Just Show Up
Grace in the face of utter depletion
Hello friends.
To be honest with you I’m somewhat out of juice at the moment. The news. The heat wave. The dog days.
But, I do have some beautiful, inspiring moments to share from last week, and they have common themes: showing up, embodiment, creativity. Last Thursday I moderated a conversation with Miriam Cabessa, a renowned Israeli painter and a force of nature, at my friend’s new art gallery in Dumbo. Cabessa paints by moving objects, lengths of fabric, and her skin, slowly and meditatively, directly on the surface of the canvas or aluminum. She told us she “thinks with her hands.” The paintings are a record of time and breath. I asked her about the responsibility of the artist in a time of war, and she said (among other things) we have to take on the task of helping people see a different future.
On Friday I co-led an event on climate emotions at the Patagonia Soho store with Olivia Ferarro, who runs the Climate Cafes in NYC. It’s such a simple, beautiful concept, creating a space for people to gather regularly and share how they are feeling about all. of. this. It heartened me to hear how the Climate Cafe program is thriving in this city and many others, and to be with the people who showed up and told us how they were feeling.
And on Saturday I rode the ferry out to Governor’s Island to the Climate Imaginarium, a “center for climate and culture” existing until the fall in one of the 19th century brick officer’s houses on the former military base. It’s a magical space where people are gathering to respond to our current conditions with humanity and beauty.
I was co-creating a two hour arts workshop on the Climate Emotions Wheel with Mor Keshet, a phenomenal integrative creative arts therapist who I just met recently and I spontaneously asked to collaborate with me.
There was something really holy going on that afternoon, really sweet. We had mostly young people, but also two different mothers who came with their teenagers. It was so hot! We went outside, and stood on the grass in bare feet—such a simple thing to do, but Mor says she does it every day, and calls it “earthing.”
Mor takes the wheel and invites people to draw and color their own mandalas of emotion. This one’s mine. I used natural objects and a piece of plastic to represent different feelings I’m holding, like fear, anger, despair and hope.
I shared a childhood memory of the time when a group of Tibetan monks came to Louisiana and spent several days constructing a mandala out of colored sand at the New Orleans Museum of Art. These mandalas are said to represent palaces, maps to enlightenment, the universe itself, and to effect peace and healing. I remember the sound of the small ribbed copper funnels, called chakpurs, that are used to gently apply the sand; they sound like insects rubbing.
As a reminder of impermanence, after the mandalas are complete, they are swept away.
Speaking of sacred ephemera, tomorrow, Saturday, July 20, 2024, is the first day of the action in Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower, a story of collapse and regeneration, which she published in 1993.
It’s my typical move to respond to events with thoughts and analysis and information gathering and planning. I’ll be back here next week with more fully formed thoughts, and surely things will look different by then. But I’m glad I took a few days to try to be of service, hold space, share information in the clearest, most helpful way I could, gather people in person, be outside, make art, be with art.
Speaking of showing up,
In August, climate activist and best-selling author
is launching a campaign to spark as many conversations about the climate crisis as possible, to move folks towards stubborn optimism and joy-filled action.
She’s doing this by asking folks to go through The Week, which is a group experience that sparks real, emotional conversations about the climate crisis, and what we can do about it. Anyone can do The Week by getting together with a group of people three times, each time to watch an hour-long documentary, and have a brave guided conversation.
We all have people in our lives who kind of understand what we’re facing, but haven't actually gotten engaged yet. Getting them to take that first step can feel like a real challenge, since even talking about the climate can be overwhelming or polarizing for so many of us. If you have friends or loved ones like this, then I'd definitely recommend joining Anne, and organizing your own screening of The Week in August!
They'll give you everything you need to get started. In September, everyone will come together to talk about how it went, and what actions were taken.
If you want get involved, or just learn more, you can sign up here.
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Support the Hurricane Beryl Recovery Fund in Houston; Hurricane Beryl relief in the Caribbean.