In another world, alternative timeline, or parallel universe, maybe there’s another me that has the creative capacity to develop a book with a strong enough fictional plot. Its characters and dialogue would move people, the worldbuilding feelstangible, and there’s a lesson to be learned. I don’t fantasize about how many copies sell or whether it makes a bestsellers list, but it’s something that will leave you thinking for a little while. They’ll draw connections from my fictional world to the real one that makes them adopt a new perspective, if only for a second or two. It’s reflective but hopeful, maybe harsh, but also something we need to hear.
Somewhere else, in another one, I’m the owner of a bookstore cornered in by a family-owned restaurant and one of those tourist shops with stacked shelves of endless souvenirs. Kids come in regularly with their parents to buy a new book, or browse the restocked stuffed animal section, or listen to a children’s book read aloud by someone caring enough to adorn different voices for each character. It makes enough to just get by, but it’s not the money that matters—it never is—it’s the community that’s thrived there that makes it all worth it.
In another one, I live high up in the mountains. Maybe it’s even the beach, and it’s a little lonely, but the solitude is nice most of the time. I’m able to recognize the animals in the area; they never stray too far, so we’ve been able to build a companionship of sorts. There’s a couple of chickens and I spend most of the day preparing my next meal. There’s always a new recipe I want to try my hand at, and I’ve even started to knit on the porch outside while the sun settles onto the horizon. I can always count on a glass of wine to end the night, and I head off to bed with a cat or dog at my heels.Â
There’s a world where we don’t have to trade our hope in for hurt, where empathy surrounds us at every turn. Justice is always a sure thing, not something to be prayed on and manifested for. No rights are questioned, and rhetoric debating the legality of another has been left long in the past. Our freedom is concrete and protected by systems we can trust. Our friends and neighbors are quick to drop off groceries in times of need, and we take turns buying one another cups of coffee. This one is harder for me to imagine than others, my experience with a society like this has been limited, and might still be for some time.Â
In this current world, I’m pursuing the path of becoming a lawyer. I help families that look like my own so they may live their lives with less fear. My community is unshakeable—we’re smart, kind, and have days with joy more than anything else. Some days it’s difficult to shake the weight off our shoulders and revel in the good things around us, but we always do. There’s always something to live for, something to fight for, something to love. The ceiling is sometimes just out of reach, but we can already see the cracks starting to web, forecasting its shatter.Â
I wish I could pick and choose the best parts of each parallel world, mashing them together and creating my very own utopia. Often, I still need to reconcile with the fact that I can’t. This doesn’t make me any less hopeful though, as there’s a lot of things around me that are enough to sustain me—they have to be. That break of sun through the clouds after a shower of snow. The walk home with a friend after a long night, our arms linked together. Finding a piece of writing that makes peace seem all the more possible. I don’t know if the fear ever goes away, but at another point, maybe I know when it will.Â
Turn to art and literature. These times might feel unprecedented, but I guarantee there’s a film or poem or novel or play or song out there that’ll be enough to keep you going. And when it doesn’t any longer, find another one.Â
Turn to your community. Seek out the friends you keep close to share your despair, making it less so. Turn to the girls in your club that send messages of understanding and unity, of prose full of comfort and good natured sentiments.Â
Escape in that alternate universe of your own making, but pulling and taking and pushing for the ideas and hopeful things you want to implement into our reality. Confide in the escapism, but always center back to this one, ready to look forward.
This sentiment won’t be the root of the change we need and seek, but like that art I told you to turn to, perhaps it’ll be enough to keep you going for a short while.Â