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Little Arms
markup on photo of beach stones, cement, rust and rebar
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Many moons ago an spiritual elder gave me a handful of seeds, each the size of a pea. She said they were for protection, and most looked like wrinkled faces. I understood immediately what she meant: I was in a dark place.
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She knew I needed some kind of support while navigating what felt to me like getting my face shoved into the banks of The River Styx.
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What did I say about making a big deal? Yeah, I really felt I was in The Underground, as Persephone, The Ferryman or maybe even the Landscape itself.
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The elder's gift let me know I was not alone, and that someone could still see me, even in the bog of wide-eyed depression. Being recognized helped me get through, and keep my eyes and heart open in hopes I could be helpful to others in this state later. Yeah, I took medicine too, but the experience of knowing does not dry up with pharmaceuticals, they just make it easier to get out of bed before ten.
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Since that time, I've been a touch preoccupied with protection: protecting self, protecting others, what is the nature of protection, and so on. My ideas are not completely formed, except to say, the shielding quality seems to require adversity or threat to be fully realized. Like a ping of a sword against our armor lets us know the armor worked. Ping, ping, clank, whomp - that's been my experience. A little loud.
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As an artist, I explore protection in the form of shields, symbols, and encircling, while making only digital marks in digital spaces. By this practice, I leave no physical trace on the landscape, and obscure the geographic location as well.
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I know natural midlife warriors, facing upheavals in their roles as workers, parents, and caregivers – and those who are in-between things – know what I'm saying. There seem few outlets in our social lives to express our mythic selves, and yet it is critical to navigate tough spaces to emerge, and to have something with which to serve.
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Most of us feel the mythic aspects of life, then try to act normal, make a decent pot of coffee, show up to everyday tasks with cheer. Which is totally cool, even though it's only half of what's happening.
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What I'm saying here is you can speak to your depth too. And if you don't want to talk, you can make art, express yourself creatively, and cry at great music and movies too.
I'll be imbibing the Odyssey soon for this very reason. What about you?
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More Text & Images
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Creative Process: how accidents can become art
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Bringing the unintentional into light by making art of findings. I enjoy altering standard practices in essay writing, so be warned if you find yourself frustrated while following all that's going on below. I was delighted to find that two accidental phone photos had qualities like Mark Rothko's color field1 paintings. Because he is one of my favorites, I saw …
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Categories: Creativity, Mommess, Visual Art
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You received this email because you signed up here, or I thought you might find this interesting and added you to my weekly roundup of text & images. You may unsubscribe at any time at bottom.
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In the days of AI and excessive optimization, mess is leading edge.
Some content here is political, some personal, much of it philosophical, and all of it meant to shine some light into the lives of my readers, because it was written to shine light into mine.
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I hope my work stirs your soul, ignites your creativity, and helps you feel connected to all the good things this life can offer. If it doesn't, please promptly forget it! This work is my soul's calling. If you find value here, please tip or consider a paid subscription.
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POLITICAL ACTION AREA: It's best to connect with your local civic groups, and show up in the ways you can. Peaceful crowd sizes matter, as does your positive energy, community spirit, and adherence to non-violence.
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