The Desert Light

And what grows in the dark

I woke with a deep sadness this morning. My whole body seemed to be aching with the grief of this time in the world. A friend, Celia, had texted me on Signal to join the protests at a national park near where I am living. I could barely walk to the bathroom, so the idea of setting out to a park that I’ve never been to was not high on my list of possibilities. I did check on my map app to see which one was closest to me, and there was one near Albuquerque (a city whose name I am just beginning to learn to spell), a place called Petroglyph National Monument. Tomorrow I’m going down to Albuquerque to meet a friend and see an exhibition of contemporary indigenous art, so after the museum visit, I’ll head over to that park and bring some spells and intentions to protect that park.

So many reflections are unfurling at a breakneck speed in this pause between February’s session at the Santa Fe Art Institute and the March session beginning next week. I’ve been sitting with the fragments of what transpired in my personal realm and how the events that I can’t begin to digest are ravaging peoples’ lives in so many places.

Yesterday, I participated in the global boycott, knowing full well that it may not have much of an impact on anyone. We do these things, like signing petitions, calling our representatives, and showing up at rallies, never knowing how much impact any of this will have. Some people are saying that large protests have had no impact whatsoever on the power dynamics at play in the world right now, and that may seem to be so, but it’s clear to me as a participant that these spectacles of solidarity do raise the spirits, if nothing else. I recall from reading various social theorists and historians that these events do have a cumulative, eventual impact, leaving an unavoidable residue on the powers that be. One could argue that the sands have shifted due to the impact of media technology since this article in the Atlantic was written, but I’m not ready to be so cynical that I won’t show up for an embodied protest.

One day of boycott may function more as virtuosity signaling rather than a political statement for some, but if those people with disposable income (what a concept!) can learn to spend less in the world of big corporations, our ecosystem will be better off. Of course, there are many more boycotts scheduled for the coming weeks, some directed at particular companies like Amazon and Target. I’m glad to read that the Tesla boycott has seemed successful thus far, but I won’t be satisfied until the idiots causing so much damage and distress self-implode. I’ve been meditating on that one.

I spent much of the afternoon yesterday with my new and delightful friend, Mariana, hiking in the Arroyo Hondo. When we stopped for lunch, we paid in cash at a local diner. It’s so great to meet someone with whom you have so much in alignment - our lives are both entering new chapters, and we have done enough work on ourselves to really sit in a place of acceptance and to embrace the delight in the present moment.

Later in the evening, I was taken to a big art opening at SITE gallery in downtown Santa Fe. Having avoided big events like this for many years, I was reminded by how alienated I can get at them. I tried to enjoy the diversity of people who showed up there, but the art did very little for me. I’m sure the artists were deeply committed to the vision they had, but it just didn’t speak to me. Given the moment we’re living in, it seems so decadent that galleries are showing work that seems to be speaking about aesthetics and little more. The experience gave me yet another lesson in why that world is not for me.

Today I had a wonderful conversation with an eco-artist friend who is recovering from surgery, and we talked about how important it is and will be for subversive art to emerge from places under the radar (of course, it’s already doing that all over social media) and how our experiences of “success” as a creative being is quite different from the mainstream one. Our conversation made me feel more committed to get my book finished so that I can devote myself to the underground work that is required in this time.

March's residency begins next week, a few new artists & writers will arrive to join us. We will see what the shift in energetic chemistry offers. I’ve surrendered to the universe offering me messages as I continue to flow in a space of “not knowing” much at all. Since my grad school days when one simple, but vulnerable drawing yielded an outpouring of stories, I have recognized that whatever art form I choose to use, I am doing this work for collective healing, not just my own. And, the universe knows how much we need the essential magic of art with this intention right now.

Here’s a collection of photos that I’ve taken in the past few weeks - some near our residence at SFAI, and others taken in Lamy, NM or on the way home from there.

These last four photos are from the campus surrounding SFAI - lots of interesting public art.

For those of you with either a prepper mindset or whose catastrophic thinking has got you thinking pragmatically, here’s a link to a blog about how to prepare for martial law. Perhaps adrienne maree brown and Zak Rosen and his podcast, The Best Advice Show, will offer you gentler ways to think about preparation.

Take care of yourselves as best you can.