the chrysalis is now - an applause

a transitional state, how to emerge from emergency, from crisis to chrysalis?

i’ve always fantasised about the apocalypse but now that the veil upon us is lifting and uncovering the truths, surrealism sets in. i play the role of the helpless healer; with my two hands how much energy can i create to cradle the whole world? not enough, and i must be aware not to drain myself. i remind myself that my hands can build and my hands can love, and my hands can hold hands with others virtually, and together we can all try to cradle each other, even 6ft apart.

so first we try to breathe, then we try to be. but how can we be when the whole fabric of our society as we knew it is being pulled apart.

its like we built this system with strands of synthetic string and theres a fire in the hallway and we have to to either run through naked or let our clothes set alight.

so i take off my clothes, the burdens given to me to cover up my truths. i already saw through many of these illusions but now the fire is spreading and the trails of oil they spilled, spelling out parts of our existence that have been hidden in the shadows for so long are burning bright.

they can stand outside their mansions and use their right hand to clap their left hand and make a sound that resembles an applause to show gratitude for the very thing that probably bore them into this world, yet these right hands have been wronging this service for years, in their right hands, wielding blades and slashing funds to these life sustaining practices, the National Healers Strangled by the right hand of politics, the right hands of men that know not how to weave organic strands into tapestries, blankets, face masks and scrubs.

sew now with their right hands belatedly providing personal protective equipment to the people on the ‘frontline of this war’… why are we still using war rhetoric to fight an invisible biological killer when their is another enemy, the very battlefield itself. so when our nurses, our carers, our supermarket workers and royal-mail deliverers lay to rest at the foot of this new monarchy, the crowned virus rapidly colonising the fleshy bodies, the right hand will shamelessly light a candle in in their big houses in memory of our lost troops as if these people were a disposable army essential in our fight of this war.

no, these people did not enlist in an army against a virus, these people are the life blood of our system— whose left hands stacked shelves, risked dog bites through letterboxes, spoon fed our elders, cared for the sick, will there even be medals for our key workers when this is all over?

either way, a medal can’t stop a virus spreading. our MPs are being given an extra £10,000 to work from home but our key workers are still facing this virus everyday, with little or no protection.

so i’m standing outside my mum’s bungalow in a cul-de-sac in the north of england, with her right hand she holds a sign she’s made from old cardboard and a water-coloured rainbow of thanks to the NHS. her left hand weakened when the storm hit her brain 3 years ago, a stroke that left her left side paralysed for months, with the help of the scouse nurses and god’s (universal, non-secular god) light she healed. her left side may be weak in muscles but its strong in politics, and the neurones in her brain re-routed/re-rooted, brain plasticity, creating nu-neural pathways. finding a different way to survive.

thats what we are all doing right now. finding a different way to survive. changing our patterns. our daily commute might now consist of more trips to the sink to rub the soap into our skin and wash away our fears with water. i rub my left hand with my right hand and give thanks that i have a place to cleanse, feeling the privilege of running water, to use these moments of ritual to reset, resist.

did you know your neighbours before you saw their faces outside clapping? we are distancing socially but it feels like more of us are in touch with the community on our doorstep then we possibly had before. Mutual aid begins at home, like a virus, kindness spreads across communities every time medicine needs picking up, groceries need delivering or a kind phone call is to be made. now more than ever we can feel how connected our bodies on this earth are. Not just digitally, but we become more aware of our tender, fleshy, fragile bodies and the interconnection between us and people we once saw as strangers.

i still feel a bit uncomfortable about this whole clapping thing when there are literal nurses dying from lack of personal protective equipment. but there is some magic in this offering. to all acknowledge a moment, a time, to pause our days to go outside and greet the faces we only see through windows, and all across the land, people are using both hands — left, and right, to create a vibration, a pulse, a beat. it is a very strange and powerful thing. but magic is only manifest when action is taken; we have got to do the work.

when we emerge from this chrysalis, the PPE known as our ego is must shed.

we must take forward the incredible efforts of community after this pandemic, mutual aid is a term in everyone’s lexicon now, it is a concept that must leech into all areas of our living existence. so we must show up for our disabled friends, just like we showed up for our neighbour who needed milk and was self isolating. we must make accessibility our key focus when we are able to meet again, we are no longer strangers to live streaming so we have no excuse to not zoom in our friends to our spaces so as to not be the able-bodied gatekeepers of knowledge and experience.

[Greek] panˈdɛmɪk/ pan - all dēmos- people — you are not alone in this. we are all connected.

its okay if you haven’t learnt and new skill in lockdown, or read the mountain of books you’ve been sitting on, or written that symphony that has been echoing around in your dreams because time is not linear and grieving is a cycle and like the tides you rise and you retreat but I promise you i will clap with both my astral hands and applause your work if i hear your symphony while i’m sleeping.