[L, diary, ephēmeris] 1) BLOG

OUR FORCE FOR COUNTERACTING CHAOS IS CONNECTION

Maria Popova recently began another pertinent Brain Pickings post that, even though written at the start of Covid19, continues to nag me to upload into a blog post.  She began with: We might spend our lives trying to discern where we end and the rest of the world begins

Below, I've summarized her essay, based on Jan Mooallem's book, This Is Chance!: The Shaking of an All-American City, A Voice That Held It Together,  into a shorter version that resonates with my expanding experience of this epic period of world events, the last being relevant to having to close my Saturday Art with local children--loved as if relinquishing my own--for safer environs.

 

Alexis de Tocqueville

Democracy in America

 

“At certain periods a nation may be oppressed by such insupportable evils as to conceive the design of effecting a total change in its political constitution; at other times… the existence of society itself is endangered. Such are the times of great revolutions… But between these epochs of misery and confusion there are periods during which human society seems to rest and mankind to take breath. This pause is, indeed, only apparent, for time does not stop its course for nations any more than for [individuals]; they are all advancing every day towards a goal with which they are unacquainted.

 

“There are certain epochs in which the changes that take place in the social and political constitution of nations are so slow and imperceptible that [people] imagine they have reached a final state; and the human mind, believing itself to be firmly based upon sure foundations, does not extend its researches beyond a certain horizon.”

 

 

Jon Mooallem, Author

 This Is Chance!: The Shaking of an All-American City, A Voice That Held It Together

 

“…there are moments when the world we take for granted instantaneously changes; when reality is abruptly upended and the unimaginable overwhelms real life. We don’t walk around thinking about that instability, but we know it’s always there: at random, and without warning, a kind of terrible magic can switch on and scramble our lives.”

 

 

Genie Chance,

letter to her concerned mother in aftermath of Alaskan earthquake:

 

“I must admit that during that first dark, cold night, as I began to understand the tremendous scope of the problems that would be facing us in the months and years to come, I toyed with the idea of sending the children out on a plane to stay with you until everything settled down. Working there in the headquarters, where the reports were coming in from the survey teams throughout the city, I realized that there could possibly be a real health hazard for some time to come. I realized that the schools might not be able to resume for an indefinite period of time. It looked for a few hours as if the damage had been so extensive to all utilities and streets that even a semblance of normal life could not be resumed for weeks or months…

 

…But this was just a fleeting thought in a weary mind. I would have been ashamed of myself had it not been for the next thought that came so swiftly: We must be together… That night I saw strain, heavy hearts, and fear in people separated from their loved ones by the sudden disaster… As long as we are together, we are confident of the future…

 

That Good Friday night I knew that we had survived miraculously. And for this reason, there must be a purpose to our lives. Apparently the children must sense this, too. For they have remained calm. They have been fully aware of the emergency, but they have not feared. We are proud that they are such dependable, responsible youngsters. I would not undermine their confidence in the future — in themselves — by sending them away for safety.

What is safety, anyway? How can you predict where or when tragedy will occur? You can only learn to live with it and make the best of it when it happens. These children have learned this — and they are all the better for it. They were in the midst of devastation. And they feel that they are a part of the tremendous task ahead in rebuilding this land we love… The children are not afraid. Their father and I are not afraid. Please, don’t you fear for us.”

 

Jon Mooallem, Author

 This Is Chance!: The Shaking of an All-American City, A Voice That Held It Together

 

“What is safety, anyway? Genie seemed to be conceding how randomly our lives are jostled and spun around; that nothing is fixed; that even the ground we stand on is in motion. Underneath us, there is only instability. Beyond us, there’s only chance.

But she’d also recognized a way of surviving such a world. It was what Genie had created in Anchorage that weekend by talking on the radio, and what she planned to stay focused on now: not an antidote to that unpredictability, exactly, but at least a strategy for withstanding it, for wringing meaning from a life we know to be unsteady and provisional. The best she and her family could do was to hold on to one another.

 

Our force for counteracting chaos is connection.” 

"Briefly, I now have two of the most wonderful books, written by Marie Popova. One is called THE VELOCITY OF BEING, Letters to Young Readers. Here is a drawing discovered after class, influenced by this book:

The literary part of the book is a little above the kids but so gorgeously illustrated they are continually drawn to it, responding to the stories within the letters as best they can.  With almost non-exisistant English, Chay Chay had no idea what the letter says about the power of reading, but the illustration reached him, motivated him, and I had the private joy of discovering his path in the casual clutter left behind at the end of the day.

    

What delights me most is that I can find a match for every one of his illustrations except the figure at the top of his copied ladder and moon...I think he has marvelously inserted himself in it.     What do you think?"

 

Later, this email was edited into a larger post but the kids continue to surprise me with private examples of the book's continuing influence.  Last week, this was discovered in Resty Joy's drawing book:

There's a funny story about my not realizing she'd copied/edited it from Popova's book.  I'd taken it seriously, as if SHE were the one who'd discovered the described note in her drawing, had found it inside one of OUR books, so I was almost frenzied searching through the bookcase seeking a book old and worn enough to be the one...until she produced Popova's  Velocity of Being.  Here's the page that inspired her:

Confession Time:  Lately, I've been feeling emotionally unable to effectively continue holding Saturday Art with the kids, as well as having the energy to maintain this website. I was about to pull the plug on both.

The last four months of full focus on hauling PILAR, the re-stepping of her masts, re-rigging them, too, has been intense; ultimately rewarding but depleting on several levels. So, while my boat's needs were being met, the kid's needs were not. That morning, I'd gotten frustrated and disgusted with Resty Joy's lack of interest in an, admittedly hasty ('busy-work') word game, given to the others.  Later, after my bad attitude towards hers, but prior to being suddenly allowed to see what she'd been working on, I'd seen her sitting alone in the far corner of the room, hunched over her drawing book with a large and droopy pillow on her head, and knew I was failing.  Time to quit.

Everything changed when she freely brought me her book to show what she'd been working on.  This, from a child who hates having her photograph taken, who routinely speaks so low she cannot be heard then says, 'Never-mind' when asked to repeat what she'd said, and routinely answers, 'I don't know,' to any inquiry for a personal preference...though she does know because she's extraordinarily bright when it sneaks out of her.  No wonder I'd thought that the lonely letter found in the artwork story of a library book, asking someone to write to the author, had inflamed my own guilt for earlier being dismissive towards her!

Sometimes the way she designs her art work, or asks a difficult question, or repeatedly watches one special video of a Israeli/Palistinian Women's Peace March, I am filled with awe. Humbled. 

Saturday, it was clear that it is not for me to judge how much or how fast what I have to offer bears fruit.  Selfishly, it bears fruit in ME, so I will continue to provide a Saturday place of exposure to exploration for the children to visit.  And, I will continue to post what we do there...in all it's gloriously messy humanity. 

In that, Maria Popova guides me, again:

 

"Looking back on the most important things I have learned about life, I keep returning to a central paradox of our culture: We know that the flower doesn’t go from bud to blossom in one spritely burst, yet we crave stories of overnight success and spontaneous self-actualization, disinterested in the tedium of the blossoming, in the incremental ripening by which we become who we are, the innumerable tiny choices, the imperceptibly small steps by which we pave the path to our own destiny in the very act of walking it. We are each a continuous becoming, our future a rosary of presents strung along the strand of presence — presence with the smallest corpuscles of existence: the smell of a neighbor’s curry slipping through the window cracked in midwinter, the atlas of wrinkles on the hands of the cashier scanning the box of strawberries at the grocery store. Sensing, noticing — the raw materials of presence, and thus the elemental stardust of our becoming."

"What you produce is not always sacred...What is sacred is the time you spend working on the project, and what that time does to expand your imagination, and what that expanded imagination does to transform your life."

 

The above quote came from the book my niece, Alison, recently sent to me:  

BIG MAGIC, Creative Living Beyond Fear, by Elizabeth Gilbert. 

 

When I read it, I immediately put down the book and opened the laptop in order to make a quick post of it to my home page, which I've begun using somewhat like one of the social media platforms I don't know much about, other than they are quickie ways to connect.

 

I have not used any of them because I'm not very good at quickie anything.  Generally, I have to labor to unearth what it is I want to say or accomplish; the lasting effects of a perfectionist mother impatient with young children's learning curves. Sigh.

 

However, ingrained ways can be modified, I'm happy to report, which is why I responded so strongly to Gilbert's observation about being creative...it is exactly what I persist in conveying every Saturday with whomever joins us for the afternoons of discovering our collectively innate creativity.

 

It is exactly what gave me the courage to post something further to this site's navigation bar category, SATURDAY ART. 

 

When I'd set up the new format, several months ago, I'd had my biggest hopes for showcasing the truly delightful artworks being produced by children and adults who swore they had no abilities for art.  But then the sheer variety of what we were doing overwhelmed me...I wanted to make short videos rather than still photos, wanted readers to feel they were participating, too...but all that took time to do right, and DOING IT RIGHT (NOW!) became a taskmaster I couldn't face.

 

So let me say right now that I'm determined to not let that old buggaboo--needing to be PERFECT--keep me from practicing what I preach to the others:  it's okay to not be perfectly skilled--ever. 

 

It's GOOD to make imperfect things because that's how we learn and grow and make our lives happier and more rewarding. 

 

Maybe not perfect, but as deeply rewarding as if it were. 

 

And who's to decide Chay Chay's little sculpture isn't perfect?

 

 

 

Joel Paquet's essay about committing to be an artist stunned me while reading his Open Letter to Artists. As it unfolded,  a challenging view of myself as an artist was revealed.  His intentional message was supportive of artists, for those days when the work artists do doesn't work.  As I read I applied each of his headings to myself--Innovation, Resilience, Perseverance and Faith--and slowly the painful awareness came of how very far I was from artists who'd made full-time commitments to their craft.

I've always thought of myself as an artist. Totally. Without a doubt. I grew up in an art-filled home, have always been creative in whatever I've put my hands to. But suddenly I realized I'd never gone to the extent of being truly fluent in any of the skills I enjoyed using regularly.   

So, IT HURT to see this new vision of myself. Especially so since the equally disconcerting epiphany of making choices about living life as either a Tourist or Resident. I was appalled  to think I might be just a TOURIST in the world of art, not a RESIDENT. Was I really a person who played the field rather than commit 'for better or worse'  to my artistic gifts?

Expressing this painfully close-to-the-bone idea to a friend who also has multi-abilities and interests, his reply was:

"On identity, I feel it’s too limiting to see yourself as “resident artist”—period.  Of course, you’re more than that when you think about it.  You’re a teacher, a craftsman, a counselor, a boat lover, and on and on."

His observation was consoling. My life wasn't totally devoid of consistent commitment. Persistent dedication to developing skills of nurturing, specifically for any child or old boat, has been fundamental since I was young.  Support for the path I have trod was also to be found in Pacquet's letter, under the heading, Perseverance :

 
"Like Karma, the artist's life has it's own organic path if you let it unfold naturally. Work ethic, love of the job, proximity and opportunity all play a role in developing a life in art. Be clear about these and adjust your life to maximize your gifts."

...and then there was also this to reflect on:

“Before you tell your life what you intend to do with it, listen for what intends to do with you.”

-Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak

Which seemed to be what I had done when gazing back at the evolutionary projects that my love of kids and boats and art had produced. I saw the shaping of my life and theirs, saw the honing of our abilities for pursuing even further visions for each of us through the art we've shared.  From the mirror of what I continued to pursue when writing to other friends my commitment to revealing art everywhere, in all our lives, was clear:

"I have not given up on the dream of creating a Cultural Community Center for the locals…a place where artists and writers and musicians and handcraft artisans can have workshops, not just for the able-bodied but for the Theresa’s of our community, too.  I want a gallery where their work can be displayed, and a boat building shop where tourists can come help the out-of-school youth build little sailboats or kayaks, and other tourists can rent them and bring an income to the locals…I want a restaurant, too, to serve organic foods from my garden…to sell fresh bread we grind our own flour for, and bake ourselves…and a fish market/eatery where the fishermen can sell their catch so they don’t have to put it on trucks for markets outside our community, so that even the locals won't have to travel to Siaton to buy fresh fish!  Silly system. 

I mean, really, is that too much to ask for? Just a simple Community Center…"

Though, for now, for just a few of us on Saturday afternoons, that is happening when we make art.  When we bring it into our lives in ways we'd never known possible.  When we begin to see ourselves as artists, as creative humans able to bring our individually unique visions into being. Valued.

Which is what this website is beginning to showcase.

This post was begun in September of 2017 and abandoned, censored by an internal critic as too...critical:

"...while reading a FASO essay about committing to a life as an artist, I had an epiphany that segued with an earlier realization of no longer wanting to live my life as a 'Cruising' sailor, again. 

Elsewhere are the chronicled  puzzle pieces of life lived as a Cruiser, and how, after sixteen years of building and living aboard our boat, followed by eight years of sailing South and West through the Pacific, Bill and I came into a fulfilling combination of nine (the two of us) and eight (widowed) years of living at anchor in the Philippine Islands, Port Bonbonon, Tambobo, at the very bottom tip of Negros Oriental. 

It was in that latter time of making solo decisions when thoughts of no longer wanting to 'cruise' the world began to surface.  It no longer seemed as adventurous, meaningful way to live. Though I still felt fully committed to the community of people living lives aboard boats, it was the life of visiting foreign cultures as a tourist, sailing from anchorage to anchorage, skimming the surface of the lives and lands, that began to feel like a thin diet of hors d'oeuvres. Since arriving in the Philippines and the serendipitous creation of One Candle Schoolhouse, I  had, for the first time in my life, become an active participant of a stationary community.  However, very much like someone not able to fully commit to marriage, I've been on a tourist visa for seventeen years even though I had become more Resident than Tourist. Why?  As with the presence of children tipping the scales more than the sanctity of marriage to a Wanderer, I had been accepted into the lives of the families living on shore.  Through the students, and somewhat painful self-examinations, I'd begun to discern unexpectedly rich nuances of  a life lived fully within a different culture.  

Arguably, there were many other places to happily live out my life, but was there really any place BETTER?  Even if still on a tourist visa, not a committed resident, THIS place and I had evolved past the 'honeymoon' stage.  We have a history together.  We've become entwined, warts and all..."

This is where I will stop quoting from the aforementioned 'post-that-might-have-been'. What remains of it will be reborn within the next couple of posts. A legible transcript of the photograph above has been posted, which reiterates this post while providing transition into the plethora of other bottled-up 'wanna-be/NEED-to-be' posts not made during the past three months.  Bear with me.  Wonderful things have been happening. Lots of photos.