This personal story/essay/reflection is a creative writing post (#22) from my occasional series for paid subscribers, who can also leave comments on most posts. As always, email hollymathnerd at gmail dot com if you would like a paid subscription but can’t afford one.
Context: we’ve had rain almost every day for seven weeks, and the weather models call for the same pattern to hold during August. It is not an exaggeration to say that we’re functionally skipping summer this year—at least, summer in the sense of being able to enjoy getting outside and being in the sun for more than occasional, very brief periods in between rain. This is the main reason behind this month’s historic flooding; the ground simply couldn’t absorb any more. Seven weeks mostly of gray, dreary, depressing weather has taken a serious toll on me, as someone who struggles with depression.
The BYU Vocal Point choir has a rendition of “It Is Well With My Soul” that you can watch below (I’ve embedded it; here’s the link if for some reason this doesn’t work for you/your device/your email client/your app).
I love this version of this song, and not just because earnest Mormon boys are adorable.
Leaving therapy today, I put it on auto-repeat, turned it all the way up, and sang along.
My drive home from therapy takes 25 minutes on the route I prefer to take. During the winter, I stick to the roads that get the most attention from the snowplows. But when it’s not snowing, I take a scenic route that’s all green fields, farmhouses behind white picket fences, kids playing outside, cows chewing grass and hay, and American flags fluttering in the breeze.
It’s a beautiful drive, absolutely stunning, and this is such a beautiful rendition of a wonderful song, inspiring even though I don’t believe its premises to be true. I read once that the “fundamental assumption of the human species is that made-up stories can matter,” and I believe this to be true.
My friends Heather Heying and Bret Weinstein introduced me to the concept of “literally false, metaphorically true” and I have found enormous solace in this idea.
Or, to share something that Bret said to me once—possibly in the top five most important things anyone has ever said to me, one of those things that made everything that came after it different and his influence on me indelible for having said it—and given Bret holds at least one other spot in the top five, that’s really saying something:
“There is no God. And He loves you very, very much.”