For several years now I've kept myself to a Monday deadline on this blog--it keeps me writing about my studio practice, my craft projects, collaborations, and any other inspirational news that seems to fit neatly, or not-so-neatly, into the category of "art+life". I treasure this space, this weekly commitment, and this community I've found in all of you. But sometimes life forces me to step outside of the normal content to express what is most pressing. Because, ultimately, there is very little divide between the various parts of our hearts and heads and busy crafting hands.
This weekend I lost a very dear childhood friend in a horrible car accident. As if that wasn't enough, his entire family was in the car with him and we also lost his wife. The details of the story are nothing short of tragic so I'll suffice to say that, fortunately, their three children have survived without fatal injury and are with the extended family now. It's almost too much to write in this space but I wanted to show up here and write something. And so here I am.
I keep trying to turn my swerving emotions towards compassion, tenderness, and peace. I keep trying to imagine what compassion would look like as an object not an attribute. Ultimately, I'm sure that it has wings. And so I keep thinking of these wings. Maybe seagull wings or eagle wings or smaller and more familiar like a sparrow or a wren. And tenderness? Maybe it has fins. Maybe flippers. Maybe a horse's mane or a unicorn's horn or something metal like an airplane. And peace. I imagine it is an arc of light like a rainbow that I can send.
I imagine that by next week I will want to return to my usual "art+life" posts but today I can only express my grief. The huge space in my heart that feels like a silhouette of where my dear friend should be. I have to believe that, at the very best, the burden of grief can also open us to the deepest possibilities for compassion. So thank you for sharing this space with me, even in the moments when I'm not sure what I might have to offer, or where I should begin.