Blog

Since the election, I started taking voice lessons. The symbolism isn’t complex: when the world looked bleak, I had an undeniable urge to conquer my fears and make my voice heard. Years ago, my fears manifested in nerves whenever I spoke publicly. After five years of Toastmasters and a ton of practice, I can speak. Now it’s time to take my turn and sing in public. (Shhh, please don’t mention this to anyone. I am so. not. ready.)

We do a vocal exercise called “The Reeds.” You imagine a space in front of your eyebrows, relax, and let the sound come. It’s as if the sound comes through a thread from your sternum to your forehead, bypassing your throat completely.

The Reeds are my own personal form of magic.

I have been told often in my life that effort isn’t the only thing. I have been told often that, if you just let go and open yourself up, good things will flow in. I haven’t easily found proof of that.

But the Reeds are my version. The sound is not beautiful until I let go. I don’t need to force it. Doesn’t mean I don’t have to work hard – even in the Reeds, my diaphragm is working hard to power me up. Forcing things, however, doesn’t work in this case.

I find this exercise comforting during challenging global times. We can’t let up, can’t stop being who we want to be, can’t collapse under the weight of things. We can, however, delight in wonder and awe, celebrate those we love, and envision – always – the world we want to see.

Let’s place our sights in a good spot, envision what we want to see, and let the music flow through us. Find our own Reeds and make our own magic.

When I see others this morning, they will ask me, How was your weekend?

To which I will have no good answer.

Because my weekend wasn’t relevant. This weekend was our weekend. It was a global weekend, where the specifics of what I did or didn’t do are beside the point.

This weekend, people around the world celebrated the Spring Festival, also called Lunar New Year, especially across East Asia including places like China, Japan, Korea, Mongolia, and Vietnam.

This weekend, communities around the world joined together for International Holocaust Remembrance Day with tributes and events, including a beautiful one in West Hartford.

This weekend, the United States turned away people traveling from specific countries, with valid visas, detaining them for days, because of a presidential executive order.

This weekend, the White House issued a statement about the Holocaust that didn’t mention Jews or anti-semitism at all, instead remembering only “innocent people” who died.

This weekend, people marched. People spoke up. People connected. People said, we are a country of immigrants. We are a country of diversity. We believe in every person’s civil rights.

It wasn’t my weekend. It was ours. And it was quite a weekend.

I don’t know about all of you, but I have been overwhelmed lately, riding a rollercoaster cresting at the demonstration of our collective power and crashing on the awareness of the damage being done with each stroke of a president’s pen.

I have fallen short of words, again and again. I have fallen short of art to write about, not because there hasn’t been gorgeous, meaningful art being made, but because I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound trite or hollow. I have tried to assuage my anxiety, disappointment, rage, and exhaustion with comedy, literature, music of every type. Sometimes, it helps me to forget for an instant. Often, it has felt like nails on a chalkboard, inadequate for my headspace.

So imagine my surprise when, amidst all of this, two movie scenes keep popping up, actually, succeeding in calming and comforting where others failed. They are not ones I would have guessed:

The scene at the end of Steel Magnolias, when Shelby (Julia Roberts) has died, and the ladies have a knock down dragout screaming match. Sally Fields, playing the grieving mother, pops veins in her face and neck where I never knew we had them. Then smart-ass Ouiser (Shirley Maclaine) makes a crass comment and they laugh through their tears.

Forgive me, I might have the sequence slightly off (it’s been at least 20 years since I’ve seen it, after all). That scene, old as it is, still resonates as a perfect example of the rush of emotions that comes with grief and the comfort that comes with true friends.

The other scene comes from Moonlight, when Chiron is taught how to swim by his mentor, Juan. As a reluctant swimmer myself, the intimacy of that scene and the patience that Juan displays provide a deep sense of comfort. The fact that swimming becomes a lifeline for Chiron shows this moment as a true gift. Somehow, thinking back to that scene helps me connect to giving, kindness and comfort.

They don’t fix today’s issues, and we have so much work to do. But they do provide some relief.

What are your guideposts right now? Your go-to art, entertainment or otherwise to help keep you in the game and on your toes? I can’t wait to hear.

“You have to see that show – every song is just beautiful.”

“Check out my photos from this sculpture garden in Israel.”

“My kids spent the evening making signs.”

“That book we read tore me apart. So sad.”

“That documentary about OJ Simpson? The one on ESPN? It’s one of the best things I’ve seen on race in America. Beautifully done.”

These are just a few quotes out of my day yesterday. None of the folks quoted are Artists with a capital “A.” Just ordinary folks appreciating art that’s accessible.

Art – whether we take it in, make it, or discuss it – is available to us. It’s a support, a salve for whatever ails us, a boost when we need to celebrate.

So whatever you are feeling today, tomorrow, in the days to come, take time to notice and appreciate art. Turn to art if you need it, as you need it.

Patton Oswalt, a comedian I respect and admire, offered some good advice yesterday that I will share with you:

 

I’ve written about art every day for the last 30 days, as a way to prepare myself for tomorrow.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

It helps. Art helps. That’s what it’s supposed to do and always has done.

There is no time to waste on things that don’t nourish us. If spending time with your family nourishes your soul, do it. If watching Real Housewives makes you happy, do it. But if you turn on the TV to make the world go away and then come away a few hours later feeling empty, go searching for something more nourishing. We need you and you need to be there for others, and there’s no time for emptiness when there’s so much to fight for.

I’m making an inventory:

• What makes me laugh, real cleansing belly laughs?
• What gives me energy when the tank is dry?
• What brings me peace?
• What music can I turn on when I can’t listen to the world anymore?
• What passage can I read that makes me believe in something and inspires me?
• What artists can I seek out, again and again, to affirm that I’m not crazy and I’m not alone?

I have my answers to these questions. Do you?

Once you have answers, make it easy to call on these. Make playlists for every mood. Buy the goofy movies you need, and be okay with fast forwarding straight to your favorite scenes. Print out that poem that makes you cry and keep it close. Bookmark those YouTube videos. Follow your favorite author.

Every single option is a good one, if it’s good for you. Just own it, and let’s make sure we have what we need to keep ourselves going in tough times.

Art, however you define it, can help, in whatever ways you need it. If you go and get it.