Coming Up for Air

Almost sunset. Acrylic on sketchbook paper. 10/26/2022.

Well.

It's been quite a stretch of time since March: a house move, caring for my father in four different living situations, a studio move, my father's death and funeral, and a whole new set of responsibilities, all of which has taken place during a pandemic which -- for us -- continues to be a concern and a factor in many of our decisions. We returned from our latest trip to central New York on Sunday night, and for the first time in all of these months, there's no more moving to do: I have a little bit of free time and the chance to consider what I might want to do with myself. 

So much has changed, and I have changed with it; this is not a simple matter of picking up where I left off, either last March, or before the pandemic began in 2020. When I ask myself, "What has not changed? What are you still passionate about?" the answers are easy: the people and creatures I love and care about; art; music; writing and reading; the natural world...and learning. But because of COVID, that "learning" component isn't going to include a lot of foreign travel. We are not ready to start traveling to the kind of destinations we used to, and we aren't going to be participating in large indoor group activities or crowds, or going to restaurants or parties with a lot of unfamiliar people. Pretty much everyone we know who has done these things has eventually gotten sick, and unfortunately we aren't in a position to risk that; even with all the vaccinations and boosters, there's no way to tell how the virus will affect an immuno-compromised person. We're using public transportation again, and going to certain kinds of gatherings; we do have people over here and have gone to friends' homes; and in good weather we did plenty of outdoor socializing -- and, luckily for all of us, that balmy weather stretched well into November.

The height of autumn. Watercolor in sketchbook. 10/9/22.

But last night it snowed in Montreal, and it's been snowing all day today. The stark fact, as I consider winter, is that society has moved on without us; we are like people with a disability, and it is up to us to figure out how to structure our lives in the new reality in which we find ourselves: how to combat isolation, deal with loss, find meaning and connection and purpose within certain limitations.

So the deficit side of the balance sheet includes limited travel; no longer singing in the choir, which was a huge part of my life; and some limitations on gatherings and events. I'm still dealing with grief, loss and change -- and I'm older. I may not feel it very much, but it's a fact.

In an undecided middle area are my publishing company, Phoenicia, and my involvement with social media, with the latter tipping decidedly toward less involvement rather than more, though I'll continue connecting with my creative community on Instagram.

Late fall view from my studio window. Acrylic on sketchbook paper. 10/20/22.

On the positive side is a greatly-improved, integrated living and work situation that's going to work a lot better for us. I have several unfinished projects begging for attention -- two book projects, and the body of drawings about Iceland that I began long ago and which is about 3/4 finished (more on these in a subsequent post.) My piano is finally in my home again, and there's good soundproofing here; I've been playing nearly every day and working on learning some new pieces of music. The piano is out of tune, but that's temporary, and maybe there will be new and different opportunities for making music with other people. The weekly online book group I helped organize back in 2020 is still going strong, and I've actually made a number of wonderful new online friends over the past couple of years, and a couple of new in-person friends too. Access to nature is greatly improved by the fact that I've inherited my father's house in a beautiful rural place, and though it's six hours away, we can go there when we want a change from the city. 

City at night. watercolor and gouache on sketchbook paper. 10/13/22.

Finally, there is this blog, which has endured all sorts of personal, technological, and societal changes since it began in 2003. As a firm believer in owning and controlling one's own online content, I've no intention of letting it go, and instead, have been thinking about how to infuse it with more energy now that I have some time.  Could it be more educational, more helpful? Could it help to launch new projects and bring people together, as it has in the past (quarrtsiluni, Phoenicia Publishing, online groups)? What else is there that I haven't considered? There's nothing wrong with social media functioning as a hub where interested people find content and go to it, but as our disillusionment with these social platforms and their capitalist agendas grow, could blogs regain some of their gravitas and a new sense of purpose? I wonder.

It depends somewhat on our expectations. I do know that I don't care about the number of followers or readers, and we are long since past those heady days where aspiring writers thought they'd become well-known through their blogs -- there's no way that someone steadily writing good but long-form posts would become famous like a seductive Instagram influencer, not in today's world! But careful and engaged readers and writers still do exist: Dave Bonta's weekly poetry blog digest bears witness to that. Blogs like Language Hat, Velveteen Rabbi, Hoarded Ordinaries, and Whiskey River have kept on quietly, steadily, thoughtfully posting for nearly two decades now, and there are many others. If these are not impressive and worthy bodies of creative work, I don't know what qualifies.

We can't tell what's ahead, as we've all found out, but we can certainly think about the present and what to do with it. I wonder how you are feeling right now, and what your insights are -- I'd be happy to hear from you in the comments.

 

Comments

[Mimosa]

Beth, once again, you've hit the nail on the head. I've been thinking about what next, too, even as my life continues to be in constant flux. I came to your blog much later, but I try to read all the posts you've written in the time since we first became acquainted online. I admire your desire to keep moving and stretching towards what you are passionate about, and this blog both documents the motions while inspiring others. If anything, a blog like this brings us all together to openly question, appraise, evangelize about, and reconcile again, loose-tie fashion, about what we are looking at and looking at again and again. Isn't it a marvel that we are still seeing things despite the deluge we've faced, in different ways, since 2020?

[Sharyn]

Hi Beth, We've been dealing with a lot of changes and upheaval also the last couple of years and it's not over. Long story. I'm glad you are not giving up on the blog, I always look to see if you have posted.
I'll look at the other blogs you mention, it would be great to find some more thoughtful writers.
Snowed here too in the White Mountains, melted and then froze to crud. Sigh, get out the tractor and shovels.

[Roderick Robinson]

The latest (ie, fifth and final) slice of Netflix's TV series, The Crown, deals with what, for the sake of brevity, might be called Dianagate. Much to its eventual chagrin the BBC played a significant role in what turned out to be a rather horrible tragedy. However I was struck by an utterance by one of its characters, the then chairman of the BBC board, that the BBC's primary aims were to inform, educate and - almost as an afterthought - entertain. Given I remain virtually untouched by formal education I can't reasonably claim to have educated anyone. I may well have provided some info here and there but my tendency has, I fear, been mainly towards entertainment. Some of it facetious, alas. But serious subjects don't only profit from serious treatment and too much seriousness can lower morale. Also an over-serious attitude towards, say, Trump may by contrast play into his hands. Think of Art Buchwald, P. J. O'Rourke and some tracts of E.B.White. Just a passing thought.

[A. Murphy]

Beth, how well you describe that uncertain what-next feeling. I'm glad you'll be continuing with this blog. And your "City at Night" piece is gorgeous! Best wishes from Ottawa. ~Andrea

[D]

I got here via Ronni Bennett's list of elder bloggers. Occasionally I go to her old site and look at the list of blogs and see if I come across any that are still being published and who hit a note with me. I've gone over to Instagram and hit FOLLOW for you there. Your pictures are wonderful, and that's what I use Instagram for, to see wonderful pictures that bring a bit of joy.

[Beth]

Thank you, Mimosa -- I'm glad if my blog does the things you say it does! Because it is diary-like, I'm writing for the readers but also to encourage myself and, sometimes, figure out just what I do think. I've always been grateful that a blog, though, is NOT a private diary but a place where other people can engage, react either silently or out loud, and sometimes even find community and a sense that none of us are as alone as we sometimes feel.

Sharyn, sorry to hear you too have been going through a bunch of changes that still aren't over. I think it's partly this time of life, but I never expected so much at once! Wishing you courage and strength to get through it.

Robbie, I hear you about too much seriousness not being helpful -- but I'm afraid I will always be earnest and serious in my writing, and perhaps not as entertaining as I'd like to be, but sheer entertainment doesn't seem to be why people come here. I do hope that there's some beauty and calmness though.

Andrea, always good to hear from you, and I'm delighted that you liked that nighttime sketch!

Dear D, thank you so much for coming over here and for following me on Instagram, where I post more frequently than here. I'm really pleased that you find the pictures worthwhile and positive. And thanks for commenting and telling me you were here!