Coronavirus Survivor’s Log- Day 10? 11? Yikes! I’m starting to lose count!
I have to apologize for my absence yesterday. I spent the morning at the doctor’s office, which, in and of itself is a surreal experience. It was made more so by the (finally!) diagnosis of a Cerebral Spinal Fluid leak from my nose that I have been struggling with for the past three weeks. It’s a weird time to think about CT scans and non-invasive brain procedures, but better than getting meningitis and way better than the constant headaches, leaky faucet that looks like a nose on my face and deep fatigue that I thought was just a worse than average allergy season. In some way, it comes at a really great time when work has slowed to a snail’s slither and I’m forced to stay home. Anyway, all that to say that the all morning appointment kind of stripped me of my will to move from the couch yesterday, so sorry I didn’t show up for our ten minute coffee and writing date.
Today, I was feeling artsy…mostly because I got to return for a bit to the mural my sister and I have been working on since this summer today…and it got me thinking about the healing sensation of paint under my nails and color on my mind. So I thought I would share with you an art prompt from Shelly Klammer’s Symbolic Journeys class.
I chose to do the collage prompt and combine it with some free form poetry.
The prompt is “Night,” and here is what Shelley has to say about that symbology:
The night sometimes symbolizes a loss of faith. Who or what have you lost faith in recently?
Shelley Klammer, Symbolic Journeys
Here is your mission:
You can Collage: Create a “dark” collage using dark colors, or imagery that feels emotionally dark to you. I’ve done this and added my work down below.
Or you can do a Painting/Drawing: Create a drawing or a painting that reflects what you have lost faith in. What do you most want to have faith in? Is it love, kindness, abundance, or something different? Write or illustrate this quality on top of your drawing.
Or you can stay with the writing theme and answer the question “What do you most want to have faith in?” Write for ten minutes….GO!
It’s Tuesday….I’m no officially into week two of this social distancing experiment and things are starting to settle into a rhythm. Whether that is good or bad, I don’t know yet, but here we are…doing our part….and I don’t hate it.
Today’s writing prompt comes from an art therapy online workshop I am working through called “Symbolic Journeys” by Shelley Klammer. She’s an amazing art therapist and online educator and I highly recommend ANY of her offerings as I have worked through several of them. This art prompt struck me yesterday, so I decided to sit in it a while and turn it to a writing prompt. So here you go…
Keys often symbolize opening and closing. Write for ten minutes about an area where you feel closed and what you want to open up to. GO.
There is a part of me I struggle to let anyone see. A young, quiet part of my heart that isn’t wisened by experience, sharpened by trauma, or deepened by age. She sits and stares out at the world in wonder, but with a naivete I am ashamed to let the world see. She is the little one who doesn’t have all the answers. She is the one I’m afraid no one will love because she has nothing to offer the world but wide eyed wonder and a natural inquisitiveness to explore. She spills milk and breaks precious heirlooms and has no idea how to to pick the lock that lets her out into the world.
I hold the key to the lock on a janitor’s key ring on my belt loop. It’s an old key with three teeth and it hangs next to keys that keep all the other parts of myself locked behind closed doors. I’d love to let her out to play and skip and ask the question “Why?” fourteen times in a row, but the wisened, sharpened, deep part of me wonders if anyone will love this childish part of my heart. She brings no answers to the table, just more questions…and she’s likely to break an ancient artifact or two on her whirlwind tour around the house, but she sure would love to make the world her playground.
This is what I would love to open up to.
Sharing my young, immature, imperfect heart with the world and trusting that it would be accepted and cherished as much as the older, wiser, know-it-all part of me is. It’s a scary thing to unlock that door and let her out, but I’m gaining the courage to do it.