Embroiled Psyche

The moon was a giant, sunset-colored coin hovering over the horizon tonight. I was driving toward it and it was like finally moving toward home. When it rose, full and white, it made the clouds stand out as though they were sewn to the sky with silver thread. We went by an old cemetery that is said to house a ghostly woman with a pale gown; she did not show herself to us, but moonlight glinting off crooked stones was worth the drive. We were very tired, we were very merry; we had stopped at a cafe on the way for coffee. The wind howled all around us, bringing down tree branches and casting about debris in an eerie way. Then, it was back home again for wine and a game of Scrabble.

It's hard to know how to feel these days. Out in the world there is much anger, much unrest. The days this week have been marked by protest, both at home and abroad; there is the unfolding plight of working-class families in Wisconsin over union-labor rights, the movements of the House to curb government spending. The world is changing around us. This is an historic time; important things, important things.

My work has become much darker as of late, probably because of these uncertainties, the longing for simpler times, and the yearning for a return to the earth.

 

Even though I try hard not to, I inevitably bring these things to the beading table with me. They are always in the background, influencing my creativity. Music helps sometimes, but not completely. This isn't necessarily a bad thing; it's just a thing. It's soothing to work, to be doing something, because sometimes the world can make you feel so helpless.

What do you think? What have you done to "cope"?

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