Hi,
So immediately after deciding to write this newsletter again a few things happened. The light began changing here, from the soft dusty yellows of summer to the pink grays of early fall. I woke yesterday morning to a sky awash in fuchsia, gaudy, lovely, welcoming in the lower angle of the sun.
The other thing that happened was that I felt the paralyzing stage of re-entering a practice, in this case writing to all of you. I felt all the normal imposter syndrome friends show up (they are still there don’t worry). I felt the lack of things to write about. I felt and feel the deep kind of tired that seems to accompany many of us right now. These things are not resolved but I suppose I am letting you know that returning to a visible place of making is like this, this time, with these set of circumstances. Messy. A but unsure.
One of the hardest things for me about the pandemic and its ongoing stretch has been the way that it makes being visible to each other difficult and in many ways impossible. Life has continued. What makes us visible to each other? Not the social media visible the human visible. Full of holes, capable of delight, covered in yesterdays cup of tea. Accountable in an honest way.
For a number of years I have done morning pages off and on. I am not sure exactly what they do for me creatively but they do offer a kind of salve for things. This is where my best ideas come from.
Repetition.
Cadence.
Rhythm in life that is about life as it is.
This intersects intimately with the other people, places, times.
It is today.
L is watching a movie that is too scary.
C is sleeping. I got to haul out the baby things that have already cycled through this time.
Figuring out a trip to somewhere else.
How to move on.
Hold a life.
A few weeks ago I tried to do something.
To make art everyday.
Just to see what happens.
Here it is today.
I ate an almond orange cake very slowly with a hot cup of oolong tea.
I walked in the wind by the horsetails at the beach with sweet Calla's baby conversation.
I moved my body.
I fed my body.
I fed everyone else's bodies.
I breathed the cold wind and it reminded me to feel alive. Dynamic and Changing.
Upcoming Offerings:
Grantwriting for Artists: Kala Art Institute September 30-October 14, 6-8pm, Online
Things I love:
The Book of Form and Emptiness: A new Ruth Ozeki book!! The strange and wonderful world of Ruth Ozeki is back and I don’t know about you but if there were ever a time when I want a surreal, zen, island living storyteller it is now.
Dear Chelsea. I visited a few of your latest instalments and really enjoyed them! This one especially because morning pages are really close to my heart as well and they have saved me from despair and confusion many times in my life. As you said, often I don’t know what exactly they give me but I know that whatever it is, it’s positive and constructive for my life.
If I were to define your newsletter I’d venture the following - “a slice of my inner life, and other things”. I find myself curious to see where all you will take me so I’m not too concerned of receiving a more elaborate description than that.
This medium is so full of surprises! I found that as I have got to know you a little through our interactions (however limited) I’m enjoying your newsletter a lot more and finding it a previous connection to you who live so far away. I already find it something to treasure.
I also resonate with the spiritual reflection in your writing, thought you’d really enjoy the writings of Dr Daisaku Ikeda on https://www.daisakuikeda.org/.
I look forward to reading more and seeing you again at our round table this Friday.
Warm regards
Vasant