Covidisms: Grudge Match

I was listening to the Chill Mix that comes up on my Apple Music every week, because, you know, COVID-19.  

One song that got me thinking today was To Have and Not to Hold, from Madonna’s album Ray of Light. What do I have and hold, right now, that I should let go of in this time of pandemic and uncertainty? 

I hold grudges. There. I said it. Out loud. On the internet, of all places. 

Yes, I have sometimes caught myself thinking about things from the past that have hurt me, people who have done me wrong, situations I was in that were negative and hurtful and poisonous to me and others around me. Instead of letting these go, processing them and moving on, I have held them to me tightly, jealously, letting them suck the life and light out of me. I have collected them, displayed them, if not to others, then to myself in my own mind and memory. Up there on their little wooden shelves like the cheap golden plastic trophies of my youth, reminding me of things that happened, yes, of course they happened, but things that no one else cares about, no one else even remembers. 

I hold these truths to be self-evident, that all grudges were created equal, with equal power to hurt the person who holds them, wanting things to be rectified, wanting things to be fair, wanting things to be as they were. Wishing that the things and the people and the situations that created the grudges in me had never been a part of my life in the first place. Wanting things to go back to being as they were before the injuries, to be normal again, to be happy again, to be free and easy and without conflict again.

But you know what? You know what this pandemic is teaching us, if we will listen? Nothing was ever as free and easy and happy as it seemed to be. It was an illusion. Nothing can ever be the way it once was, because we cannot go back and change the past any more than we can predict the future. What happened, happened. What we feel, we feel. What made us, made us. We are who we are now. We feel what we feel now. We love who we love and do our work and try our best to make the world a better place, COVID-19 and politics and famine and pestilence and volcanoes and tsunamis and hurricanes and all of it be damned. 

I am responsible for how I feel. No one else is. I am responsible for the baggage I choose to carry, no matter how heavy it is. I am the only one who can put it down, leave it behind, travel lighter and freer and at peace. 

In this uncertain time, in this time when a man who is almost sixty-three years old, who has almost lived longer than his father did, who could conceivably contract a deadly virus that could actually kill him quickly and without fanfare, isn’t it important, isn’t it mandatory, that we see the positive, celebrate the joyful, and live life free of the things that weigh us down and keep us wallowing in emotions that are fleeting as puffs of air? 

Grudges? I have ‘em.

What the pandemic has taught me?

They may be to have, but they are no longer to hold.