Finding a creative spark when it feels like February 37th
I find myself in one of those periods where I don’t know much of anything. The world is topsy-turvy, history is a sludge of coffee grounds in the bottom of the cup — unreadable in terms of what may be next, and even my boyfriend is saying I’d better prepare to have my work practice eaten alive by AI.
My maple tree has tiny red leafbuds dotting the bare branches like jewels. My tulip bulbs are coming up, and my son marvels at their progress each day. He leaves today for a week at his dad’s house, and the tulips may well be in bloom by the time he gets back to me. The new-to-me community garden one neighborhood over starts tomorrow; I’m inordinately excited about this, and bought myself some new gardening gloves and a trowel at Home Depot for the occasion. Gardening itself may be tough this year. My left arm is “jacked up”, according to the orthopedic doctor: tennis elbow with a possible torn bicep from overdoing it in a Bodypump class at the gym. (Not the teacher’s fault; she told me to be careful doing the clean-and-press hoist of the barbell. Was I careful? Who knows! What does it even mean to be careful while performing a move you’ve never tried?)
Tiny acts of love and solidarity are buoying me through this time. But it feels like when I meet a friend for coffee, or bring some day passes for the coworking space where I work to a comrade’s doorstep, it is as if we are calling to one another through a dense fog of preoccupation, grief, scarcity, of feeling the relentless needs of the world smacking against our own limitations like waves against a concrete wall. The stakes of this period in my own life are high enough — major work woes, money issues, medical needs for myself and my loved ones — that it feels unmanageable; how am I supposed to show up for other people who are going through even worse horrors?
I know the answer, of course. I need to just do it. Showing up at shul, at the garden, in the lives of my comrades and friends and relations. Planting the seeds for the next world.
Picking this up again to say: This was a BGW! (Big Gardening Weekend)
Here are some pictures of what I did and consumed:
Leave your thoughts for me in the comments: What do you feel you know these days? How are you grounding yourself , alone or in community?
I’ll leave you with this excellent, powerful statement of values by the president of Mount Holyoke College, Danielle Holley.
Love and Solidarity,
Mariya