Nevertheless, She Found Another River Metaphor

I strongly feel my role as an artist is to facilitate human connection through this visual language that I've spent years learning how to speak.

Keeping empathy and imagination alive is feeling more crucial than ever.

In the onslaught of the 24 hour news cycle and constant analysis of what's going to happen and what did happen, it's left me feeling somewhat frozen, powerless, unsure how to respond in a way that's not just adding to the noise.

Oof doesn't that state of being just *squash* creativity? Which is probably the point.

It can feel like if we don't move quickly, we'll miss our chance to act. But responding thoughtfully means listening first, and that pause very effectively activates the fear of complicity.

Recently, a friend shared The Emerald podcast (thanks Lauren!), which explores the human experience through myth, story, music, and imagination.

I was immediately drawn to an episode titled On Powers, Great and Small. 

It's a layered and poetic production, but one line landed especially hard for me:

“The waters of Zion Canyon sing that gentle persistence over time is a power.”

While flash floods can rapidly move sediment, it is the constant, slow flow of the relatively small Virgin River that carved thousands of feet through hard Navajo sandstone. Patience, consistency and time reign over force and urgency.

The quick fix is what keeps us in trance, perpetuating depression, anxiety and addiction. Gentle, long-term persistence is the key to our own freedom.

I've come to realize importance of this approach in so many aspects of my life: in my artistic practice, in how I care for my body, and in the way I nurture my relationships. 

I believe it applies just as deeply to how we shape our collective future.

When I'm repeatedly faced with the question, What can I do? the answer doesn't have to be grand. I can simply choose the next right thing. Choose love. Again and again and again.

Surprisingly the other night for me, this came in the form of lovingly embracing my own anger that was begging to be acknowledged. Turns out a good scream, riot grrrl in my headphones, and a brisk walk under the full moon is a helluva way to start melting the ice.

From here, I can get creative. I can persist.