Waiting 2

acrylic on canvas

16 X 20”

December 2024

December 8, 2024

Almost four years ago, I was on a zoom call with four other women from my synagogue. Covid hysteria (rightfully so) had hit, it was the beginning of March, and we were trying to gain spiritual and emotional resilience from each other. 

It was hard for me to face this great unknown, this great threat, and being an inspirational confessional blogger at the time, I tried to dig into my meager life experience to explain why it was all going to be for the best. 

I was willing it, forcing it, when my friend just sat there, her face streaking with tears. 

“I know,” she said, “but so many people are going to die.” 

Even then, I couldn’t hold it, and it took me weeks, months, years, to let her wide-awake-grief hit me. 

I have to be careful with trauma, and let it carefully rest and recover in my body. 

I’ve been feeling the waves of grief, so familiar to me this past year, rise at unexpected times this last month. 

The shock, the anger, the acceptance, the profound sadness. And again. 

And it must be said; no matter what good may come from this, so many people are going to suffer. 

We, this powerful modern country, elected an evil man to run it. We chose evil. We chose blatant evil. We chose someone physically, emotionally, intellectually, sexually, and morally disgusting. 

And I know it is not just him but the problems of our country that need to be worked on, but there is a “but still” in there. But still. 

As I sit with this at the gym, as if on cue, I walk past a white, buff man in an army shirt doing weights. The white man starts chanting USA USA USA in that frat guy, loud way, getting up and slapping hands with another guy in a kippa while I hurriedly, uncomfortably walk through them. They see me but isn’t about me. It’s about them and their enthusiasm. 

What exactly is he chanting when he is chanting USA, anyways

The great, heaving disappointment of this country as if on display. 

And of course, there is hope. But gee whiz, golly gee, man.

Sometimes the heaviness of it just hits.

I’m taking a Zumba class as loyal newsletter readers know, and occasionally during the class the instructor will call up people to dance next to her. 

And- to be honest- she doesn’t call up anyone, just a few. And she invites me. And each time, I shyly decline. 

I realized that part of why I decline is because it’s hard for me to look at myself in the mirror. To see the weight I’ve put on in the last fifteen years that I’ve looked away from. To see the clothes I’m wearing, hastily grabbed and not so workout-cute because I’m too busy with everything else to spend some time buying myself something that will look good. 

Today, she called up another woman who is just fabulous. And I love dancing behind her, grabbing and using her energy, her light. Stay up front, I urged the woman, I love it. Oh no, she says, I prefer the back. 

And I see then to hide my own light, to shy away from the front, because it’s hard to look at myself, takes away other people’s joy. Other people need my energy, my light. It’s not about me. Any shame I have just takes away from what I can give to others. 

It is a devastating time. 

But I also have to dance.