Sometimes, when the world seems like too much, I pull a heavy, fuzzy blanket over myself and disappear into a novel. This month, as the world spins, and wobbles, I’ve been reading The Paris Network--our creative community’s book of the month. I invite you to pick up this story (or another great book) and see what happens when you forget your surroundings, your time for a minute…
Suddenly you’re in France, World War II, the occupation. You pop into a bookshop. The owner writes “poetry prescriptions” to keep the townsfolk strong, runs a resistance book club with banned books. Poetry falls from the sky in airdrops. And it’s all based on true events: the banned books, the resistance publishers, the literature and poetry woven into the novel, like “Liberté” by Paul Eluard.
Under the story, there’s a truth that will, no doubt, resonate with you:
Sometimes, literature (or art) is more important than food.
Maybe you’re like me, with your book and your fuzzy blanket. So you already know that literature takes you away from your own worries.
But in a way that helps you explore the world, humanity, reality from a different perspective--and come back with a new understanding.
But what if the power of art and literature is stronger than you and I, curled up with our respective books under our fuzzy blankets? What if it’s more than either of us reading, writing, or doodling alone?
In dark times, art is the beacon of hope--and our connection to each other.
Days are getting darker here in Europe. It’s colder. We’re wondering what’s next. Some of us are writing to make sense of it all. Reading to make sense of it all--or to escape it all and come back wiser. Dipping our paintbrushes and fingers into tints, or delving into art exhibits.
But also, we’re meeting up with warm cups of tea to dive into our creativity together.
Because maybe, in strange times, art is what makes us strong. Art is what makes life worth living. Art is what gets us through--it’s all of these things.
But it’s also what ties us together.
In fact, the way we reach out to each other through our words and artwork, our blog posts and online meetings…It all reminds me of other of our book club picks: All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr.
In it, the radio proves to be a beacon of hope, carrying the light of science and ideas across a darkened continent. Many frequencies we cannot see are elicited in this novel, radio, elusive colors, love.
I think back to Werner and Jutta, characters in the novel. Children hiding in a cold room, listening to a forbidden radio program still broadcasting from a neighboring country--and hanging onto the words that remind them of their tie with humanity:
“What do we call visible light? We call it color. But the electromagnetic spectrum runs to zero in one direction and infinity in the other, so really, children, mathematically, all of light is invisible.”
—All the Light We Cannot See, Anthony Doerr
I love this image of the beacon--something seemingly ephemeral, wavelike that unites us beyond borders. And, as with great art, literature--and love, beyond the limits of time.
Think of art, literature, science, all of these ways of remaining human in times that challenge our humanity. Think of all the ways we reach out to each other--all the frequencies we use. Seen and unseen.
The point is not to create alone, to remain human alone, not to stay creative or resilient alone.
It is to forge these connections, to use all means--and frequencies possible. The point is to find each other.
And maybe that’s reason I stay up late on a cold night after a long day--and I write these words to you.
It’s why some of us meet each month to read and discuss books together.
Or why we meet from our various corners of the continents and forget it all--and write. Or doodle.
And maybe it’s why you’re there, doing the same.
What if a wobbly world brings out the creative in all of us?
I’m thinking now of this fascinating discussion in Berkley News, several scholars came together to discuss Literature and the arts in times of crisis during the Covid-19 lockdowns in 2020.
Of course, there were discussions of literature, art and music that sprung up in response to upheaval and uncertainty. But what we can all take away from this discussion are these words by Anthony Cascardi, dean of arts and humanities about what happens during a time of crisis, or upheaval:
“The normal structures of our life which we take to be determined, and necessities, suddenly fall away…You find you can live life artistically, you can create a different way to live, you can create yourself. Your life is not path-dependent, the way you thought it was.”
It turns out that we create not in spite of an uncertain world, but because of it.
The stranger, the crazier--and yes, sometimes the more inhumane it seems…the more we create. The more we have to say.
And the more we need to reach out to each other.
What is your beacon of hope in strange times?
What helps you escape from the world and come back better, more empathetic, wiser?
What keeps you connected?
What are you writing, reading, creating or sharing these dyas?
Tell us about it in the comments.
And what if you joined us for a workshop or a writing prompt?
As a way of reaching out and bringing us together, I write prompts and hold live, free writing workshops--and book chats. If you’d like to get my prompts, invitations to my next live event, and a short and sweet email series designed to get you writing something short and healing about your life and from the senses, be sure to join the newsletter.