"My Battery Is Low And It's Getting Dark" A Tale Of Pandemic Epiphanies

Something I never want to be done with 

I've made it quite known, over and over, that pandemics are my number one fear. But what happens if I had let that go? I've had deep seeded fears that have long wreaked havoc on my psyche, toying with my mental stability. I know, I'm preaching to the choir because more likely than not, you're dealing with some bullshit too. You know what I mean then.

I also expound on my complete love for music. It touches me, it moves me, it moves me through time and space. To say its the language of my soul is an understatement. I oftentimes find that the only way to express how I feel is by how a song moves me. The correlation is strong, and which is why I share music constantly with those around me. They tell the tale easier than I can most of the time.

I combine the dread of the pandemic, with my love for music and a need for sanctity. I drive to the ocean to enjoy some solitude. With backpack in tow, headphones and all the writing accouterments I could ever need, I make my way down to the sea.

I'm the type to binge a song on repeat. The last five months has been no different. From 'Fireworks' by First Aid Kit, to 'First' by Cold War Kids, I ended up binging on Manchester Orchestra. It began with 'The Moth' and then I stumbled upon 'The Silence'. This is where I am. This is where I will be; lost in the trenches of this song. If there was ever a song for realization and existential crisis, this would be it. But I mean this is in the most positive manner. I promise. This song makes me feel small, but mighty. It makes me think, and most importantly, feel.

Then I kick it into overdrive and binge it at the beach.

Holy shit. The other day as I sat there by myself, I was moved to tears. I sat there and cried. I gave zero fucks if someone walked by me or not; nor did I care if I whimpered. It was the release I needed. I have been worried sick about sending my child back to school. Sick over whether or not I'll get grad school funded for. Exhausted over the fact that there's so much uncertainty. Drained because of the state of the world. My shoulders are broad, but they aren't that broad to bear this load.

My eyes gazed out to sea, as they gazed from near to far, and back to near. The gentle lapping waves thump against the rocks. I could barely hear them over the music, but I heard them nevertheless. The rushing of the incoming tide, with the marching beat of the song quickly pushes my mind to the recesses of understanding. I feel hopeless, minute, and insignificant. I feel broken, unable to do the things my heart yearns for. For a fleeting moment, I believed these things to be true for me. But something happened. What that "something" is, I don't know. Believe me if I knew, I'd replicate the process. I'd patent it and sell it to everyone for peace of mind. But I don't, and while all I have is the results, I'll work with that. There was a moment that the pieces snapped together and worked. Almost like a chaotic M.C. Escher tessellation, things just finally fell into place, regardless of how cliche that sounds. There was reasoning and  understanding.

I cried again.


I think I let things, or fears go. I think because I know I still hold fears, but there's something now missing from those few things that drive fear deep down into my heart. Maybe it's survivor's guilt in regards to the pandemic, maybe its some higher level of oscillation, who knows. I think in that moment, that was one the closest moments I've gotten to a religious 'come to Jesus' like event. Albeit a god moment, or a spiritual moment, I was moved. I know this sounds weird, but I immediately thought of the movie Stigmata. (Disclaimer: this oddball spiritualist/questioning chick loves religious movies. Even better if they have some creepy aspects. They scare the hell out of me. Pun intended)



I went from being in the dark; the low light hanging, threatening to be extinguished, to full illumination and understanding of that I needed to let go of. And I did. I just let go. No caution to the wind, no reluctance, just a sweet release. I held on to it as long as I could, but before I knew it, it was gone. And I was okay with it.

A few days later, I talked a dear friend into some lunar tanning with me. You know, sitting at the beach at night watching the ocean and the stars. If you've never done this, you are not living. You need to. Bonus points if you can catch the bioluminescence.

With towels in hand, we sat on the rocks. The beach was empty, or nearly empty, as we settled in. He knows I go to this beach often, and I always call it "my beach" although that's far from the truth. Shocked that he's never been there before, I hoped for a beautiful evening.

We got lost in conversation, as dusk moved to dark, the stars became visible. Shooting stars started with a green tail fanfare, which set the scene for the rest of the evening. We sat there for hours talking about random things, important things, heavy things, dorky things, and anything in between. It was exactly what I needed. I think it was what he needed too. Whatever level of need was there, it was molded by company and the sea.

I don't know if the sea holds this type of magic for you, but I pray that it does.


"You were reeling from reemergence, a rebirth by force. You rose from the fire then loved by the sea.You were forged of fire and flames. Like a phoenix, you are intense by nature; too much for some. Only those who play with heat and fire know how to tame your heart, but the ocean will always be your home." ~kd

'The Silence' by Manchester Orchestra. This has been in repeat for nearly two weeks now. You should do the same. And yes, I shall consider this normal.