22 March 2020
One of the ways I’m coping with self-isolation is by working to keep what I can of my daily and weekly routines.
Waking at the same time I would if going to campus to work, walking the dog at the same times along the same route each day. That quiet cup of coffee in the morning, the slow ease of a glass of red wine at night.
Wednesdays I strip the beds, wash sheets, and put crisp, new bed linens on, with assistance from a particularly ‘helpful’ cat 😀
Saturday mornings I clean and wash the litter boxes, empty out and clean my fridge, mop the hardwood floors, clean the bathroom.
These small acts so much a part of my ‘normal’ weekly schedule, I’m finding, are helping to make the crisis we’re all sharing a bit less overwhelming, providing some balance in a regular, now-that’s-better, way.
“Routine” as a descriptor often gets a bad rap, but right now, it feels a lot like comfort.
Make art about the comfort to be found in routines.
21 March 2020
Make art about growing, about growth, especially growing through difficult circumstances.
20 March 2020
Make art inspired by the following quote.
“Touch has memory.”– John Keats
19 March 2020
The jonquils in my yard have emerged, blooming like glory. I was struck while outside this morning, this first day of spring, with a kind of surreal awe at the beautiful constancy of this mother planet.
Even as we’re surrounded with fear or panic, which as a species we’ve seen again and again over millennia–famine, war, plague 😦 — even in the darkest days, there is the arrival of beauty.
Make art about what’s emerging.
18 March 2020
Nourish the body. Feed the soul.
Thinking on all the things that fed me these last few days. Yes, the meals shared with my son, but also my brother-man Eric in West Virginia, with his guitar, serenading the world with an Irish song, the silly memes my sister Adaire and I sent back and forth to each other, my young alum Katlyn and her friend selflessly working to collect donations for families and kids in need in quarantine, my current students excitedly discussing their short stories and poems in our online class, my friend Brigid writing a new comic who shared the pages with me, the sound of my friend Lynne’s laughter through the phone, my old dog sleeping on his purple pillow, my silly cat Moco biting my elbow because I was ignoring him, the humming of the bees across the burgeoning green in my yard, the multitude of good people out there doing good work teaching, sharing, cooking, donating–coping, all of them, in beautiful, humane, and community-minded ways.
So much, in the midst of this fear, to feed the soul.
Make art about one thing recently that fed your soul.
17 March 2020
Often we’re too busy to notice the view right in front of us. One of my students, when I asked about what they missed being away from home, softly described the view of the city at night from his bedroom window in what he called ‘the projects where I live.’
“At night,” he said, “the lights go on forever, and every light, I think, is a soul.”
Make art about seeing the world through your window.