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I’ve lost my voice the last few weeks. Not literally. I wish it were literal – it feels like that would be less painful.

No, it’s nothing physical. It’s not that kind of laryngitis. Political, personal and professional happenings of late have landed a sucker punch that’s left me breathless, angry, and frankly, beside myself. I don’t even know what to say, where to say it, or how to speak.*

So I do what many of us do, in times when we need deep counsel and something meaningful but would rather hide behind bright pictures and quick distraction: I surfed social media. This time, Pinterest delivered an important reminder, by way of the brilliant Shel Silverstein.

I felt my voice start to recover as I read this. So I read it a few more times, gained a little more strength, and remembered that laryngitis is temporary, no matter how bad it feels at any given time.

So here’s baby step, a first attempt, at the many things I’d like to say right now:

• I’m angry as hell at our legislators and leadership that continue to disregard the needs and reality of our people. I cannot fathom how threatened women make some people feel, that those people continue to try to control and censure us. (Don’t even get me started about treatment of People of Color and marginalized communities; I know I’m late to the “woke” club, and have so much more to learn before I speak, but the egregious horrors of hate crimes and police violence we see on a day-to-day basis right now feels like an assault on all that we hold dear).
• I am also reminded that, on a personal level, my instincts are generally good, and when I ignore them, that’s almost always when depression comes to roost.

I’ve got a bit of emotional laryngitis right now, but I know that I will get my voice back soon. And in the meantime, I am so grateful for the many people — legislators, activists, community leaders, colleagues, and friends — who are shouting from the rooftops for what is right. I will be back in the mix soon enough, and if they need a break, I hope I will be able to shout just as loudly and effectively when that time comes.

Thanks, Shel Silverstein, for delivering just the message I needed at just the right time, today and since I was a kid.

And thank G-d for the artists. What would we do without them?

*Sidenote: I like to think that others wouldn’t be able to tell how hard I’m struggling if I didn’t write this here. But now the cat’s out of the bag. We should all come clean about our struggles more often, in my opinion.

New Englanders survive the winter for a week like this. The first really warm, sunny week that screams spring (or in this case, with highs near 80, early summer). We race for our shorts and sundresses, ignoring the goosebumps that arise with every breeze. We rush to grill something, anything, to spend just a few more minutes outside. We raise our heads to the sun and bask in the warmth.

For many of us, this winter has been especially long and dark. We’ve wondered where we are headed as a society. We’ve read the headlines and wondered what the hell is wrong with us as a people. We’ve fought the urge to give in to powerlessness, and we’ve struggled to keep reading, even as the stories get more and more distressing.

The circumstances of our world haven’t lifted — the headlines this morning have me even more stunned than ever, with national airlines dragging paying customers off of planes and college students hazing classmates by using their allergies as a weapon.

But for just an instant, when we walk outside and see fresh green grass, we feel that eternal sense of hope that comes with spring.

It’s one of those feelings that you can’t explain to a person – they have to experience it.

Recently, I saw a local art show that captured the feeling on canvas. Carrie Simon captured the joy of springtime, that moment of hope, in an art gallery. Even before this week had arrived, I remembered this feeling by looking at her images. Rich, lush flowers that flowed endlessly on every inch of her canvas. Pinks and blues and purples and yellows. Just rich, lush and full of joy.

On a rare occasion, art can capture a moment that’s otherwise ephemeral. This is the art we hold on to. Whether a poem (Wordsworth’s The Daffodils) or a painting, these are the emotions we seek to capture. And when it works, boy is it beautiful.

So to my fellow New Englanders, enjoy this week. Bask in the sun. And if you can, see if there’s a piece of art that reminds you of this moment – the inspiration, the joy, the hope. Make note and hold onto that. We will need it. Because as the weather improves, we will begin to take it for granted. It will get hot and muggy, and our enthusiasm will wane.

We will need the hope and unbridled joy of this week. And the only way to capture it for a rainy day is through art. So thanks, Carrie. I’ll be revisiting your paintings again soon.

Because isn’t that what we want from art, to capture a moment and bottle it for us, ready to share at any time?

Color is my go-to mood booster, especially this time of year. I’ve been known to search Pinterest by color (put “Magenta” in the search engine and see what happens to your psyche when you are greeted with a wave of hot pink dresses, rooms, paintings, and more). Immediate rush of energy.

I did it this weekend by buying all yellow flowers. It’s like sunshine just took over my kitchen, and it makes me smile every time I sneak a peek.

It’s amazing how many artists across geography and time have played with color to amazing effect. Some of my recent favorites include: Mark Rothko, whose interplays of colored squares make me want to stare and stare; Gustav Klimt, whose use of gold and geometry are immediately recognizable; Vanessa German, whose contemporary sculptures and use of color speak their own language; Kofi Agorsor, who brings the colors of Ghanaian art into the contemporary art world.

I can’t possibly name the many artists who inspire me with their remarkable color work. Nothing is better than a new color combo that surprises, an emotion expressed perfectly in a particular shade, or a nuance in shading that introduces a whole new way of looking at something.

Color speaks to me in a way that words can’t.  As we dig deep to keep fighting for what we believe is right, as we seek to ensure civil rights for all, as we try to connect with one another in new and different ways, a colorful palette is powerful. Colors themselves can make a statement when we don’t have the words to articulate the thought.

Do you love a particular artist’s palette? What color speaks to you? Can color motivate you when times are tough, energy is hard to come by, or calm is light years away?