he waits eagerly and stands at the gates of his home, full of desire and expectation. If, once again, the white dish does not descend, he retreats to the coolest cavern and allows his metabolism to slow, and there he waits.
Perhaps what feels like hopelessness is just a slowing down, so that you still have the energy to strike when the shining white circle appears on the horizon.