COVID-19 lockdown diary: It is what it is
Two days ago, my mother and I had a video call that lasted for an hour and a half. This was our first conversation following the shutdown of the country’s largest broadcaster, which took the nation and the international community by surprise.
In less than three hours since ABS-CBN went off the air, my mother had attempted to reach me through our usual means of communication but I wouldn’t answer her call. I needed time to process what had just happened: the potential loss of jobs, which of course does not pertain only to the 11,000 employees of the network and which will create a ripple effect in the economy; and the evident curtailment of press freedom that sends a chilling effect to other journalists, truth-tellers, and dissenters — what some may consider a glimpse of the road to authoritarianism.
For someone whose faculty of words and expression is livelihood, my mind went blank. Not even tears could keep me company.
My mother and I don’t see eye to eye when it comes to matters of political affairs. It’s a subject we often argue about and keep at bay when the conversation starts heating up — and, on the night of the fifth of May, I was too exasperated to even think of what to tell her.
Will she root for the government’s actions and intentions? Will she ask about what had just happened? How it all came to this? And why?
Will she be more concerned about her stubborn child — one they’ve warned against her choice of career track more than a decade ago — who may have just lost her job? A job she loves so much that it’s more important to her than spending holidays with family.
I wasn’t sure, but I was certain I didn’t have the energy to explain the context of everything and risk a squabble with one of my major sources of support. Not at a time like this. And I was sure I didn’t have the heart to tell her I have no idea what happens next. That her ambitious middle child who had always seemed put-together was falling apart was a heartbreak I didn’t wish to share.
So when I finally took her call last Saturday, I knew I was ready.
Imagine my surprise when she spoke of political issues, which had almost always led to eyes rolling and raised voices between us, the way I had long wished she would. From time to time, I would quip, “I told you so!” and we would laugh about how the tables have turned. It’s now the daughter chastising her mother for her misinformed choices and opinion.
If there’s anything good that came out of this pandemic and the way the government is responding to a plethora of issues, it is that many people are finally turning their backs against their emotional investment on and preconceived notions of those in authority. Like a freed prisoner in Plato’s allegory of the cave, those so used to the image of shadows are finally opening their eyes to a blinding light. When one’s view of the world is shattered, unwelcomely and suddenly, there can be no regression to the old ways.
It comforts me to think that humanity is at the phase of slowly adjusting to the light that is at first disorienting and eventually liberating. One can only hope reality concludes differently from the philosopher’s myth of which it is a reflection.
The public now gets to decide whether collective rage or comfortable apathy changes the course of our history.
* * *
In the newsroom, as we were waiting for the unavoidable reality, a piece of classical music kept ringing in my ears: the main theme of J.S. Bach’s Chaconne, the fifth and final movement from his Partita No. 2 in D Minor.
(My favorite rendition of the Ciaccona is that of Hilary Hanh, who recorded what’s considered one of the hardest violin pieces at the age of 17. The clarity in her tone is impeccable. I will go to as far as saying her version is better than that of “God’s fiddler” Jascha Heifetz.)
Some historical accounts speculated that Bach wrote this music in memory of his first wife, whom he discovered had passed upon his return from a trip. A commenter on YouTube shared his thoughts, and I found his insights worth retelling:
I don’t know much about music theory and history, and I can only appreciate and interpret what I hear of the music through the lens of my past experiences and present circumstances. To me, Bach’s Chaconne gives the sense of hanging in limbo — swaying like a pendulum between grief and hope. The beauty of this piece lies in the expression of controlled yet profound emotions.
In some way, it reminded me of Schubert’s gripping Erlkonig, which was based on a poem by Goethe about a boy courted then seized by the eponymous character, the Elf King.
(Yuja Wang’s performance of the Lizst transcription is my favorite. Meanwhile, here’s a beginner-friendly video that helped my appreciation of this piece.)
Both works of art leave me the feeling of being in a chase. Of what, I can find no words.
It’s true what they say: music transcends words. •
In less than three hours since ABS-CBN went off the air, my mother had attempted to reach me through our usual means of communication but I wouldn’t answer her call. I needed time to process what had just happened: the potential loss of jobs, which of course does not pertain only to the 11,000 employees of the network and which will create a ripple effect in the economy; and the evident curtailment of press freedom that sends a chilling effect to other journalists, truth-tellers, and dissenters — what some may consider a glimpse of the road to authoritarianism.
For someone whose faculty of words and expression is livelihood, my mind went blank. Not even tears could keep me company.
My mother and I don’t see eye to eye when it comes to matters of political affairs. It’s a subject we often argue about and keep at bay when the conversation starts heating up — and, on the night of the fifth of May, I was too exasperated to even think of what to tell her.
Will she root for the government’s actions and intentions? Will she ask about what had just happened? How it all came to this? And why?
Will she be more concerned about her stubborn child — one they’ve warned against her choice of career track more than a decade ago — who may have just lost her job? A job she loves so much that it’s more important to her than spending holidays with family.
I wasn’t sure, but I was certain I didn’t have the energy to explain the context of everything and risk a squabble with one of my major sources of support. Not at a time like this. And I was sure I didn’t have the heart to tell her I have no idea what happens next. That her ambitious middle child who had always seemed put-together was falling apart was a heartbreak I didn’t wish to share.
So when I finally took her call last Saturday, I knew I was ready.
Imagine my surprise when she spoke of political issues, which had almost always led to eyes rolling and raised voices between us, the way I had long wished she would. From time to time, I would quip, “I told you so!” and we would laugh about how the tables have turned. It’s now the daughter chastising her mother for her misinformed choices and opinion.
If there’s anything good that came out of this pandemic and the way the government is responding to a plethora of issues, it is that many people are finally turning their backs against their emotional investment on and preconceived notions of those in authority. Like a freed prisoner in Plato’s allegory of the cave, those so used to the image of shadows are finally opening their eyes to a blinding light. When one’s view of the world is shattered, unwelcomely and suddenly, there can be no regression to the old ways.
It comforts me to think that humanity is at the phase of slowly adjusting to the light that is at first disorienting and eventually liberating. One can only hope reality concludes differently from the philosopher’s myth of which it is a reflection.
The public now gets to decide whether collective rage or comfortable apathy changes the course of our history.
In the newsroom, as we were waiting for the unavoidable reality, a piece of classical music kept ringing in my ears: the main theme of J.S. Bach’s Chaconne, the fifth and final movement from his Partita No. 2 in D Minor.
(My favorite rendition of the Ciaccona is that of Hilary Hanh, who recorded what’s considered one of the hardest violin pieces at the age of 17. The clarity in her tone is impeccable. I will go to as far as saying her version is better than that of “God’s fiddler” Jascha Heifetz.)
Some historical accounts speculated that Bach wrote this music in memory of his first wife, whom he discovered had passed upon his return from a trip. A commenter on YouTube shared his thoughts, and I found his insights worth retelling:
Bach titled the collection of which this is a part “Sei Solo.” That does not mean “Six Solos” in Italian (that would be “Sei Soli”). Instead, it means “You are alone.” He composed these in the months after the death of his wife. He used double stops (playing two strings at once) to bring his wife back to life, as it were, as a virtual second violin performer. Knowing that makes these astounding works even more moving.Meanwhile, other musicians and critics would disagree and stress how the solemnity and structure of Baroque music differed from the rich emotions that propelled the Romantic period.
I don’t know much about music theory and history, and I can only appreciate and interpret what I hear of the music through the lens of my past experiences and present circumstances. To me, Bach’s Chaconne gives the sense of hanging in limbo — swaying like a pendulum between grief and hope. The beauty of this piece lies in the expression of controlled yet profound emotions.
In some way, it reminded me of Schubert’s gripping Erlkonig, which was based on a poem by Goethe about a boy courted then seized by the eponymous character, the Elf King.
(Yuja Wang’s performance of the Lizst transcription is my favorite. Meanwhile, here’s a beginner-friendly video that helped my appreciation of this piece.)
Both works of art leave me the feeling of being in a chase. Of what, I can find no words.
It’s true what they say: music transcends words. •