Create and Be Human
Dear Friends,
I’ve been having trouble finding the words this week. The country is raw with sorrow, astonishment, shock, fear, and anger over the school shooting in Uvalde, as another city becomes a synonym for grief. We think ourselves into the minds of the parents, preparing for services rather than summer holidays. Then we return ourselves to our own bodies, carrying the horror back with us. It will be part of us, for a time. In Texas, it will ripple. Ruin whole families. A whole town, forever. There are limits to empathy: I can think myself into the minds of the grieving, of the broken, but not anyone who tells me a child is less important than a weapon.
The internet is full of resources. Calls to action, Senators’ phone numbers, links to Everytown. Articles about how to talk to your kids about a school shooting.
Taking action is important: it is the most direct route to change, as unlikely as that change feels. Even with these suggestions, I’m finding myself stumbling through the motions of my everyday routine, barely able to look at my child, for fear my brain will generate all the dangers she could encounter–what if a horror like this happened here, as singular and precious as she is? And the thing that reels me back, that lets me continue to be here and do the work I need to do, is the act of creation.
In times of immense feeling, I become further convinced of the absolute necessity of creativity. The emotions of this week are too big to carry. Creating something can help us to extract them from our bodies and set them down for a while. And then, when we share what we have made, others can also see art that expresses what they, too, feel. Feeling seen and known doesn’t bring back those we lost, but it can help us connect. It also helps us heal.
This week, you may have wept. You may have swallowed hard and pretended you were fine. You may have called your representatives. You may have pulled out your credit card. You may have doomscrolled, you may have looked at a photo of each one of those children, you may have gotten into an argument on Facebook. You may have felt and felt and felt.
But if you haven’t yet created something, it’s time to try that now.
Reach for the thing you know how to do, express the way you know how to express. Tap into the creative nature inside of yourself, for this, as well as our grief and rage, is what it means to be human. We’ve all been sitting with inhumanity this week: the inhuman monstrosity of murdering children. The inhuman coldness of our leaders who do nothing about it. Making art is an important human act.
Here are some creations that have made me feel less alone with my emotions this week. May they do the same for you.
Billboard by Paula Crown.
“Collective Nouns for Humans in the Wild” by Kathy Fish.
“Families Together” by Joya Mukerjee Logue.
“Back to School Shopping” by Kate Baer.
Can you fix it? By Liz Climo.
“Good Bones” by Maggie Smith.
Take good care,
Dot
News & Updates
I’ll be taking some days away from work over the next few weeks, so our next newsletter will arrive in your inbox at the end of June. I hope you’re also able to take some time away this summer to rest and be with the ones you love.
While you won’t see a newsletter for a few weeks, we do have several blog posts and art prompts on the calendar, including a great piece from Laura Miles about how to break up with your phone. The best way to catch all of our new posts as we share them is to follow us on Instagram.
Blog Posts
Having trouble with sleep is incredibly common, so it can be hard to get an idea of what to try first and when to ask for help. In this week’s Ask a Therapist blog, we chat with Clinical Director Adele Stuckey and Associate Art Therapists Laura Miles and Jenna Kelley about what to do when you think anxiety might be to blame. Why can’t I sleep? How can I stop my mind from racing at night? And what should I try before seeking extra help?
Links We Like
In times like these, as you can see, I’ve always found it helpful to turn to the poets.
In addition, Anne Helen Petersen expresses my rage at having to use the phrase “always” in my previous sentence.
Gabrielle Blair is measured and persuasive when all I want to do is cry.
A statement from the American Art Therapy Association on this week’s events.
Letting it wash over me. Shoreline by Evan Blackwell:
