The weight of the world is heavy. We’re (still) fighting a pandemic in the midst of a civil rights movement, our leadership is questionable at best and destructive at worst, and there’s no end in sight.
Still, there are glimpses of joy to be found: thunderstorms, art, daily walks, magnolias, fireflies, backyard picnics with friends.
If you’re interested, here’s what I’ve been reading, listening to, and watching lately:
It’s been over a month since I came to this space to share. I started reading Julia Cameron’s The Right to Write to help unblock my brain.
Julia is the brainchild of Morning Pages — three pages of longhand, stream-of-consciousness morning writing, for your eyes only, done as quickly upon waking as possible. She’s a big believer in creation as a practice; as she puts it, she teaches people to let themselves be creative.
So who better to turn to when facing writer’s block?
And here’s what jumped out at me:
We forget the term ‘rough draft’ and want everything to emerge as well-polished gems.
I am a perfectionist. And perfection gets in the way of creation.
Because I have painted and collaged for decades, I have experienced enough creative block in those art forms to know how to get past it. (Show up. Create anyway. Put some paint down. Make some lines. Glue something down.) Soon, I’ve created a couple art journal pages and I’m back in the zone.
But when it comes to writing, I still feel like dabbler, someone new to this creative outlet. And words, unlike visual art, are explicit and communicate a specific thought to the reader. There’s less room for interpretation.
And then I read this:
When writing is about the importance of what we ourselves have to say, it becomes burdened by our concerns about whether the reader will ‘get it’ — meaning, get how brilliant we are.
This has stuck with me.
I want my words to be eloquent and beautifully thought out and clear and perfect. I turn thoughts over in my mind like I’m polishing rocks, hesitant to turn them into written words until they are smooth and shiny, when they will have maximum impact.
I considered how I could begin to change this habit — to write for the sake of writing and publish messy and imperfect thoughts.
And then, on Monday, George Floyd was murdered by those who are supposed to protect and serve him.
And I thought about how I believe that Black lives matter, and how much anguish generations of minorities and especially Black Americans have lived through at the hands of racist institutions, and how I wished I had the words to perfectly express everything I felt.
But we don’t have time for perfection: Black people are dying as white “allies” like me wait for the right words or the right moment.
Julia’s quote could be modified to reflect this:
When condemning racism is about the importance of what we ourselves have to say, it becomes burdened by our concerns about whether the audience gets how brilliant we are.
My promise going forward is to speak out (and write out), imperfectly, against racism where I see it. I will speak to my white family and friends; in white circles, I have power there to change the narrative. I will donate when I can. I will pass the mic to those who are silenced. I will continue to educate myself.
And if you need a place to start, check out these lists full of resources – from books to read to places to donate to how to take action: one, two, three.
I have been working from home for more than two weeks now, cocooned in my apartment. Meanwhile, the coronavirus pandemic continues sweeping the globe, and the transition from normal life has been a hard and sudden transition. I vacillate between managing this new normal and feeling completely overwhelmed. How about you — how are you holding up?
While acknowledging that some days are darker than others, today, this is what I am grateful for:
Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest: The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
I don’t really believe in fate — but if something makes sense to you, if it resonates in some way, then I say take it.
I’ve been an admirer of Glennon Doyle since I first came across her, though I can’t remember if it was via her TED talk or a podcast episode she did or somewhere else. Her approach to this “brutiful” (brutal + beautiful) life is equal parts realism, hope, and humor.
I follow her on Instagram, where she’s promoting her newest book. (Can’t wait to read it.) Today, she posted this:
I don’t think I’ve every really loved before because I’ve been shaping things. Maybe love is just the opposite of control. Because love implies trust. We only control things or people we don’t fully trust.”
About an hour later, I saw an illustration that spoke to exactly this same sentiment; see below. Art is by Joanne/@wonder_do
This has been a stressful month, and I have wrestled to maintain control over all the balls I’m juggling. Even minor things, like taking a photo of my artful mess, have been interrupted (that’s my cat seeking attention at the top of this post). The phrase “like herding kittens” comes to mind, both metaphically and semi-literally.
But back to the point — is there some grace in letting go, either in life or in love?
Maybe there’s some element of control in agreeing to give in to what will be — in saying, “Yes, I will do what I can and surrender the rest.” Either way, if holding on to that power, however small, isn’t working.. then there’s no harm in trying something else.
It’s been a very long time since I had the courage to write anything truly personal here. As I’ve hinted at before, this year has been an achingly difficult one, and I have had to endure some incredibly difficult situations that have ripped open excruciatingly painful wounds from the past, particularly from my childhood. The truth of it all is that I can’t – even for myself – find the words to express or sort through the emotional responses to this year.
I hope one day to be able to share without reservation my experiences in order to help those in similar circumstances, but today the pain is too raw and close, and words fail me.
We all have been in the midst of difficult situations – every last one of us. We are human, after all, and life is made of challenges to be overcome. Along the way we learn things, messages introduced when battling obstacles. In good moments, we tell ourselves that we are strong and resilient; in moments of fear or disappointment we whisper negative things to ourselves, words like “failure” and “incompetent”. And the funny thing is that, the longer we tell ourselves these unhappy things, the more firmly we come to believe it, regardless of whether or not it was ever true.
What have you been telling yourself, love? On my worst days, I find myself believing that I am stupid, unappreciated, invisible, and completely alone. I have felt guilty and angry and ashamed and unloveable. And I have cried many, many tears.
The reason I’m sharing this today is that I believe I am not alone in this inner struggle. This world can be harsh sometimes, and, I think, often leads us to think that if we are not perfect – if we are not skinny, tall, tan, young, brown-eyed, blue-eyed, or green-eyed enough; if we can’t paint like Rembrandt or van Gogh; if we aren’t that blogger who posts every other day with stories from an impossibly perfect life; if we don’t have smooth, glowing skin; if we can’t find love; if we have bad hair days; if we have troubles and concerns and worries – if we aren’t perfect enough, then we’re not good enough.
If you, sweet reader, have been struggling silently with these doubts about your own worth, I have a message for you, one that is far greater than any negative whisper you have ever told yourself. This message doesn’t come from me, but from all the love that makes up this beautiful Universe, something eternal and ever present, something that speaks only truth. It’s a message just for you, darling.
You are loved.
You – sweet, strong, kind, creative you – are perfect. You are good, and whole, and you are on the right path.
You are enough.
And all the love that makes up everything, the love that coaxes flower petals from tight buds, that makes the stars twinkle and the cicadas sing, that brings hope and joy and comfort to people around the globe, this love is enveloping you, holding you tightly in a big bear hug and filling you up with happiness and peace. It is holding you, now and always.
Breathe it in, beautiful. Trust it. Everything is going to be alright.
This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognising you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful.
Strictly Necessary Cookies
Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings.
If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again.
