Hool

I was at work: in my room, on my chair, at my desk, in a bad posture. I had gotten, during the week, to a sort of casual, accepting, automatic zombie brain: executing tasks, not being very present but also kind of peaceful about it. I was on my phone, I got the news there. The first article or post about it is always the most shocking, those words put together are so unsightly. Not emotional yet, but loud and flashy as an impact. A beautiful singer from my province dies in his thirties. Too young to expect that sort of news from him. I have to take a call, process a task. He was found in his apartment; it looks like a suicide even if nothing is confirmed yet. Everyone is aching, everyone is stunned. Online, I mean, because only a few of my colleagues would share the hurt of the news: I work for a big Canadian company, people are from all over the country, but not everyone in the country knows him. He was too big to be a local artist though. He was specific to his culture. I go about finishing my day.

He had not released any music in a while, he was not part of our daily lives or thoughts recently. It did not take long however to recall the feelings he left and had nourished in us, along with the love we have for him. He felt very personal. He was immensely talented. He was reaching the notes, musically and artistically, that we needed. He felt in service, like vitamins. Told us melodies that seemed to come from the part of us that is complicated, because of life, to believe in. He kept a lot of our dreams and fantasies alive: they feel more real and possible when they have a sound, therefore exist somehow in the world and can be emulated on those occasions we may have.

He was so beautiful. True beauty, expression. Energetically soft voice, a little bit child-like, incredibly touching. Very big eyes.

He had a sort of animal alias, the owl, he was known as such. On stage, on his album covers, in his videoclips, he had his ways to represent the animal: to represent himself as the animal. A lot of artists do that, at least where I am from. Especially musical artists, even more especially musical solo artists. There must be a lot of reasons to do so, I can only guess, as I have personally never felt very close to one in particular. I guess we know them from their behaviour, their habits, their fears, their reactions, their preys and predators. Animals also have a feeling to them, as they live through it, not having all of what us humans put in the way of it. Maybe it’s the research of a connexion with that feeling, a means of communications with it that makes an artist. When they get enough information from it, they might realise it’s similar to the one of a particular animal.

On social media, everyone’s tender words were about the owl, as if, in their pain, people evoked the direct energy of the one they miss. The words feel like a balm.

The past few years have been tough for us, collectively. It had been a long winter during which most of us turned to home for comfort. It had been a long time since an authentic societal event that could bring us development or nourishment had happened. It seemed the only quality that was to be found in observing ourselves as a group was to intellectually build an understanding on the complexity of being together as humans, and even that seemed to be always required urgently in defensiveness. It was necessary work, that is certainly good to keep in shape on, because collectivity sure needs to stay healthy, but it was cold and tiring.

In my shower, after having mechanically gone through all the steps that prevent me from getting behind in my week tonight, I think that I know that the only remaining thing in this last moment of the evening there is to do is to process the feeling inside of me. It was inside all day, sporadically appearing acutely while I was juggling with everything else. It is finally quiet, I can get in touch with it, feel and digest.

I put on his music, connect, send my thank you, soak. I look outside, it is snowing, and I don’t feel alone in what I'm living. I know that the people of this snow are grieving the same person and the same thing right now. We think of him and we think of what we are at the same time.

In this dimension we might have forgotten about, our truthful and passionate common space, we pay a respect to the beautiful owl that just made it its home forever.