Dear Friends,
In May, the calendar overflows.
“We have to get together this weekend,” my friend Maggie tells me at the end of April, “because I’m out of town every weekend in May.”
“When should we get the kids together?” I ask Elizabeth on May 2nd.
“Uh…looks like we’re free on…the 23rd?”
My mom comes to visit for a weekend, as do my brother-in-law and his girlfriend. I make plans to go to Georgia for a wedding. My husband is on duty one weekend for work. The mornings stack up with tasks, the afternoons with playdates for my daughter.
It’s the season of the to-do list, with little space for other things. Namely, little space to create.
“Paint with me, Mama,” my daughter asks as I spread her art supplies on the table.
“I will once I fold this laundry,” I tell her.
But by the time I finish the clothes, she has finished her canvas, and I’m corralling her towards the bathroom sink in an attempt to keep the piles of clean t-shirts from being smudged with purple paint.
Every week I see some headline scolding that we’ve learned nothing from the pandemic. The CDC’s mistakes. Testing failures. Communication breakdowns.
Maybe it’s true personally, too. For here I am right back in 2019, renewing my membership in the Cult of Busy.
When I get busy, creativity feels like the first thing to fall off the priority list. My paints languish on the shelf. Usually I like to spend time in reflective writing for Mother’s Day, and this year I dashed off a three-sentence Instagram post.
I wonder, sometimes, if we are ever free of the academic cycles of our youth. I remember how May felt when I was a student. The exhaustion. The feeling of being over it and yet having to give one final push. The stress of performing well. The dueling feelings: being happy to have made it to vacation, but sad about the endings, the change. At saying goodbye to people who were moving on.
The May that stands out most in my memory is from the year I spent studying abroad at Oxford. The winter is long in England, and in late May, the world finally warms. The workload hadn’t lessened a bit–my cohort and I were still churning out thirty pages of writing every two weeks, still holding our breath as our tutors pried our arguments apart. All of this kept us from what we really wanted: to lounge around in Christ Church meadow, to look at flowers, to drink a Pimm’s cup.
To switch from the exhale to the inhale, from the scurry of extreme output to a state of passive receiving.
So perhaps it makes sense that May feels busy, and also that I find myself in a period of creative inhalation rather than making new work.
My brilliant book club friends come over for Indian food, and Ashley and Morgan want to know what I’m reading.
“Nothing,” I say, before I realize it’s not true. I’m spending May re-reading books I’ve loved before.
Tara Westover’s Educated. Euphoria by Lily King. And even the important pre-movie-viewing re-read of Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. (Verdict: Must read, must see.)
My brain is at rest, soothed by the balm of knowing the endings.
I walk past the neighbor’s peonies and am taken by the urge to…do nothing. I don’t want to paint them. I don’t want to photograph them. I don’t want to possess them or grow them. I just want to walk past and pause for a moment.
I often miss the value of passive creativity. The inhale, the appreciation, the observation: these things are just as important as the deep dive, the flow state, the hard work.
In the office, I tell Matt about how my daughter is really into crayons right now, but not for their intended use.
“She’ll draw a little,” I tell him, “but mostly what she wants to do is break the crayons in half and peel off the paper.”
“Ah, yes,” Matt says, totally unsurprised. “That’s a really good sensory activity.”
How easily he spotted the value where I’d seen only destruction.
Right now, I’m not putting paint to paper. I’m not reading heady literature or writing anything especially profound. It’s as if, in this season, I’m living in the stretched out creative space I made during the early part of the year.
I’m taking in the colors, the connections. Spending time with old friends, both real and fictional. Usually I’m an evangelist for practice: I believe in showing up and using creativity as a mindfulness tool throughout the day.
But right now, I think it might be a season to let it all slide. Go to the special events. Take it all in. Ready yourself for summer, however it is for you. Maybe summer is something to be survived in the DC swamp, or a season peppered with vacations, or your time to thrive in the sun and do your best work.
Maybe, in May, we don’t need to be making anything. Maybe it’s enough to revisit our old favorite things. Maybe the flowers can do the showy work for us.
Take good care,
Dot
News & Updates
Alexandria Art Therapy is now offering virtual art therapy for clients outside the Northern Virginia area. If you’ve been intrigued by art therapy for yourself or your child but haven’t found a practice near you, let us know. Openings are now available for telehealth sessions for clients in applicable states.
Art therapy through telehealth is not available for clients located in CT, DE, KY, MD, MS, NJ, NM, NY, OR, PA, TN, TX, AZ, UT, or WI due to licensing requirements.
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New! If you’re interested in becoming an art therapist, check out our new 20-page download, “Becoming at Art Therapist,” now for sale on our website. Whether you are a high schooler exploring career options, an undergraduate honing in on a major, or a professional considering a career change, we hope these insights and resources will help you learn more about art therapy.
We’re holding space for you—waitlist forming now. Laura Miles (LPC, ATR-BC, ATCS) works with therapists who are seeking to prevent burnout and navigate their own life stressors.
Laura understands the challenges you’re facing at work in this demanding field. With experience as a supervisor and as a clinician in private practice and inpatient settings, Laura is here to support you and help you find balance. Email info@alexandriaarttherapy.com for more information.
Links We Like
What to say when people get bad news.
I love these blobs.
Esther Perel on the question that comes up in all new adult friendships (and a free Youtube workshop!).
Made me laugh: cone of shame as art.
You likely recognize Kehinde Wiley’s work (he did the portrait of Obama in the leaves). Here’s Wiley’s latest portrait series, “HAVANA.”
Cartoons about anxiety: “Because everyone loves a little mystery but not necessarily when the mystery is yourself and why you can’t ever relax.”
Really drawn to creating and embracing more documentary-style family photos: “It’s about embracing both the beauty AND the chaos.”
Serving meals to young children, or working in an upscale restaurant?
“I’d love to see where you create your beautiful work!”
Looking forward to diving into this reading list of books about motherhood, once I’m done with my re-reading wallow.
It’s May, let’s party. Photo by Nicki Sebastian:
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As always, thank you for giving me something to muse over and learn more about myself 🤗