CAKE | 20 — Prepare yourself for something dreadful

I have always been drawn to disasters. Whether an earthquake, a zombie apocalypse or an accident of massive proportions, I love reading about them, watching them on screen. I particularly enjoy learning about the causes of disasters, down to the details of how the speed of a tsunami depends on the depth of the ocean and its wavelength may be hundreds of miles, what rapid decompression does to your brain and how much time of useful consciousness you have left depending on the altitude of the plane or the fact that the taste of chocolate people reported after the nuclear accident in Chernobyl stems from nerve damage caused by radiation. And I'd like to think I'd be somewhat prepared when catastrophe's here. I actually own an emergency bag, equipped with a flashlight, a full charger, a transistor radio, candles and cans and more. You may laugh now (but you should really get your own). Disaster preparedness awareness campaigns have nothing on me and my knowledge on what to do when it all goes down. I've read too many books and seen too many movies and documentaries. Whether fictional or real, seeing something previously unimaginable unfold before my eyes and having to contend with its aftermath is shocking, disheartening and yet oddly invigorating. For whatever reason I thrive on the inevitability of hope that disasters bring to light. They create so much pain but they also encapsulate all that is of worth in humanity. Perseverance. Resilience. Unyielding optimism. And a flicker of decency.

Disasters strike suddenly and end quickly. They crush dreams, plans and lives, they swallow us whole and if we're lucky they spit us back into the world deeply scarred. But until this year I didn’t know they also appear silently, on an idle Saturday, creeping up on us like a cat approaching us on its tiny paw pads in slow motion, baring something between its teeth that we can’t quite make out but that is undeniably icky. This one left me stunned and with nothing to do but to undo my life. I did not go to the office, the restaurant, the museum. I did not see my friends, family, neighbours. I postponed that dinner, that drink, that party, that trip to New York, London and Japan. I changed my plans and started practising my kanji or tending to my homegrown jalapeños instead, ever so weary of the calm and awaiting a storm that has yet to materialise. To me 2020 has been one badly executed narrative. Disasters usually follow a dramatic arc and at some point render us speechless. Any other pain pales in comparison to the agony caused by their aftermath. They silence doubt and intensify love. Some say they put things into perspective. As if they’d correct our vision, as if we could see clearly, now that disaster has struck. Not this one. This one left us dizzy and quasi paralysed. We look around for something to hold on to but nothing's at hand. We’re waiting it out alone and in silence, weathering its seasons through slow internet connection, blurry screens and too many walks. This one does not even warrant an emergency bag. It has left us useless, numb and in disbelief that disasters could be monotonous and last for months, possibly a year or two.

We so often think we have it all figured out. If we only work hard enough, if we give it all, if we are well prepared, we will be fine. If this year has taught me anything it’s that we won't because we never are. Our confidence deludes us. We don’t know what we’re doing, why we’re doing the things we’re doing. We don’t know who we are or what it is we truly want. We don’t know what life will do to us, where chance will take us. Who will hurt us and what will comfort us in the end. Most of the time the only agency we have is how we react to things happening to us. Sure, we can talk ourselves into thinking that 2021 will be better but the truth is that we just don’t know what next year will spring on us. Most probably there will be more pain as there's clearly a pattern here. But the new year has got potential.

For what it’s worth I do know that my capacity for wonder has not been diminished this year. If anything it has increased. I will be forever amazed by beauty encountered in the least probable moments and places. A kind gesture amid disappointment. A letter from a stranger in the absence of friends. An opportunity I thought was not possible. A smile after tears. Whatever this disaster will have unfolded once it's finished with us, hopefully we will live to tell that scars will not diminish our purpose. They just show we’ve healed. If anything our wounds and losses make us bolder. That’s another effect of disasters, big or small. We are left with no more fucks to give - and a shit load of jalapeños. Here’s to a resolute 2021. Stay safe out there.