Rainbow Catcher at it Again…
Hi all!! Though I’ve been absent from this blog for a bit, I have been working hard, writing many first drafts for children’s books, and greasing the creative wheels of my brain. It was a fantastic summer of much travel, and much meditation and reflective thinking on how to focus my creative expression.
Early on in the summer, during a child-free trip to the beach, I found myself with a rare stretch of free time. I collected shells, took a long walk with my husband, and spent time just connecting with the ocean. At some point, I sat down on the sand, and began to work the shells into a shape. As I built, I had a strong vision of a bleeding heart– it was at once visceral and strong and I nearly cried as I completed it. I was giving myself full permission to joyfully and fearlessly create– to connect with my true creative spirit, and with nature at the same time. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but I knew it was significant, and I knew it felt like the beginning of something.
Minutes after I created it, took photos, and let it go, a grandfather and his three-year-old grandson happened upon it. The grandfather announced to his grandson, “Oh look! We hit the jackpot!” And they quickly gathered half of the shells for their bucket. I was watching from several feet away, and was absolutely delighted with the progression of events, imagining the various projects they had in store for those shells… sandcastles, mermaid tails, jarred shell collections, layered paperweights…
If you’ve been alive and breathing, I don’t have to tell you that it’s been a rough year. Every day I wake up and look at the news, and will myself not to throw my computer out the window. And everything I read– all of it– feels completely driven by fear and anger. I’ve attended marches, written letters, called senators, voted whenever possible (as always), been indignant, angry, and exhausted. It feels outrageous, impossible, infuriating, and hopeless all at once. Trying to figure out how to fight fear induced policy, tweets, and movements feels like boxing with a straw man– completely and utterly futile.
So at some point, I took a deep breath, and decided to take a slightly different approach. What I was doing wasn’t helping me, and it didn’t feel like it was moving the needle much out there either…feeling like I’m hitting my head against a brick wall, even and especially when I try to connect with those who have different opinions. They don’t hear me, and I have such a hard time hearing them. But that heart on the beach felt like a seed- like the beginning of something. The opposite of fear, the beginning of connection. I want to feel what it is to find the commonality– the universality in our world. From here, perhaps we will find healing. From here, perhaps we’ll find common sense. Perhaps we’ll find the universal truths.
Over the days and weeks, I’ve been drawn more and more into spending time in nature, connecting with the most universal of truths. We are all here on this earth together, whether we like it or not. We are all in nature, of nature, together. I’ve looked to the trees and for advice on how to move in the world… and to the ocean for how to roll with the punches. On my nature walks, I pay attention, to whatever seems to be asking to be noticed: mountains of shells, yellow leaves, peeling bark, dropping berries… I try to listen, and I try to reflect. In these actions, I try to heal myself, to be a part of the solution, to give back… and I hope that whatever ephemeral art that I leave behind helps someone else as well.