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Sheltering-in-place: Day 49

A woman wearing an black dress with a large abstract splash print on it postures oddly, sort of dancing, sort of not. The text on the image reads  Am I dancing or fighting? Swimming or drowning? Does it matter if I'm still smiling?

The text on the image reads

Am I dancing or fighting?
Swimming or drowning?
Does it matter if I'm still smiling?

 

This is a dress that I usually only wear when I'm going/planning/hoping to swim. That isn't going to happen for a while for me, no matter how lovely the weather becomes. For the moment, then, I am neither swimming nor drowning, literally. Figuratively, I'm pretty sure I'm in the shallow end of the pool right now.

Even if I never learn capoeira, dancing is often a form of fighting for me. It's all very figurative and psychological and symbolic, so I won't pester you with details.

Laughter, mirth, silliness, and smiling are also ways I fight back. Something can be truly terrible, and we can still find ways to crack a smile. It doesn't, or shouldn't, reduce or denigrate the seriousness of that truly terrible thing to not abjectly suffer it fully 100% of the time.

I'm trying to remind myself that I'm allowed to smile and giggle. I'm allowed to be okay. I'm allowed to not just weather the storm, but to steel myself against it, armed to the teeth with art, critical thinking, hope, dancing, friendships, science, and more. We're all being changed by this, me as much as you. I'm fortifying my resolve today. I'm in charge of how it changes me.