My April Deep Dive is a full month late—partially due to a front-loaded wedding season, partially due to some serious nervous system reprogramming I wasn’t expecting.
I recently heard someone describe trauma recovery as a series of “false floors.” The bottom falls out.
I’m still very cocoon goop, and I’m sure it’ll be a bit two-steps-forward-one-step-back, but think I’m starting to find some new footing. And as always, my Artifice conversations provide the best balms and boosts for whatever I’m working on.
Olga echoes many previous Artifice guests when she describes art as “not so much about how well you can draw or paint, but more about how well you can see.” For example, she says, we imagine a forested mountain all dressed in green, but when you really look at a far-off peak, “it can actually look blue.”
I like the way Olga’s version of this lesson specifies that heightened seeing isn’t necessarily about seeing more, but seeing more realistically, allowing yourself to understand things that aren’t as they seem, letting your perspective shift accordingly.
I’ve been clocking an awful lot of these cases lately.
My last two essays both focused on welcoming flow, letting go of overscheduling and overwork. I’ve known for a while now that I need to loosen my grip in these ways, but girrrrl this programming is way deeper than I thought. I spent January-March thinking I was getting it, but kept discovering that I was just packaging my same old hustle patterns in whimsical new shades.
I think I somehow expected that leaning into flow, trusting my in-the-moment desires, giving myself the scheduling flexibility to work on whatever felt right on a given day would magically increase my overall productivity. I so deeply wanted my fight-or-flight programming to continue producing the same survival mode output while somehow also allowing me more rest and play.
Per Olga’s lesson, I think I’m finally seeing this devil’s bargain more clearly. But god, it is painful. There is a lot of grief all around it.
In making steady progress on healing my nervous system, I’m finding I’m so, so tired. A body running on adrenaline and cortisol can really power through, but a body running gently needs time and tenderness. I’m genuinely surprised to be discovering that my body actually needs rest in an unambiguous way.
I’m grieving the level of “control” I’ve inhabited throughout my life. So much of my identity is built on being the person who gets everything done, done well, done early. Letting go of that is very, very scary.
But I’m also deeply grieving all of the years (decades) I’ve spent in cellular emergency. It’s unspeakably sad. It’s an incomprehensible loss.
Olga says, making something into an artwork is “giving importance to a subject or an idea.” It “elevates the subject” so it can’t be easily overlooked. It calls for earnest considering.
It’s perhaps a bit abstract, but I’m really trying to elevate the subject of my own rest and health. I was raised to understand rest as a dirty word and – sincerely, it would take three additional essays to start to unpack the baggage I have around health. So, I’m trying to give them the art treatment. I’m bringing them up from the cellar and giving them the best room in the house.
At least that’s the idea…
I expect mistakes. And I have pre-committed to quite a bit of hustle this summer, so this project arc will need to be a long one.
In the meantime, I’m buoyed by a few other nuggets from Olga.
She says, “my growth happens between bodies of work. When you’re working toward a show, you get into this mode of getting things done, expressing. And when you’re finished with it, you get to look back at it and reflect. And you get a bit of a break from creating, but you get to absorb new information and evaluate your own work…it’s the time of reflection, research, and planning for the next thing. [New] experiences get absorbed, and that forms the soup for next time.”
I love this framing. I’d love to learn to truly luxuriate here.
Finally, in the context of the grief I’m feeling over the loss of parts of my identity (as well as the loss of some long-term goal posts), I’m profoundly soothed by what Olga says about her artistic voice. She says, “I’ve grown to be ok with not having found it yet. That vision? You might never reach it, but all you can do is try to get closer and closer to it. And maybe that’s the whole point – keep improving, keep working at it, letting myself be ok with that process.”
Thank you for these lessons, Olga. Your presence is the most gentle.
For years now, I’ve been very interested evolutionary biology and neuroscience. I love learning about the evolution of our species, what is actually going on in our brains and bodies, deeper truths about how we’re connected to our ecosystems. Of course, art is in the mix. Art is essentially human. We are artists, inherently. And modern neuroscience research proves that beauty, wonder, and creativity are critical to human flourishing.
With all of this in mind, I found myself eager to speak with an expert in bushcraft and ancestral arts. When I stumbled upon Tim’s Instagram account, I knew I needed to get his perspective on my favorite subjects. And indeed, he absolutely exceeded all of my expectations. Our conversation is an all-time favorite for me. Immensely refreshing.
I love the simple way Tim frames the whole idea. He says, “what is art other than merging with that flow of creativity, that inner muse. And it can be any medium.” He talks about cooking for a community barbeque. “Working the coals, I was making beauty.”
Tim continues, “just express yourself fully in your own unique way with your hands and with your voice. And hopefully do that in a way that’s enriching to yourself and the people around you.”
This is so up my alley.
But very little in my life has moved me more than what Tim shared of some of the deeper human lessons he’s learned in recent years.
I often say, one silver lining of having lost my entire family and community of origin has been the opportunity to rewrite and rebuild my moral and ethical framework from scratch, to imagine a radically different way of being.
The Hallowed Wide is a manifesto for this dream. But except in small glimpses, I haven’t experienced the vision in practice. Tim has.
Tim and his community share a goal of “re-villaging” which is, among other things, a radical commitment to love and support one another.
It’s a beautiful idea, a beautiful set of words, but it didn’t come into focus for me until Tim described his relationship with his wife’s ex, the father of her oldest son.
Re-villaging means it’s not enough to keep chilled contact with a co-parent. It means setting aside social scripts, role definitions, and pride to be family to one another in the purest sense of the word.
Tim describes the growing pains of this process, but tells me that ultimately, he and Travis “are a superior man together.”
I frankly can’t explain to you how this hits me. It’s a sort of radical humanity I’ve imagined, but it’s incredibly moving to hear it described in a first-person account, especially when considered in the context of typical masculine scripts. It’s one of the bravest, most centered things I’ve ever heard.
Tim continues, “Travis is my son Angus’s favorite person.” He tells me that the first time Travis held Angus (shortly after his birth), Angus quieted and looked intensely at Travis. Tim says he thought to himself in that moment “oh, they know each other.”
This brought tears to my eyes when Tim said it, and it’s stirred similar wellings each time I’ve recounted it since. It’s a deeper spiritual witness than perhaps anything else I’ve encountered in my life. It’s profoundly encouraging. It strengthens my resolve to continue moving toward my own visions of hallowed connection, searching for and holding tight to my chosen family, the humans I know.
Tim says “if you get together with people who also want to thrive, things will just emerge. Human creativity can emerge and then your unique solutions can come forth, but you have to put yourself in the environment first. And that’s gonna take courage.”
I couldn’t love it more. I couldn’t be more grateful for this testimony. Thank you, Tim.
And finally, darling Katy. She was so fun to talk with. She’s every bit as vibrant as her gorgeous work suggests.
When I first came across Katy’s work, I felt like I understood something about her instinctively. I think it’s one of those “takes one to know one” sorts of things. I could just see that she must be meticulous, focused, rigorous, and also easily delighted. It’s a rare-ish and wonderfully captivating combination of traits, if you ask me.
My brain is so tickled by the way Katy pulls on whatever whimsical strings catch her interest. She’s usually drawing dragons, but sometimes all of her dragons are made of fruit, or maybe herbs and succulents; maybe they’re all translucent and luminescent. Katy tells me she loves a “vehicle for obsessing about something new.”
I understand this absolutely.
Katy’s mother says that when Katy was little, she would “see something shiny in the store and just shake – just stand there and quiver.” The sweetest anecdote. Katy tells me she always loved tiny treasures, little “bits of sparkle and magic.” And she loves Easter eggs too, figurative treasures.
It may be my upbringing speaking, but I think there’s something brave about carrying that sort of whimsy uninterrupted into adulthood. I certainly relate to the impulse, though I do mourn all of the years I spent trying to squash that part of myself.
As much as I have been straddling a dangerous, overwork-y line so far this year, I am very glad to tell you that I have managed to pour myself into some delicious side projects, as well.
I put together a sensory treasure chest for my little grandma who’s suffering from dementia. The last few pre-dementia conversations we had really broke my heart and what was left of our relationship, but I think somehow her lack of memory has given me space to focus my heart on the bond we had when I was a child. Back then, she was a steady supporter of my creative independence. And I do think I inherited a lot of my favorite creative traits from her.
It was a joy to gather a few little items to serve each of Grandma’s five senses. And I had a very cute time writing a bouncy rhyming poem to explain what each item was for. My child self really came back into being for this project; indeed, she was a frequent poet.
I spent about twenty hours researching heirloom rose varieties before ordering fifty bare roots in shades ranging from deep orange to bright purple, then arranged them in an arched ombre pattern in my garden. There’s a little brick path winding through the middle of the rose garden, and a very pretty bird bath, too. Bah! So dreamy. I can’t wait to see them in full bloom.
I wallpapered my pantry with a print featuring lemons and bluebirds. It delights me every day.
I’m developing a signature cacao butter bark for snack maxing. Naturally, it’s topped with chopped pistachios, freeze dried raspberries, and dried rose petals. My latest idea is to incorporate toasted quinoa for a little extra crunch. I’ll be sure to keep you posted.
I’ve been collecting rocks and art and other small treasures for a shelf in my closet where I can check in and center myself at the beginning and end of each day. It goes like this: put on my earrings and bracelets, choose a pocket rock for the day, spritz a little perfume (made by Elodie from Ep. 226 for an extra helping of magic), read an affirmation or two, then go about my business. Of course, I return my sweet items to their spots before bed, completing a favorite daily routine.
For the songwriting class I teach at UVU, I did a bunch of research into Jungian symbolism, applied it to Caroline Polacheck’s astounding album “Desire, I Want to Turn Into You” and made a twenty-page packet the class and I poured over for an entire 100-minute class focused on concept records and symbolism in lyric writing. It was so much fun.
In general, I’ve been leaning into my intuition, my joy, and my divergent thinking in new and exciting ways. I’m getting much better at realizing when I’m in a box and promptly hopping tf out of there. I’m finding a lot more presence. I’m discovering more daily wonders.
I think my next step will have to be making room for sunny side quests and rest. It’s a tall order for me, but I’m determined to chip away at my programming one whimsy, one lull, one lollygag at a time.
And Katy, just in case it pleases you as much as it pleases me, know that I’m out here vibrating in the face of beauty right along with you, girl. And at least several times a month, your work is the catalyst! It’s so lovely.
Welp, that’s it for this deep dive. I’m looking forward to wrapping up Season 13 soon.
Happy June, lovelies!
Emily
P.S. I went to Maine! 🦞
