Singing Through the Bombing

I am incredibly grateful that I seem to have a little more than enough employment at the moment to keep myself from sliding into debt. However, the crisis government has created through their exploitation of the pandemic to further their “woke” agenda has left me wondering if the despair, horror, and anxiety I experience daily is akin to how civilians felt day to day during the bulk of the second world war. After the British secretly started bombing civilian targets in Germany, the not so secret bombings of London and other British cities communicated to the civilian populations of the world that governments cared so much about their soldiers they were willing to allow the families of the soldiers to die so long as it took some of the heat of them. Right now, civilians are dying for the cause. The cause being lining the pockets of Big Pharma executives and the pockets of politicians who never let a good crisis go to waste to expand their bank balance. Like civilians in German and British cities I don’t know if today is going to be the day that some thought policeman is going to decide I’ve had a little too much to think and puts me down to sleep in order to preserve the social harmony that is totalitarian governance.

And yet, while boldly driving my van outside the zone I’m supposed to be limited to, I found myself singing. Now, it’s entirely possible with my double exemptions I am allowed to travel a little further for the nice cheap petrol that saves me $20 a week, but like so many things these days, I have no clue what is allowed and not allowed. Hell, I don’t even know if it’s a crime to drive without a mask on. I don’t think the police know either. I can imagine them getting into the patrol car each morning and turning to their partner and asking, “Just making sure… are simple cloth masks still ok today?” but there’s an awkward silence as neither cop really knows what their job really is anymore. “Just play it by ear, and if we’re wrong, just act confidently wrong.” So as I sailed past two cops, who were obviously relieved it was a non fatal car accident they had been called out to, and not a dreaded “mysterious medical exemption” violation, I found myself just singing.

I suspect there’s a point when the woe and tension just builds up so much that you can’t take it anymore. You just need a release and singing is the autonomic response for my body. Amazing Grace filled the echoing hollow of virtually empty van, then Shania Twain, the Beatles, and even Belinda Carlisle. I sang and sang and sang and as each note toppled out of my mouth the stress and anxiety poured out behind them. There is something truly divine about music and singing. The beauty of song keeps us going when the world has gone completely insane. Right now, I just need to stay focused one day at a time, I need to keep my nerves from burning out. I need to keep my blood pressure down. I need to avoid anger. I need to sing more than I need to shout, I need to hum the celestial vibrations that link spirit to body, and body to spirit. Music is life channeling itself into the ether and awakening sleeping spirits. Amazing Grace, Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound… Amazing Grace… Amazing Grace… that saved a wretch like me.

Author: philosophicaltherapist

I am philosophical therapist based in Australia. However, I offer Skype services for people who live in regional districts, or internationally providing the time zones do not clash. In my practice I emphasise honesty, self-knowledge, curiosity, self-acceptance, self-responsibility, compassion, empathy, respect for emotions, and understanding how key relationships work.

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