It was such a strange day... I didn't want to leave my friends' apartment. I felt really, really anxious. Aside from sitting in the tub and combing my fingers through my hair manically as I looked at my laptop (this happens a lot when you're self-employed) I don't think I accomplished anything for an entire day. A gorgeous day. A blue sky, mid-fall, grand finale of tour kind of day. In the evening I ventured to the metro with my guitar and Patti Smith's M Train. But I couldn't focus. I felt really agitated. Again, this happens, and the fatigue/stress of living on the road makes it difficult to distinguish between intuition and paranoia. I switched trains and noticed a dozen or so soldiers marching through the station. Not uncommon, but my hairs prickled.
Then the concert! Like many nights which follow strange, anxious days it was an absolute joy. A friend from Los Angeles showed up unannounced, a little boy danced and wiggled on the carpet, and there was so much love in that room I perceived a soft golden glow between the audience and me. I silently repeated "I love you" to each person as I sang, and I thought I could happily depart the earth, having experienced such bliss.
Then the agitation returned... what's going on? Was it mine? Was it the audience's? Again, it's hard to distinguish. A man in the back corner pulled his cell phone from his pocket and began shifting in his chair, texting and scrolling anxiously. I kept singing and focusing on the light, but a dark cloud had entered the room. When I finished the concert the rest of us found out about the Bataclan.
There was a fire? It was a shooting? How many?! My brain couldn't process the information it was being told. Since the metro was shut down we hurried to get a taxi, his last ride of the night. The driver frantically texted loved ones as we sat in traffic surrounded by blue ambulance lights, not knowing what would explode next. My elementary French couldn't make sense of the radio but understood perfectly the terrified sounds beside me.
When we arrived back at the apartment I stood frozen in my jacket for nearly an hour before my friend coaxed me to get in bed, not that any of us slept. I couldn't stop thinking about the people in that club. I thought of all the musicians I know, the concerts I've been to, the stages I've stood upon. The night before I'd performed a concert a couple blocks away from the Bataclan, and ended up eating a baguette on the sidewalk outside. 24 hours and that could've been me. Why hadn't it been? What the fuck?! The world is fucked!! My innocence was gone. My worldview, destroyed. My home - the stage, my oasis - no longer a safe space.
However by far the most lingering, deeply disturbing thought is that I experienced such a teeny, tiny taste of terror compared to what millions - MILLIONS - of our brothers and sisters face every day. 13.5 million Syrians. Neither my brain nor my heart can process this knowledge. I still can't. Every day, every time I'm on stage, every time I'm lying in savasana in a cozy yoga studio I'm thinking about our fellow humans and what they must endure. And I'm very sad and very afraid.
The terror struck again Wednesday morning and every day since, with reports of violence against our Muslim family, our lesbian family, our gay family, our transgender family, our black family, our brown family - OUR FAMILY. Tears come in waves, anger surges, grief and shock swirl. More than ever we can't rely on our government to take responsible action on our behalf. We must take responsibility for our actions and for the actions of the government that claims to represent us. NOW.
I just donated to the International Refugee Assistance Project with the money raised by backers in the making of Let It Breathe. It's a drop in the bucket compared to what needs to be done but with enough drops buckets are filled. Thank you for your generous contributions. If you're in the position to donate more please do. More than anything please pledge your love, kindness, compassion, and willingness to help heal the division of the human race. You are urgently needed.