There are certain things in life we learn to live with, even though we don’t want them to be that way. That it is going to be hard (lots/most of the time), is one of those things that I’m still learning to live with. And I’m still figuring out how to live with it.
These days, I find myself praying to the stars and cosmos, while planting my feet into the earth, and grounding myself in the connections that reach from me to you.
Reading news articles everyday, and I am terrified of the worlds we live in. I ease the onslaught of WTF (like what in the actual fuck!) with the fact that things are revealing themselves more and more for what they have been and for what they are. It is everywhere and it is blatant. There is no illusion to hold onto.
And still, Trump and the rapid-fire implementation of racist, islamophobic, human-rights violating executive orders is beyond what these words can begin to articulate. And beneath the daily Trump headlines, the actions Trudeau and Canada are taking: halting Syrian refugees from arriving here, refusing to change the “Safe Counties list,” and the broken promise of electoral reform, as just a few of the things. How much more blatant will things get?
a year_that hurt.
communities of bones, hearts, spirits.
we are here, at the edge of time.
pull close the things that matter.
we will meet the next one together.
we won’t always know where to gather hope,
or what inner reservoirs to draw from
but our roots know the earth,
and know how to sustain us.
The loop of video is from Lake Sevan in Armenia.
My body is physically in Armenia, but my thoughts and heart loop around the memories of a different time. Conversations with my mom flood over me. I think of my Nene. My Nene who is ageing and in Toronto and living with Alzheimer’s. I reach for memories of her. Flashes of who we once were. The ripples on the lake take me through different streams of memory. They loop like the conversations she has these days. 20-second bites of narrative. Sometimes connected. Sometimes… and then gone.
These images are part of a series that I am developing. They are part of a journey towards connecting with land and ancestors and memory and lived realities. Fragments of narrative, caught in the textures of the land. They are located in my perspective, as visitor, as outsider, as Armenian from the diaspora visiting Armenia.
For too long, it was about getting “it” right. I can’t put out something half-baked. No. I can’t put it out “there” until I have “something” – something “Real.” Something saying this works, i have a point, and this is it. Here is my position. Here are my politics. Here is my Art — capital A. Here it is!
… Or not.
This site is about imperfections. About embracing the half-baked. About recognizing — i don’t have lots of “it” figured out.
This site is a work-in-progress.
These are my musings. Finally. I put a blog into the world. Ha! Here’s to being over a decade late to many things in this life.