In the absence of hope

I believe in the power of hidden beauty, the fascination buried beneath pleasing aesthetics, the delicacy in a shared moment of awe. Beauty, not the physical type, but the one that touches our souls, that moves us. I believe there is beauty in sadness, in terror, in grief and in the mundane. I believe we can always find something beautiful even in dire times.

It is really hard to see beauty in a world that seems to crumble, where nothing is the same as we have ever known. We feel like we are spiraling downwards, endlessly drawn to doom, whatever doom turns out to be. For now doom has many faces, many possibilities, and we can see all of them, all at once, all around us.

I have, for a brief moment, lost hope in beauty.

This has been a subject here before, because it is a recurring theme for me - how to create and tell stories when you lose faith in what inspires you? How to overcome the impending sense of calamity, the collective grief for the people we lost and the everyday life we no longer experience? I often ask too how to keep loving video games when this trade does its best to push me, and push others like me, outside of the door. And if I choose to see through these lenses, to question as I should, what will stop me from giving up?

Not long ago, while trying to cross this barrier of paralyzing anxiety, I went back to the roots of it. Telling stories is a survival skill, as I am pretty sure I have said before (who would know, I did) that served us since time immemorial to make sure humanity could thrive. Those who were able to tell others how they escaped a life threatening event were too training those others in how to react in similar life threatening events. Fairy tales might not have come from actual fairies, but they do carry morals and important lessons, according to what each culture considered important at the time.

Right now, we are surviving. Gathering our lessons learned, slow cooking whatever comes after this collective, unprecedented uncertainty. I think of what will last after the dust is settled. The stories that are being born right now, fueled by the gloom and the eerie experiences we are living. It sounds silly and crazy optimistic, but I have faith in the stories that will come.

I have hope in their beauty, however strange, however raw.

-Maíra