Just like that, May has come and gone. Despite days that have felt long in hours and full of life’s happenings, the month went quickly. I wonder, how was yours? What have you noticed coming into center or fading to the background of your world?
If I had to choose a theme for April now that it’s passed, I would call it Joy. Joy as an empowering, resilience-making, ground-forming-under-your feet kind of force. It was laughter, again. It was the rekindling of care. In 2020, that year we’ll never forget, I wrote something about joy. I’ll share a small section of it that spoke to me again when I felt the recent call to look back at it:
“Joy is deceptively determined.
It will shift into many shapes to find you.
It will wait in many lines to reach you.
Joy was; joy is, joy will be.”
The beauty of joy in April was that the conditions were imperfect. I remember moments of fear and overwhelm. There were definitely some big cries. And still, joy filtered in like light through leaves to find me.
The month of May, I found a little harder to grasp and name. An awareness I kept coming back to was the nature of change. My heart twinges with sadness at seeing some of the spring flowers go dry and brown here in Phoenix, AZ. But then, the sun sinks and the night-blooming cactus’ blossom with the reminder that when we’re ready to let go of one thing, there is often something else in the space left behind; something special that waits to be seen and known by us.
On our walks, we often pass by a huge mulberry tree that is home to a bee nest at the base of it’s trunk. We’ve always felt the magic that is very present in this home’s front yard- watching the bees dipping in and out of the lush ground cover that encircles the tree, imagining their golden honey dripping into the roots. A few months ago, we saw that the bees had left. A part of me wondered if the magic had gone with them.
Around the same time, I was eating lunch outside and heard the loudest buzzing- soon realizing that bees were swarming the desert willow in our backyard. I gave them space as they settled but wandered over when the noise died down and just marveled at the heart-shaped mass of them hanging from a branch. Could they be the bees we knew? Eventually I headed back inside and when I came out to check on them again, they had moved on and I was left thinking about their visit.
Fast forward to May, there are bees are back at that mulberry tree! I don’t know enough about bees to know whether some return to the same place to nest or if this was a new colony, but it felt as though the magic had returned.
It made me think about the trust change requires. The patience it takes to wait in those in-between moments spanning days, seasons, or even years. The curiosity we must cultivate to welcome in the new, the different, the transformed. How we must, at times, de-center ourselves and consider the many other moving parts that change involves. There is often so much movement in the unseen that precedes our acknowledgement that we’ve reached some turning point.
Have you been tuned into what’s shifting in and around you?
Now, I could talk about what’s blooming and the bees forever, but I’ll close out with updates about some recent art-scapades.
I completed two more paintings in my series I started in Yellow Brick Road, a long form art workshop with SF-based artist Lindsay Stripling. I shared the first of the series in my previous newsletter, here are the second and third:
I really enjoyed finding ways to bring in elements from the original painting, like the smoke/fog clouds, wings, the checkered pattern and light beams, while following characters through a night and into the morning. It was a great practice in getting inside the minds and hearts of the people I paint, and creating (though, it felt more like unearthing) a narrative. All three paintings are available for purchase, together or apart, or to pair up with a venue to be displayed- let me know if you are interested or can suggest a space that would be a good fit!
Another fun project was a commission for these postcard-size watercolor landscapes inspired by beautiful Baja. I’ll share a few of them below. I am very open to more commissions like these. These would make great one-of-a-kind keepsakes, can be used as special notes, mementos for trips you and loved ones have been on, of any land meaningful to you and/or the recipients. If you’d like to order a pack of these, feel free to reach out for more information.
And finally, tonight, I will be hosting a virtual event, “Finding Creative Flow: Art Night” on Manifest House’s platform as part of their Open House series this week. It will be a low-key, relaxed hour to create in community with a prompt I provide. Explore virtual wellbeing space for women & femmes, Manifest House, here, and read more on tonight’s event here.
With that, I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of the first day of June. I’m sending love to you all. Hoping the ways you choose to let life in, to really let it in and move you, are bringing you feelings of connection, wonder and hope. I am always happy to hear from you, too- feel free to use the comment section to share any thoughts, responses, or wisdom from your end :)
Thanks for being here,
Jess
There is a woman I follow on Instagram who last year had a son and then lost her beautiful husband a few months later. She recently wrote how she had a couple days of joy arrive, and how it felt like the joy had come over her, come through her, and was rippling from her. She allowed herself the break from immense grief to dance, sing, laugh and smile.
This excerpt you shared reminded me of the way she also spoke of joy:
“Joy is deceptively determined.
It will shift into many shapes to find you.
It will wait in many lines to reach you.
Joy was; joy is, joy will be.”
She spoke of the connection between joy and sadness and how allowing herself to fully feel sadness has given her the ability to be overcome with joy. It was beautiful and I very much believe emotions have counter emotions and without allowing the negative be experienced you don't make room for the positive.
Joy is fleeting magic, yet it can light a person up in a way that keeps them ablaze through the darkest of darks. It is deceptive, it shifts, it comes sometimes at the strangest moments. Its waits around the corner for a moment when it can catch your attention. It is one of the most powerful emotions anyone can feel, and you spoke of it perfectly!
As for the bees I am so glad they are back bringing your neighborhood magic!