We are totally devastated by the horror that occurred last night in Manchester, a city that has always been very significant for the band, and where we have so many great friends and family members. Our most compassionate thoughts and purest prayers go to the families who have been ripped from the blessings of their loved ones, and to everyone, who just like us, feel helpless in front of such monstrous and abominable acts of hatred and violence.
Every morning following such a horrifying display of disasters, might they be perpetuated in familiar places or far away, reminds us how fragile gathering peace and communal empathy look like before the implacable nature of hatred… How the price for forgiveness and love seem to be more and more difficult to pay for people of good will… as we are to be facing the most horrible fears and dreads there is, which is to become the same monsters we are now so deeply despising… At least that’s always my personal decision to make.
Let’s embrace life; it’s always the most inspiring way to honor the ones we have lost and to respond to hatred and terror.
PS: We also want to thank everyone who sent us messages inquiring for the safety of Jeff and me as we are just coming back from the UK… Sorry it took time for us to react, we are as shocked as you all are… One thing is for sure, though; your affection is once again so inspiring to us all. Thank you for reminding us the power of true love.
To deny anyone’s rights is to deprave everyone from their rights. We might not understand, we might not be comfortable, we might not even agree, but one thing is for sure; the moment we deny equality based on our beliefs or on other people’s differences, we become accomplice of the hatred that each and everyone of us had to face, are facing or will face one day for simply being who we are. By acknowledging who we are, whatever it might be or not, it is to assume what others might be or not as well. Want it or not, we’re all strange, weird or wrong for at least another one. And this is what makes the world a far more captivating place to evolve in than any homogenized dictature created by our fears and what we rebuke. At least, true or not, that’s where I stand… Human rights for all… no exception!!!
New York has always been a fascinating living entity for me. More than just an iconic name to hang onto, it is like a world revolving on its own, almost a fictional concept of sorts… It’s as if time never had any kind of authority on its evolving motion tides. It feels like the center of everywhere you may try to look at; the past, the present, the future. Blissful joy and apathetic misery. Everything we’re trying to leave behind and all we’ve ever wished for. Addiction and freedom. Community and self-reliance. It’s a symbolistic imagery of liberty and an implacable opulent stronghold. A pornographic indigence and a sanctified ambition.
Like a mirror reflecting its vision of the world it creates and destroys, it’s a romantic illusion for everlasting love devotees. A refuge for those in need of a new beginning. A theater for anyone longing for a brighter light to shine. A hideout for strangers. A noisy crowd for those fleeing their own silence. An ongoing picture of past nostalgia and future envisioning. It’s a busy street for an anonymous writer, a mystical fire, a mysterious desire to kneel for, an elevation of our own contractions. It’s the beauty of all creations and the chaotic natural disaster that comes with it. It’s what it tastes like to be God in your own rights, and what it means to truly be human.
I grew up in a storm, ever too old to believe and too young to really care. Most live to say goodbye, some die to feel alive. And as close as it might be from home, reality always seems to be the furthest of all places to reach out to, as if the distance between a dream and its incarnation remains the greatest one to overcome. And on that foggy and rainy night of March 1, 2016, walking on Broadway, drinking wine surrounded by loved ones’ laughter and amazement… That moment wasn’t New York City. It was resolutely greater than any of its dazzling lights and its vibrant skyline. It was family… As magnificently simple as it is. As inspiringly empowering as it is. Family… and its unique ability to allow its own to be, between a dream and its incarnation, whatever they are or might be.
New York City… “Most Live To Say Goodbye – Some Die To Feel Alive”
Thoughts following the events in Sainte-Foy
It feels awfully more painful for me to write a message like this one… Not because madness came violently ripping life at home, but because it gets harder and harder for me to look around without sounding hopelessly cynical or disconnected…
It’s as if the world, more than the reality in which it seems to revolve around or grow in, was getting blurrier and blurrier. As if every time we were forced to look outside our own lives, we had to helplessly witness another bright color disappearing before our very eyes, suddenly unblinded, if only for a brief moment, by the despicable horrors that frightfully seem to be coming closer and closer to what we thought was our safe haven of existence.
It feels awfully more painful for me to muse about hope and love and peace as “terror” keeps inviting itself at the table of communion, bringing with it its abominable darkness, as if such a dreadful evilness was challenging everything that I am, everything that I believe in, everything that defines the compassion I turned into actions, forcing me to look deeper and deeper every time, to take a look at myself. But everything inside of me would rather keep looking the other way in order to deny myself the sole existence of such hatred, to rebuke it all, to keep living, as if… as if what…? Sometimes, I’m just too confused to even be able to lie to myself… “Everything will be ok”, I keep whispering. But how do I know? I keep wondering. Is it ok to be confused? I don’t know.
Since the Charlie Hebdo atrocities, the multiplications of abhorring hateful tragedies, their associated images and videos, what disgusted me the most remains the high level of apathetic nonsense we keep hearing in the different public tribunes. “Experts”, “specialists”, “observers” and “commentators” feed the flow of every possible easy and generic bullshit seconds only after the news are out. This morning, the garbage I heard was beyond intelligence from both sides of the political and social spectrum. I was disgusted. People advertising their books, their conferences, their services… no compassion, no empathy, no sympathy, no grace, not only from the tip of their lips as they advertised themselves. It made me so sick. I was just too repulsed by such lack of sensitivity to fake it through the day. It was beyond imagination. And since Donald Trump has been elected President, God knows the degree of insanity we have heard from all possible sides, from depicting women as sexual objects to be grabbed to walls, refugees bans, assassination jokes, all the way to publicly talking about bombing the white house. The political and social rhetoric is now too monstrously depraved of sense to simply be seen as ridiculously pathetic anymore; it’s hideous.
In fact, after the horrific events that occurred in Istanbul on New Year’s eve, I promised myself to stop writing about those tragedies. When words aren’t enough to share the true dimension of my feelings, I would rather leave others who still have enough strength to do it. But after receiving so many messages from friends from all over the world, from different cultures, religions and social, economic and political spheres of life, I realized even more that it’s not my weakness, nor my confusion or my doubts that I should fear, but silence… The true serum to everything that leads to or feeds bitterness, sorrow and hate remains our desires to keep inviting, to keep welcoming as we are, to keep taking chances…
As I’m writing, I’m still as confused as before, if not more. I still feel powerless, disgusted by it all. But it’s what a dear friend from Morocco recently wrote to me that keeps vibrating in my heart today. “It’s ok to be discouraged, to be confused or even scared. We all are. Love, peace, the world… nothing’s a lost cause as long as we care. As long as we care, there will always be hope, my friend. Keep walking your path and remember, when you are discouraged and want to give up, that there are people like me who do care about you.”
And as I keep whispering “everything will be ok” and keep wondering “how do I know?”, I guess, after all, that it’s because I’m one of the millions who does care that I know it will be ok. Thank you for your messages and for welcoming me. My family, my loved ones and I are safe. It might seem like the world gets more and more into the bleakness of black and white, but I know that the colors I thought were lost were safely held in your generous and sharing hands, my dear brothers, sisters, and loved ones… Let’s keep shining!!!
In answer to the Nice attacks
“Once more”… While hate keeps spreading terror and horror on the persistent monstrosity that defines its path, it is hard to envision the day where such atrocities will be but a painful memory of a time deprived of love and color.
“Once more”… While the world divides itself upon slogans and their dichotomy, that the terror induced by images becomes a fight of audience ratings led by mass media and that the term “matter” become the reflection of a political campaign that prioritizes their agenda of cultural antagonism.
“Once more”… We are hit, we are knocked down, we are stripped down, we are being divided, radicalized and isolated, we are afraid… but most of all, we are dehumanized.
“Once more”… Once too many times. Always unbearable, unacceptable, this fatalistic expression haunts us… “What can I do? Is there really something to be done?”
However “once more” has the ability to remind us that, despite a deep sorrow, we are still standing, wobbling and fragile, but united in front of this tenebrous breach of hate.
“Once more”… May we have the courage to remain in the light while facing the dark shame that is hate, may we believe that through our faith in life and love we will win over apathy, animosity and malice.
“Once more”… As hard as it may be to resist to our own darkness and to becoming a shadow of sorts, may we have faith that one day, beyond the horizon of our deepest beliefs in humanity, we will see the expression “once more” become the reflection of a day where we will be able to gather and celebrate, free from the anxiety born from the fear of “the other”. And this day will be a magnificent one, on which we will be able to build, all together, no exception.
So today, I must resolve to offer you my thoughts, my prayers… My brothers, sisters, friends and loved ones, while I know that my words cannot ease your suffering, or even comfort you, I can only express my most sincere and unconditional love to you… While different, it is this love that unites us and that will be able to build us up… “once more”.
In answer to the Brussels attacks
A message to brothers, sisters, friends, neighbors and loved ones
I woke up this morning by the most violent of all alarms; stupor.
My old enemy was back, hitting at me with his favorite weapons; powerlessness, incomprehension, anger. Bleakness, as if everything had become black and white for a moment, in a flash of total emotional abnegation. I asked myself: “Is that the permanent state of the world we now live in?”. Fear.
I feel terribly worried for my Belgium brothers, sisters, friends and loved ones who are missing. I am compassionately kneeling with those who are devastatingly heartbroken and openly inviting those who are ragingly looking for the same measure of pain to be served to the monsters who brutally ripped away lives in only one name; their own.
And I thought about writing. But what words can I write, what words should I share? Terror, as the life it destroyed, has corrupted every one of those commiserative words into redundant empty shells that vibrate like the echoes of our own voices whispered in the wilderness of our confusion. What else do I have to offer but words? Every time, every single time, I’m asking myself the very same question: “What can I do?”. “If only there was something to be done”, I thought.
Today’s tragedy turned empathetic words into some recycled eulogy perfectly dressed and immaculately aligned for any horrible occasion, turned mourning silences into suspicious self-preservative hideouts for what looks like a personal denial in better tomorrows. Words are only heartless tonality without soul. I’ve learned a long time ago that a true heart cannot fake its distinctive nature, and even if my words might reflect how shaken up I am now, how helpless I might feel and tired I might be to fight the good fight, I’m not ready to abdicate. Not ready to stoically remain quiet or look the other way.