To Add Something
After a week away as an Artist in Residence at Hot Springs State Park in Wyoming, gratitude fills me and leaves little room for the ready chaos of returning to the world's screeching headlines. All the small actions of state arts councils, like Wyoming's, and the legislators who supported a full season and full spectrum of artists working across the varied landscapes of state parks here, add up in unquantifiable ways. My thanks stretches out to encompass the Lander writer/editor/publisher who brought his whole family from the far side of the Warm Valley to my workshop, Off Normal's Edge. And to a young graphic artist, who eased the way for those of us who hadn't recently--publicly-- experienced somersaulting like a rolypoly caterpillar or standing on one leg like a heron. Grateful for the memoir writer whose hard memories had halted her words, but who grew playful over the course of the morning's exercises, and who grew to understand her writing's pause not as stagnation, but as necessary growth.
So many remembrances during the 25th anniversary of 9/11 come with stories of quiet heroism, of those who put others before themselves. And we all face circumstances, across the globe, where we too can offer our caring, our respect, our recognition in ways that open us to others. We can find in ourselves whatever we have that someone else might need. That could be, in the right place, a sense of humor. It could be a willingness to follow someone's lead when they are dancing the twist all by themselves and everyone thinks they're crazy.
Dentist Paul Cassar knew nothing about working with wildlife before the CEO of International Animal Rescue showed him pictures of poached bears with their teeth broken to look more docile for potential purchasers. But 20 years later, he is featured in a Daily Good post with over 200 bears and at least 6 wildlife species in his repertoire. "Restoring what was broken is, in its way, a form of healing delivered without fanfare, one root canal at a time." When writers wonder if our words are worth our time, if they bring anything to others, we remind each other that this is what we have, and we offer it up. We bring our drop of water to the ocean of caring.
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