Hearts have been heavy in the world lately. It's been 6 months since I took a break from Facebook and listening to the news every day- I needed a rest from all that election anxiety, but even without THAT stream in my everyday consciousness I am a part of the world too, and feel, hear, see, sense the heaviness of our collective pain.
It's also been 6 months since I returned from Massachusetts, where I stayed for over a month to help my dad recover from surgery. He continues to fight a brave battle against cancer, and in a lot of ways I can sense how much the severity of his cancer story (and losing one of my dear friends last year as well) is testing my tendency to insulate and isolate. My art subscription Post really slowed to a halt. I haven't been updating Patreon with projects, or focused in a linear fashion, or sending mail, myself.
But I feel a shift. I feel one of those shifts that really far down deep in my bones, and it's slow going but some things need a slow pace for good marinating. Each time I come back to Post I'm better at it than the last time. And facing my own writing and reaching-out blocks is exactly WHY and HOW I'm able to talk about and teach about encountering writing blocks.
I'm starting tonight, here, from this point recognizing that the stamps arrived days ago and I've been sitting here with pen poised above paper. It starts with recognizing that there is a lot of pain out there. We are in a lot of pain about things. And we have a lot to give each other. Many ways to heal and help each other. Don't give up hope, or the loving knowing that your gifts are needed now more than ever. Even your path to finding your gifts: we need that.
When I was young and suffering from years of depression, my friends and allies kept me going by sending me mail. Just holding onto the gift of how normal, special, sweet and precious that was: to receive a letter or postcard from someone, that's the space I'll open up for myself again as I sit down to write.
I'm thinking of you. I'm thinking of you. I hope you are well. It means the world, it really does. I know the pain of the world is big. Cancer is big. Mortality is big. Grief is big. The pain and problems of the world loom large, but we live our lives in small worlds. And it's in those human-sized worlds that we can show our love, voice love, art for love, vote for love, make movements for love. It's in our small worlds- our every day that we can make change.