As this moment in time brings our country and our globe to its knees, all of us are adjusting to a new, hopefully temporary, normal. For so many of us, life has gone from 1000mph to 0mph, nearly overnight. With artists from coast-to-coast without work, small business owners facing bankruptcy, children without school meals, and those on the front lines enduring heartbreak and frustration, perhaps the only thing to do is lean into the goodness of silver linings and find small ways to help.
So, this is my new project: sewing CDC-approved masks for medical staff at local hospitals. I’m an entirely novice seamstress (up until this point I hadn’t sewn more than a hem or button), but this opportunity has been my silver lining to learn a new skill that can be put to use for those in need. If anyone reading this is interested in joining the “sewing army,” click here to get information on the pattern and delivery locations.
I’m lucky to be home, hunkering with my parents in a warm home with plenty of food and music to fill the air. As mama and I become whizzes at giving lessons and studio classes on Zoom, papa and I work on building a garage bouldering wall (my other new obsession with rock climbing has created a crazy home project), and each morning is filled with lots of sewing, there is much gratitude to be felt. Siestas have become a daily occurrence, happy hour seems to start a bit earlier each afternoon, and an appreciation for the little things has become large.
And, if anyone would like a break from the news stream and wants to escape into Ariana-land for a few moments, below is a musical hug – a little solo Bach as meditation (please excuse the lo-fi, iPhone mic situation – I’m a tech simpleton), and a photo diary of my last couple of months. Last is a stunning poem by Pablo Neruda – here’s to better days ahead:
With love, a poem by Pablo Neruda:
Ode to Hope
Oceanic dawn
at the center
of my life,
waves like grapes,
the sky’s solitude,
you fill me
and flood
the complete sea,
the undiminished sky,
tempo
and space,
sea foam’s white
battalions,
the orange earth,
the sun’s
fiery waist
in agony,
so many
gifts and talents,
birds soaring into their dreams,
and the sea, the sea,
suspended
aroma,
chorus of rich, resonant salt,
and meanwhile,
we men,
touch the water,
struggling,
and hoping,
we touch the sea,
hoping.
And the waves tell the firm coast:
‘Everything will be fulfilled.’