This is “The Wisdom of the Universe” by Canadian artist Christi Belcourt. For me, it’s completely captivating and feels right, right now. It’s beautiful from across the room and then as you get up close, you see it’s true complexity in millions of tiny dots- like needlepoint. I was lucky to see this at the Renwick a couple of weeks ago. Now I’m glad I bought the shirt. You can click the image to read more about it and the artist.
I’ll admit that I cried yesterday after hearing that Virginia schools would be closed through the end of the year. I called my dad, faked it through my last few conference calls, took a walk with a dear friend, and then set the bowls out for chili. The evening went on.
It’s a strange feeling to miss something you still have. Amidst the confusion, anxiety, and economic loss, my gain has been precious time with my husband and children. We’ve been doing (for the most part) the things we like doing anyway- just a lot more of it. We’ve been reading, cooking, crafting, playing in the backyard, playing on our phones/iPads, walking our dogs, and just hanging out. We miss closeness with our extended family and friends but have been connecting in other ways.
Overnight, the relentlessness of our routine evaporated. Staring at the bottom of the pot, the things left were the only things I ever really wanted. For that, I am grateful. We are just so lucky.
The tear in my heart is the tremendous loss and worry others are going through. It’s real and now. Because their suffering is active, I want this to end. It won’t be as soon as we’d like but it will eventually end.
As we scatter, I’ll miss the closeness we had. Maybe it’ll even feel too short. But, we’ll start again because it’ll be the next right step.
When we reopen, we’ll all be getting to know our new world. It’s hard to guess now how noticeable the shifts will be. I have hopes for more.
I hope employers encourage telework more.
I hope we sit down and eat together more.
I hope we get outside more.
I hope old friends connect in creative ways more.
I hope we all give each other a bit more space, time, and kindness as we all try to figure things out.
And I hope our children internalize how connected we are. They’re going to need that perspective later to settle other destined problems.
PS- I write when I want to know what I think. It’s examining then pressing this one view between the pages. It’s for next year when the uncertainty is gone, and I want to remember. And it’s for forty years from now. My grandkids likely won’t hold a book, but I hope to give them another reference point in their history lessons.
What do you want to save about this moment?