On Silent Conversations
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Hello friends, Well, it was another stressful week here in the US and some other parts of the globe. When things feel overwhelming, what is important to me is to connect with what is in my physical environment. I make my bed in the morning. I wipe the kitchen counters. I set things in order. What else do I do? I make sure I go for a walk, even when I have a pile of work to do that feels endless. It is on these walks that, not only do I notice my environment, but I also catch sight of how others interact with the world, as well. I love these silent conversations with people I will never see. There are free libraries. A toy exchange. Free food pantries. Chalk art on the sidewalk. Flowers waving from fences. Stickers on stop signs. Fliers for lost companion animals. Murals in alleyways… These silent conversations remind us that, however alienating the world may feel, we live together. We impact each other. We leave marks that tell us, “You are not alone.” One marker I paused at was a crow feather stuck in an old staple on a weathered wood utility pole. In late summer and early autumn, crows molt, dropping feathers everywhere. Some of these become community art installations. In the past, I’ve seen one pole decorated with dozens of feathers. This lone feather—arching away from the pole in a pleasing shape, like a dancer bending to music—made me pause, ponder, and smile. Someone saw that feather on the sidewalk, and found a handy place to display it. That person made meaning, reaching out through time to connect with me, walking by in some future moment. This week, I also watched a cheery animated video about existential dread explained by ducks. In the video, a frog reminds the duck that meaning is made, every day. Truly, though? Meaning is made in each moment. We choose meaning by making the bed. We choose meaning by picking up a feather and affixing to a pole. We choose meaning when we stop and notice. We choose meaning because life is important, and without meaning… it is easy to forget. Best wishes — Thorn
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T. Thorn Coyle
Hello friends, On an old garage somewhere in Southeast Portland, someone hand lettered a large message. The bulk of it reads “Matter would not have become us if it doubted our ability to change…” Now, on one hand it reads as the start of a philosophical discussion I would’ve engaged in during my teens or early twenties. On the other hand, though? Well, it made me pause and snap a photo, didn’t it? Photo: Garage wall message: “Matter would not have become us if it doubted our ability to...
Hello friends, While walking out of an ice cream shop yesterday, I saw a faded scrap of fabric stapled to a utility pole. People had stuck their old wood ice cream spoons into holes in the pole around the fabric, creating a mini art and sculpture installation. I recognized the fabric, of course, as being an old piece from local artist Shanalee Hampton. I have several of her embroidery pieces hanging in our home, having been introduced to her work by outdoor installations just like this one....
Hello friends, Years ago, writer Starhawk penned a novel in which city neighborhoods had fruit trees growing on the sidewalks, so anyone who was hungry could partake. It was a beautiful vision of a world we could live in, if we chose to. I now live in a city neighborhood with fruit trees growing on the sidewalk. Pear. Apple. Plum. Fig. Cherry. But, more often than not, the fruit falls and rots on the concrete in the sun. This happens unless the person who lives in the home near the tree...