“Ta-daaaaaah, ta-dah ta-daaaaaaah, ta-dah, ta-dah, dah-dum-daaaaah.”
I close my eyes, blocking out the world around me. With nothing to see, my ears pick up patterns and sounds I might otherwise miss.
A bassoon sings its low sad song. He’s telling the world what life feels like right now. “There’s no one else around,” he says. “I’m here, singing my song, waiting for the day that I can be reunited with my orchestra.”
“I have so much to sing,” he says, with his low trills and small scales. He plays such a somber tone—slowly rising and falling again. It’s almost like a lullaby. Repetitive and calm. Slow and beautiful in its solitude.
As he plays his song, there’s the beauty of a twinkling piano intertwined. It’s as if the piano reminds him of brighter days to come. She lets him wrestle with his sorrow, and just as it sounds as though he’s wondering if he really can go on, she lets him take a break and inserts her playful melody. The one that sounds like birds chirping in the morning air. She reminds him that spring is up ahead. “This sad time doesn’t last forever,” she sings.
He responds a little brighter this time, “I hear you, but sometimes it’s hard to believe. Especially when you’re living in a time like this.”
She continues her short proclamations. This time taking a sadder tone. She acknowledges his pain with a minor key. She agrees to sit with him for a while. She lets him mourn. She lets him grieve. She holds his hand as his sadness turns to rage and then back to sadness once again.
As he plays his final note, over and over again, first short and staccato, then longer, and another even longer, it almost sounds like a foghorn. Morse code. Perhaps it’s his SOS?
She answers his every call with a note of her own. “I am here,” she says. “I am here.”
I wrote this when the world was on lockdown in the early days of 2021 as a response to Song for the Lonely, composed by William Grant Still and played by Lecolion Washington.
The very best thing about art—whether it’s visual art, music, or the written word—is that it transcends all time and situations.
People are more lonely today than ever before.1 And it’s not just adults that are affected.2 Kids are spending more time on social media and video games and less time playing outside with neighbors.3
We’re not on lockdown anymore, but I am still drawn to Song for the Lonely. Loneliness is an epidemic with far-reaching effects and consequences. I love the hope that this song offers. Connection is out there; we just have to be vulnerable enough to allow it to take hold.
This article is from a year ago, but I don’t think much has changed since then. If you want to read the entire report, you can find that here.
Playing outside has so many benefits for people of all ages, but it can be difficult for many families to find safe spaces for their children to play. I love the work the Children & Nature Network is doing to help make playing outside possible for all kids.