20. Surrender – Fariha Róisín
Through astrology, spirituality, and through unpacking my own abstract impressions, I’ve learned how to clarify them into real, constructive ideas.
I keep up on my astrology. For over a decade, I’ve used it as a handbook to understand myself, planetary aspects in my own chart, or the earth’s. It’s become a weekly ritual where I process information that I might be feeling spiritually and emotionally—but do not necessarily have the words for. Through astrology, spirituality, and through unpacking my own abstract impressions, I’ve learned how to clarify them into real, constructive ideas.
This is how I’ve processed a lot of the rubble in my mind. I’ve found it to be so useful to pause, and to look towards the spirit world to guide me. It’s given me a praxis through which I write.
All writing can be used as an act of healing, which is a state we desperately need on both an individual and a communal level. As Kate Zambreno writes, “We write towards that ghost”... so we move closer to all that is mysterious. Within the unknown lies a world of self and exploration.
– Fariha Róisín
Prompt:
Look back on the past few weeks and consider what has felt momentous for you. What have you let go of, surrendered, only to learn from? Has anything felt fated, or fallen into place? Write from the depths of that knowing. Of trusting the signs. Explain what you’ve witnessed in yourself. What tiny revolution have you faced?
Anne Francey
Location: Saratoga Springs, NY
About: I am a visual artist. Almost every day since we are in lockdown, I photograph or film my morning cup of tea.
Age: 64
Chantelle Cichon
Location: Burbank, California
About: Isolation manifests just that: Isolation. When there is so much heaviness and darkness looming over our world it's easy to feel alone, and even more so when it has become rare to see more than the inside of your home.
Age: 26
Dylan Brooks
Location: North Vancouver, British Columbia Canada
About: I'm a 27 y/o Canadian in practice; orbiting the planet of free form poetry/prose. What was once love letters is now a full-time creative writing passion, inspired mostly by self reflection and an outward connection to world around us. I have written nine poems prompted by The Isolation Journals project, and it's honestly THE closest I've felt to a community of artists. This has been a journey and the train won't stop here, so until it jumps the tracks, I'm grateful to Suleika and the Team for such a wonderful ride. Thank you!
Age: 27
“Depths of Knowing”
in the rubble of my mind – i
have to unpack things one at a time.
it’s like a search and rescue –
but i’m walking the line.
calling out to any survivors –
in hopes to surrender what i will find.
day after day –
night after night.
putting away these wrongs to make
a few right.
two weeks later and my thoughts
are getting tight.
down here across the great divide –
there’s nothing to see and i can’t beg
a dime.
if only i realized how deep this ocean
can be without a guide.
blind in these waters so i close my
eyes to look inside –
making room for truth in a constant
current of lies –
it was only then did i feel the sign.
suddenly the tide changed and she
carried me in stride.
caught in an upwelling of some type.
rising back to the surface rich with a
purpose and new life –
now i don’t feel so worthless –
so captive on the carousel of time.
all i had to do was get out of my head.
i need to believe in myself instead and
learn to step aside.
- get out of your own way
Heather Viviano
Location: Seattle, WA
About: The prompt asked, what momentous discoveries have you made during isolation? What have been the tiny revelations? I was surprised how my priorities had changed in just 3 weeks. It was interesting what I'd already learned about myself.
Age: 51
Today my 17 year old woke up and said she kinda sorta hoped she could get pancakes this morning. Like pancakes were just the ticket needed to start off the day in a life well lived.
The day before I began this project I told myself I was going to weave something about covid-19 into each entry as a way to document my thoughts and experiences during this time. As it turns out, some days I do and some days I don't. Sometimes I need to talk about it and other days I've had just about enough of covid-19. Today is a little bit of both, I suppose. One of my dearest friend's mom is in a nursing home in Iowa. Today she spiked a fever and her lungs are filling up. She was tested for covid. Likely she will not survive; she is very weak. All along I've been wondering how close to home this beast will come. I wonder how many more? Iowa's governor was slow to implement mandatory distancing guidelines and now my other friend, who is a nurse at a hospital in Iowa and gets briefings every day, says many hot spots are cropping up. So, one friend's mom may lose her life and my other friend is bracing for the peak expected there in the next week or so and may be put in harm's way, nursing the sick in numbers that very likely will be much higher than they should be due to irresponsible choices made by a person in a leadership position who chose not to listen to the science on this pandemic. I just shake my head. Shake my head and send out all of the positive thoughts, prayers, mojo, juju, energy, vibes, in whatever form people want it, I'll send it.
I myself have done nothing momentous during this period of isolation. That's not to say I didn't have plans. I was going to fix the poor job I did mudding and taping the walls in my art room (that's a hard job!), I was going to get my garden organized, rip up the lawn in back and plant a new one, learn some new painting techniques, conquer that stack of novels beckoning me from across the room, clean out the garage. I've done none of it, which is not like me. I usually push myself quite a bit to do all of the above and more, but for me, covid-19 has hoarded all of the momentous real estate and I, for once, am only embracing the tiny revolutions.
The jeweler's loupe exercise from yesterday could be a metaphor for the way I've viewed my life over the past month. This wasn't a conscious decision. I would regard this behavior more along the lines of primal. All I want to do is make this home and this environment feel relaxing and pleasant for my loved ones. I want my nest to feel safe and warm and happy. I want it's inhabitants to feel comforted and loved. I want their upended lives to have some sense of grounding. So, I do things more slowly and meticulously now, not hurried or pressured like it can sometimes get in our busy lives. When I cook, I do it more purposefully and with love, so it tastes like a warm gesture and not just like a way to not starve. When I clean, I'm more thoughtful and careful, more thorough. If they want to play a game, I play a game. If they want to chat, I stop what I'm doing and we chat. If they want me to watch their movie choice, well, I watch their movie.
I understand myself well enough to know that I have to do something restorative to fill up my tank. All humans need to do that or else we will have nothing left to give. I do this simply by walking. I take longer walks now and that is when I spend time in my own thoughts.
Last, but certainly not least, is this journaling project. I took the suggestion from someone I admire and respect and here I am, writing every day. Who would've thought? Not only am I writing, but I'm connecting with people from all over the world. I never would've guessed that perfect strangers from an on-line journaling community would be the people I've connected to most during this time. Perhaps THIS is my momentous experience. The rest is a series of tiny revolutions, like pancakes made with love (yes, she got her pancakes), as seen through my metaphorical jeweler's loupe, and I'm just fine with that.