Once a Post War Child....

When a war starts anywhere, we can read, see and hear it in the news, and each time my heart sinks to the bottom, something old and seemingly bottomless gets activated, something residing in the depth of my collective memory pool. I can only explain it as the visceral remnants of my ancestors being stirred – two major world wars in one century, vast devastation, millions of dead, decades of violence, loss, trauma, and injury to hearts. Human made. The sounds and reverberations of missiles, shelling, bombs, explosions are shattering inside my body. News of wars in Africa, Asia or Middle East does the same thing to me, a sickening deep in the guts suppresses my appetite, draws life out of veins, and makes the garden in my heart shrivel. Of course, getting older I have learned to make an effort to counter these manifestations or symptoms since it does not help anything. But I let it be a red light – a bell rings. Yesterday afternoon, I get take-out Chicken Matzo Ball soup from Saul’s, and a latke. Comfort food. 

 

The weather has brought us unusual freezing temperatures. At night I habitually turn off the heat, the old house turns really cold. Today just before sunset, as I get ready to practice the cello, I discover that the D string is slack. Must have been the nightly drop of temperature. But I am very hungry for playing because it calms my nerves. “Wow, even my cello is way out of tune…” I muse out loud. Disturbance abound. As I carefully turn the wooden peg at the neck, the A string breaks in response with a loud pop – a bit of a shock. Now I am feeling bereft.  Immediately I contact my teacher Bob Ng to see if he would be available to put on a new string. I am lucky, it is the end of his long teaching day. As always, he is kindness in person, waiting for me to come by. Just fifteen minutes later, we are conversing about Russia, Putin, and Ukraine, as he is restringing my cello… rescuing me :)  Earlier today I called my sister in Germany. I need these grounding exchanges, others’ intelligence assessing the dangerous situation. There are many ways to see a tragedy.  

 

Feeling my loneliness even despite tasty chicken soup – missing my mother, my best friend, and my husband, who all three left five years ago. Late evening, spending time with my cello, music and sound, singing, breathing, all this resonance is flooding me with gratitude and solace, smoothing the inevitable sorrow in my heart.  

This morning I wake from intense dreams filled with practical logistics, helping the injured, the old and children in Europe’s war zone where I am visiting, engrossed in improvising and finding small solutions, smiling, spreading minute comfort, confidence. Am I rehearsing for scenarios that do – and could or will increasingly – play themselves out in this country, too? Personally, we might feel invincible, but amidst the undiscerning waves of History, Climate Chaos, brutal violence and strongmen, we are in reality just small boats tossed about… or small rescue rafts if we chose to….