47: Week 10

10 weeks feels like a decade, like so much has happened that it couldn't possibly be 70 days. A constant merrygoround that brings on dizziness, nausea, and a back and forth of outrage, sorrow, shakemyhead moments. Each week bringing a daily dose of unbearable horrors, illegal maneuvers, blackmail, bullying, stupidity, and attacks. The New York Times keeps a daily tab of just some of these injustices. When I began chronicling the weeks, I first thought about how courage would be necessary to face these times, to maintain a sense of self throughout these times, to not fall too deep into a well of teared fears. This past week, I realized this moment also called for a different sense of courage--courage to live, not abandon joy, embrace community. Hope. 

I spent six nights on the east coast visiting family, feeding my NYC self, and celebrating Patti Smith. Every day brought smiles, reminders about the centrality of art and how I need that in my life, and a grateful sense of being very much alive, something that I will damn well fight to keep no matter how dark some of the dark is.

The Polonsky exhibit of Treasures at the New York Public library felt timely. I stopped for several minutes in front of this display highlighting the concepts of fortitude and patience, the names given to the lions that greet you when approaching the library. Fortitude seemed so apropos for this time, that need for "reslience that enables each of us to encounter danger, or bear pain or adversity, with courage." Similarly, exhibits of liberation literature, such as Milton's Aeropagitica arguing for freedoms, felt eerily timely despite its publication date of 1644.

Standing in a gallery at the Metropolitan Museum of Art the following day, immersed in the sublime, nature's vast power held my gaze for quite some time, and now, five days later, still brings me right back to standing in front of Casper David Friedrich's "View of Arkona with Rising Moon" falling into all its beauty. Art carried me through the days, teaching me new ways of seeing and reminders to savor what matters.

And that courage to live shined its brightest when I attended the Musical Tribute to Patti Smith at Carnegie Hall. In a sold out crowd of Patti Smith fans, we sang songs together as different musicians offered their love to Patti. We applauded and cheered, all celebrating music and words that touch us deeply. For almost three hours, I stood so present, letting the familiar songs leave their presence deep inside me, just in case, I need to relive some of those moments. Patti closed the evening with a rousing reminder of "People Have the Power" and an important reminder to "use our fucking voice."

Yes, use that voice in our art, in conversations, in actions, in resistance.