The Northern Dark
Feeling far from myself, I wasn’t planning to write this month. I thought, I haven’t painted in weeks, what do I have to share? And waiting for creative inspiration has felt as hopeless as praying to winter for an early sunrise. But I was gently reminded that it’s not always about the joyful outputs or celebrated accomplishments; even heaviness, darkness, and transition can live within creativity’s dormant slumber. And right now, to honor that feels harder than accomplishment itself, so here I am.
The darkness falls heavier than anything I remember. It’s the literal darkness, where 7am consistently mistakes itself for 2; but of course the emotional darkness: returning to a home enraged in mourning has been both heartbreaking and isolating. Thousands of people gather in mass protests in -20F weather, and coworkers shiver in meetings as they shake off the cold from the hours spent outside on ICE patrol. It is nothing shy of admirable. On a human level, I am in awe. Communities are coming together in the best ways possible. On a personal level, while I am physically here, mentally I am so far. The communities are coming together. And I stay on the outskirts, wrapped in heated blankets, witnessing and empathizing with these horrific events as though I was reading the news from my apartment in DC.
I am disappointed in myself, the feelings of distance from Minnesota and my hesitation to fully lean into the communities it’s built and building. Minnesota burns bright with resilience and resistance, far from the quiet still I remembered as a kid. While I previously sought that energy, to fight and be heard and engage in something bigger, it only feels audacious to try to rise to those adjectives while I can’t seem to win my own little fight against the morning dark. 15 years intentionally away and now I come crawling back, seeking new life in this city while it mourns. It’s paralyzing and my impatience is so selfish.
This transition is odd to say the least, but in between the moments of disillusionment and sadness, there is so much I am grateful for: warm home cooked meals on icy days, taco Tuesdays featuring 2016 prices, bounding pups in freshly fallen snow, and even the glimmers of potential friendships. With time I know I will find my way back to my paints and sketchbooks. For now, life is no more than a day at a time and, without much light to navigate, this has to be enough.
I made it to the Art Shanty Projects on the frozen Lake Harriet in Minneapolis. I can’t say I connected to the event, but Minnesotans sure know how to show up!
Media Musings
Good Hang with Amy Poehler: Rachel Sennott - If you’ve seen I Love LA, you should listen to this interview with the creator and main actress. Even if you haven’t, give it a try, her voice is equally annoying as it is addictive.
The Exacting, Ephemeral Art of Ice Carving - Is this not the most Buddhist thing ever??
Somebody Somewhere: This is one of the most tender shows I’ve seen in a while. I binge watched it before moving in preparation for life in the Midwest. It’s a subtle comedy of heartbreak and finding ways to make dreams feel full in tiny towns.
Thanks for sticking with me. See you next month in hopefully better times for us all.