healing

When I was in grade school, I used to tell a silly story that went something like…

Once upon a time, there was a little universe.
And in that universe, there was a little solar system.
And in that solar system, there was a little planet.
And on that planet, there was a little continent.
And on that continent…

The story — which I could see in my mind — got closer and closer, periscoping in on a little house and maybe a little family or a little girl. I don’t remember the ending, if there even was one.

I found myself thinking about that as I was careening up I-95 for what creativity guru Julie Cameron might call an Artist Date.

“An artist date is a block of time, perhaps two hours weekly, especially set aside and committed to nurturing your creative consciousness, your inner artist. In its most primary form, the artist date is an excursion, a play date that you preplan and defend against all interlopers. You do not take anyone on this artist date but you and your inner artist, a.k.a. your creative child. That means no lovers, friends, spouses, children – no taggers-on of any stripe.”¹

It was my first solo adventure since my knee replacement surgery four months ago, and I suspect I was breaking Artist Date rules. First of all, I was rushing to get there. It felt more like an errand run or a have-to-do than a creative outing.

Second, there were all sorts of interlopers — the client with erupting mental health issues, the pedophile president, the elementary schoolgirls bombed in Iran, the words of John Lennon — going round and round in my head.

Nonetheless, I kept driving, thinking about the little universe and all of its big problems on my way to the Guilford Art Center, which was hosting an exhibit called, ironically, CIRCULAR THINKING.

CIRCULAR THINKING, featuring fiber art created by the Studio Art Quilt Associates, was “designed to explore the varieties of meanings, images, and experiences evoked by the circle…a shape, a symbol, a concept, or a metaphor.”² The exhibit had been on view since the beginning of the month, and I was happy to slip into the colorful space on its last day.

So much color that I thought, for a moment, I might escape our little world and lose my interlopers all-together.

But there was a shadow of RFK across Hope Barton’s quilt Why We Need Vaccines; Lynne Allen and Cassandra Allen mentioned Endless Conflict, and Martha Wolf asked me to read between the lines of A Newspaper to see the loss of our black and white reality.

Why We Need Vaccines, Hope Barton
Endless Conflict, Lynne Allen and Cassandra Allen
A Newspaper, Martha Wolf

I was buzzing. Hurried. Preoccupied. Definitely not of a “date” mindset. But then a bright bold sun called out and Catherine Lavoie’s piece called Shattered explained…

“Red slashes represent that moment when you finally admit your life is shattered and you need to make changes. The golden background fabric represents the glow of Hope that you can do this.”

Then Rita Hannafin’s sparkling quilt reminded me that We Are Stardust, “part of the swirling, timeless energy that continues life.”

And slowly, slowly, slowly, I started to come back to myself. Settle in. A little.

Shattered, Catherine Lavoie
We Are Stardust, Rita Hannafin

I wandered through the rest of the gorgeous exhibit, browsed the amazing collection of gifts in The Shop — oh my! — then headed on to my next stop, City Gallery in New Haven.

City Gallery was hosting painter Beatriz Olson and her solo exhibit UNMUTED: THE RETURN OF COLOR, “a body of work that traces her journey back to voice, embodiment, and the full spectrum of color that once lay quiet beneath the demands of culture, profession, and expectation.”³

Beatriz is an expressive artist, whose work “involves holistic approaches to healing the body mind and soul distress by using color, form and lack thereof to process emotions.”

Serendipitously, she was gallery sitting for the afternoon, so not only did I get a personal tour of the exhibit, I had the chance to talk with Beatriz about her work and the stories behind the paintings, including The Great Mother and Courage.

The Great Mother, Uncomfortable Truths, Ubabashed – Beatriz Olson
Courage, Beatriz Olson

(We also talked about knees — she’s a doctor and her husband is an Orthopedic Surgeon — and books. As a matter of fact, we’re exchanging books — a copy of my Sleeping with Ghosts for a copy of her Mind Body Secrets that I can’t wait to read!)

Perhaps my favorite piece in her show was Women’s Voyage to Freedom, hanging prominently on the back wall of the gallery. Its bold colors and gold accents tell the story of women coming into their own in this world — moving from what we’re taught, to what we learn, to how we emerge, flourish, and create our own stories.

Noticing the little Universe in the upper corners of the painting, it felt as if the Artist Date had come full circle. And, in a way, so had I — returning to the curious and mobile spirit who is more than ready to get back to living a creative life!

[1] Cameron, Julia. The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. United States: Penguin Publishing Group, 2002.

[2] Art Quilts Take Shape Around ‘Circular Thinking’ at Guilford Art Center’s Newest Gallery Exhibit

[3] City Gallery presents Unmuted — The Return of Color: Where Color, Spirit, and the Feminine Rise

What’s Your Resilience Plan?

BY JEN PAYNE

These days, I wake up with a thin veil of hope. Before the All of it sets in. Again. Then I breathe and stretch. Light incense. Beseech saints and gods. And settle into the morning routine of cat feeding and coffee making — this is the Grounding.

When I am fortified enough, I glance at the headlines and subject lines. Read Jessica Craven’s latest Chop Wood, Carry Water to talk me off the ledge. Remind myself about Chaos Theory, and This Too Shall Pass. Recite the Serenity Prayer: serenity, courage, wisdom. Breathe.

I relay inspiring quotes about Resistance and Creativity and Hope on social media. Call and email my Senators and Representatives. Take small actions of Revolution before I settle into my day, which, for now, is same and sane and familiar.

Familiar enough that at some point, I shake off the Big World things and muck about in my own for a while. The usual: the house repairs, the bills, the client rubbing me the wrong way, that one thing that one person said that irritated the piss out of me, my mother’s caregiving, the impending knee surgery, on and on…

And on…while the world fucking burns outside my window. Literally. Figuratively. Absolutely.

Every time I find myself marinating about my Small World things, I hear Julia Roberts/Liz Gilbert in the opening monologue of the movie Eat, Pray, Love:

“l have a friend, Deborah, a psychologist, who was asked if she could offer psychological counseling to Cambodian refugees — boat people, who had recently arrived in the city. Deborah was daunted by the task. These Cambodians had suffered genocide, starvation, relatives murdered before their eyes, years in refugee camps, harrowing boat trips to the West. How could she relate to their suffering? How could she help these people? So guess what all these people wanted to talk about with my friend Deborah, the psychologist. lt was all, “l met this guy in the refugee camp. I thought he really loved me, but when we got separated, he took up with my cousin. Now he says he loves me, and keeps calling me. They’re married now. What should l do?” This is how we are.”

This is how we are, in part, because we are susceptible to what is called “Crisis Fatigue” — that feeling of overwhelm, lack of control, or the urgency of the next crisis.

And goodness knows, we’re like a Russian doll of crises these days! Everywhere you look, it’s crisis stacked upon crisis upon crisis.

So where is the fulcrum? How do we find a balance between staying informed and hiding under covers? Between revolutioning and resting?

Remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint. You need to make time to drink water, slow down a little, pace yourself.

In her article “When tragedy becomes banal: Why news consumers experience crisis fatigue,” Rebecca Rozelle-Stone , Professor of Philosophy, University of North Dakota asks, “How might we recover a capacity for meaningful attention and responses amid incessant, disjointed and overwhelming news?” and suggests, beyond reining in digital device usage, that we consider:

“Limiting the daily intake of news can help people become more attentive to particular issues of concern without feeling overwhelmed. Cultural theorist Yves Citton, in his book The Ecology of Attention, urges readers to “extract” themselves “from the hold of the alertness media regime.” According to him, the current media creates a state of “permanent alertness” through “crisis discourses, images of catastrophes, political scandals, and violent news items.” At the same time, reading long-form articles and essays can actually be a practice that helps with cultivating attentiveness.”

She also recommends a focus on “more solutions-based stories that capture the possibility of change. Avenues for action can be offered to readers to counteract paralysis in the face of tragedy. Amanda Ripley, a former Time magazine journalist, notes that “stories that offer hope, agency, and dignity feel like breaking news right now, because we are so overwhelmed with the opposite.”

So do that.

But remember…it’s OK to take a day off — from work, from social media, from headlines, from the Resistance.

It’s OK to eat ice cream or take a nap or laugh out loud. It’s OK to make plans, to look forward to things.

Do the things that keep you sane and keep you grounded. Revolution requires Resilience.

In Eat, Pray, Love, the medicine man Ketut suggests to Julia Roberts/Liz Gilbert:

Keep grounded so it’s like
you have four legs.
That way, you can stay in this world.
Also, no looking at world
through your head.
Look through your heart instead.
That way, you will know God.

That way, you will know Good.