Life has been a whirlwind these past few months: appointments, weddings, upheavals. I finished an old art journal and made a new one. Autumn is in full beautiful swing and I’m savoring every moment.
If you’re interested, here’s what I’ve been reading, listening to, and watching lately:
If you’ve followed me and my art online for a while, you’ll know that I’m a self-taught artist and writer. I was creative from an early age, writing stories, building imaginary worlds, performing onstage, and drawing.
In a high school art class I discovered the Altered Books Workshop, which introduced me to the idea of collaging and painting in books; a few years later, I stumbled across iHanna’s blog and dove head-first into the world of art journaling. I’ve been publishing my writing and sharing my art online since 2009 and have filled multiple journals with mixed media experiments. (Here’s my latest one.) I’ve also continued to explore other avenues of creativity, including analog and digital collage, photography, bookbinding, and mixed media art, all of which you can explore here.
I grew up in Pennsylvania, and my childhood was turbulent and my home abusive. Art was and continues to be my refuge and one of the only places where I feel truly peaceful and free to explore my inner world. Though I wish that things had been different, my experience with the darkness and loneliness of depression has taught me greater compassion and empathy for those who also feel alone and unheard. Additionally, it’s informed my creative process: my work is a continual search for the lightness, unfettered joy, and unencumbered imagination that children naturally possess, and for the safety and innocence of time before trauma.
Aside from art and creativity, I am passionate about education, social justice, psychology, and finding the beauty and joy in the small things — I am awed by the natural world and am continually blown away we are here to appreciate it at all. My friends would likely call me kind, contemplative, and quick to laughter, and say that I delight in wordplay, deep conversations, and dogs. While I continue to live and work in Baltimore, my husband and I (and our cats) hope to be making Europe our home soon. (Update 2023: We did it!)
The older I get, the more I realize that we are all on a long road to find connection and belonging, peace, healing, and meaning. As I continue to develop as a human, I hope to be more kind, grateful, and a living example of what love — for oneself and for others — can do.
When life’s stress is overwhelming, I focus on the things that are right in front of me and eliminate everything extraneous.
In just a few months, I am moving overseas. The magnitude of this change and accompanying stressors have manifested physically: my shoulders are tight, my head pounding, my sleep interrupted.
So this weekend, I picked up a book by Thich Nhat Hanh at a little library, moved my body, and rested. I laughed at dog videos. I snuggled my cats. I noticed the small beautiful things in the quiet of my home, like afternoon light that only lasted a moment.
I read Thich Nhat Hanh’s words: “If you are truly present and know how to take care of the present moment as best you can, you are doing your best for the future already. […] Everything is ok now.”
I also looked to other artists for reminders to take it slow, breathe, and take small steps forward. Morgan Harper Nichols (below, yellow) shares her beautiful art and poetry online, and they always seem to find me at the right time. Humberto Cruz (also known online as iscreamcolour, below, colorful) shares cheerful pep talks.
And over and over again, I am reminded that we never have to climb the whole mountain at once — we are in fact incapable of it. No matter the task, all we ever have to do (all we ever can do) is take the next step. As Hahn says, “My true home is in the here and now.”
So my only task, really, is to do the next right thing, here, in the present, and so move forward, slowly, slowly. And breathe.
This year, thus far, is made of the highest highs and lowest lows. In fact, it feels exactly like the start of Dickens’ Tale of Two Cities. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”
In January, I eloped in a beautiful ceremony in Denmark. Then, I had a serious health scare, culminating in my first-ever surgery. A few months later, two of my grandparents were diagnosed with cancer. Luckily, my husband and I were able to travel to the west coast to spend precious time with them, and a few days later, we had a beautiful wedding celebration with family and friends.
Life is full of ups and downs, but rarely do they happen in such extremes right on top of one another. On this emotional roller coaster, I am acutely aware of how much the good times are possible because of the bad times, and vice versa. If loved ones weren’t so dear, we wouldn’t miss them when they’re gone. Ill health reminds us to be deeply grateful when we are well.
It is the highs that define the lows, and the lows that define the highs.
All this leaves me overwhelmed by love and a renewed understanding of how fragile and fleeting life is. If nothing else, this year (thus far!) is a reminder of the certainty of beginnings and endings, and that this moment — right here, right now — is all we really ever have.
Each year, I take a photo on (or near) my birthday to capture both the moment and the passage of time. Some photos are better than others; some hold better memories than others.
Today, I add another photo to the collection, a memento from the second birthday I’ve celebrated in this pandemic. Today, I’m especially humbled and overwhelmed, in ways I can’t even express, by the love that surrounds me. I’m so grateful.
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