Missing Pieces

Looking at the meaning of community in two contexts

I tried to edit the last post, but the app was being uncooperative, so I’m moving on to write another update. It’s not been an easy week adjusting to the chilly wet and dark of the Pacific Northwest. And, of course, this is ironic given that I kept telling folks in Santa Fe who suggested that I move there that I could not live there full-time because it is too dry and sunny. I got back to the Pacific Northwest on a Monday night last week, and by Wednesday evening, I was looking at two bedroom places on real estate websites for Santa Fe. This investigation of housing was more playful than serious, but it speaks to the fact that this transition has been a bit shaky. My local sense of community feels fractured at the moment, at least compared to being in the intimate creative furnace of a residency, even a small one. Ah, transitions…

It feels like an overhaul of my life is in process. Part of it has to do with nearing the completion of my book project (I’m going to work hard at the editing this month). There’s also a sense that I need to find new ways of accessing community because my time in Santa Fe this past month was so rich - the easeful dance between creative solitude and social connection felt delicious. With my decision to end my Thursday night meditation group before leaving for Santa Fe, I no longer have that regular gathering (as small as it was). The Plum Village tradition of sitting meditation, walking meditation, and discussing a reading in a formal way helped me slow down and be present in a very deep way, but I sensed it was time to take leave of my leadership with that group.

(This revision of these three paragraphs was written on December 3rd, after posting the original essay on December 2nd): Last night, I was reminded that I belong to a circle of women, several of whom I’ve known for 8 years. There are six of us. We meet twice a month to develop the skills to become who we are meant to be and offer the world, and to process wounds that have hindered our growth. We share our particular gifts with each other. The woman who invited us to become a circle is a gifted coach, body worker, and visionary. Some of us first met in a workshop that she led on Quantum Physics and Magic almost a decade ago. As our group continued to meet over the years, we developed rituals and practices to expand our understanding of the changing world, of each other, and ourselves. Our live interaction gives me a sense of connection and meaning, and the vulnerability that we’ve cultivated with each other has helped each of us grow into stronger and more capable and creative women.

Despite the love that I receive and offer in the circle, I’ve had to recognize that it does not meet all of my needs. But how can any group or person meet all of what one requires? I would like more creative peers locally, old & young, straight and gay, particularly people with whom I can talk about art, ecology, social justice, spirituality, and the challenges we face in the world today. I have strived to create that kind of cohort multiple times, but the Pandemic and grief took the momentum out of those efforts. It’s time to try again.

I have rich virtual communities with my weekly parenting group (for young adults on the spectrum) and my meet ups in writing groups hosted by the London Writer’s salon. We will see what emerges as I stretch into new contexts, but I need to avoid spreading myself too thinly because my creative solitude is also precious.

More reflections about the SFAI residency: On my last Friday in Santa Fe, I had the pleasure of taking my friend, Dominique Mazeaud, on a field trip to Taos. I mentioned Dominique in a previous post from March of 2025. Dominique and I first met in 2016 when she drove down from Santa Fe to pick me up from Albuquerque Airport to take me to Santa Fe. I remembered that she brought a fresh bottle of water for me to make sure I would not get altitude sickness. Her thoughtfulness and kindness remains a very core part of her personality. Dominique and I had known about each others’ work for a while due to our connection with Suzi Gablik, so each time we meet, I feel we are paying a sweet homage to ancestor Suzi (the author of The Reenchantment of Art).

While in Taos, we visited the Harwood Museum and saw a show of artists who went to art school on the GI Bill and settled around Taos. The map above was painted by native artist, Eva Mirabal. It feels important to highlight this image, despite its missing pieces, during the so-called “Thanksgiving” season.

We also saw some of Agnes Martin’s paintings in a chapel-like space that she requested before she became an ancestor. One of the paintings in that room called “Friendship” was a piece that my friend, Thalia, remembered from the days when she and Agnes were walking buddies in NYC. I’ve never been a fan of Agnes’ work. It’s too dry and ethereal for my taste, but it was a sweet little museum with some other fascinating exhibits, including a room devoted to local community culture. See the text below.

Dominique took me a local restaurant called Earth Oven that offered a really tasty Lebanese lunch, and then we decided to drive to Tres Padres to explore the Earthship Community. I remember being fascinated by this project when I was exploring the intentional communities arising around the world. The architecture is quite unique with every home is off the grid, using rainwater for hydration of the humans and the more than humans. The buildings themselves are made from recycled bottles, cans, and mud, and everything is energy efficient. The interior greenhouses looked lush from what we could see. We did not make time to do the tour, but we were glad to see the location (a very flat & dry terrain with snow covered mountains in the distance). We chatted with a young woman who had been living there happily for the past few months, and I tried to imagine what it might be like to live there. Despite the beauty of the location and the values represented by the community, mbody immediately felt constricted. Gotta listen to the body.

In terms of any missing pieces, I had to look back to my calendar and see what else was going on that I did not mention in previous posts. What’s extraordinary to reflect upon in retrospect, is that I was often in Zoom spaces doing all manner of things - I was being interviewed for a new book on socially engaged artists and I facilitated a zoom discussion with Annie Sprinkle and Beth Stephens for a WEAD exhibit that I juried. I checked in with my London Writers’ Salon accountability group, every Monday and Friday, and every Tuesday, I was in an online support group with parents of young adults on the spectrum. Also virtually, I ran my Saturday morning workshops on “Art as Medicine for Catastrophic and Transformative Times” for the Seattle Public Library (and I plan to continue running these in the winter, if possible). In person, I went dancing, went to a couple of museum shows, a piano concert, worked out at a gym, attended meetings with my SFAI cohort, and had lunch with old friends and new ones. I’m getting exhausted just typing this down. It seems that I like to maintain a full life, but I also like to rest, so I’m going to cultivate more of that in the coming months of winter so that I have the energy to complete my book project and move on.

In upcoming posts, I’m going to write about the sociological experiment that is dating as a 72-year old widow and what it means to solo parent a brilliant and kind 30 year-old who has struggled with mental health, OCD, suicidality, addiction, and grief. But I will have to receive Sam’s approval before I post anything. How’s that for a cliff hanger.