A retiree I once knew and loved shared a piece of her story with me at work one afternoon as she whirled by in her long skirt and dangly earrings. Always busy, she was, creating art and offering her talents to the community into her eighties.
A long time ago, when she was pregnant with twins, and living her early years in the age when women mostly stayed home amidst domestic expectations, her husband passed away unexpectedly.
She had to give birth with the knowledge that she was the lone parent and provider of four. A momma. How to make it work when her plans as she knew them were doused in one cruel moment?
What was birthed, along with two healthy twins, turned out to be a renaissance. Through pain and exhaustion, she discovered abilities within her that she had to reach deep down into the darkness to discover. I wish I could remember which profession she found, but it wasn’t one that a person could just enter today without diplomas and experience.
She was a hero of the mightiest kind. She flourished in her career, and somewhere along the way became a respected and honored artist, and a beloved mother. She stayed active in her artwork as long as she was able, and while she was still flourishing at the retirement resort, had the honor of her work displayed in the local arts district downtown, and inside a bustling international airport.
She was a member of the Greatest Generation: a people forged from challenges that never stopped coming. When the retirement place was still full of them, it was like walking through a building full of Phoenixes, the ashes they rose from blown and scattered by the wind long ago.
I feel like the last few years have been a series of birth pains. It’s our time–all existing generations. The outcome could look like anything. Nothing but raw honesty will do if is to be victorius. You see, most of us haven’t been repeatedly sifted quite like the Greatest Generation, and I’m afraid we’re choking on the ashes. It looks like we’re not even done with the battle yet. This could take time to figure out.
Did anyone else feel a restlessness before COVID took hold? The arts had been on a nose dive with remake after remake in theaters. Literature followed suit, and continues to do so. AI is the latest technology used by designers, and humanity is a weakening heartbeat, steadily replacing itself with what’s easier and faster. It seems our culture has found profit to be the most revered god.
The simple act of telling the truth, or challenging someone’s opinion amidst new cultural demands can destroy a person’s life now. No redemptive creatures can come out of such an unhearing mob.
So what to do with 2023?
I’m going on an in-depth, honest exploration of the very things we’re losing ground on. I’d like to invite you to join me, and/or do your own honest exploration of the things that most trouble you. I’ve decided to study a new idea every month and see what it looks like through the lenses of The Arts, Wellness (body*soul*mind), Family, and Wonder. I’ll post about it here at the beginning of each month, and will show my discoveries on Instagram 2-3 times a week. Some of those will spill onto my facebook author page.
Anxious to recapture originality, I’m beginning January with New in a new way.
I’m planning on stearing clear of poliltics as I want to get to the root of things. On some posts I will talk about my faith, so that it remains completely honest.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. Join me.
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