Articles

I’ve been working on a project lately. A big one, and out of my comfort zone. You know the kind. It’s on paper instead of metal, words instead of shapes and textures. And when I get stuck in the middle of a project like this I use a technique I like to call The Creative Dump Truck.

Trees Grow Down

Not long ago I learned the term “punctuated equilibrium”. It’s a theory that originated in biology and spread to other fields. It refers to the notion that, rather than being gradual or incremental, change tends to occur in bursts after long periods of stasis. This is how we can have massive biological, cultural, or technological shifts like the Neolithic Era, the Renaissance, or the Industrial Revolution. They seemed like a massive upheaval at the time, and they were – but they were preceded by an undercurrent of energy bubbling away beneath the surface. That initial work wasn’t always visible, but it’s what made such massive leaps possible.

It’s been a hard week. My soul aches. My emotions are spent. My body feels hollow inside. Like many people, I’ve been struggling with what to say or do. What not to do. The right way to say I stand with you, sit with you, support you, grieve with you.

But there is no wrong way to grieve.

I know there is work to be done. The days ahead will be there for the doing. But not today. Today I grieve – in the way that feels right for me. A moment of sadness, a moment of silence. No words this week except these.

I saw a hummingbird dance this morning. A slight emerald girl bursting with excitement. She visits our feeder every day. We’re a few weeks from when the tasty flowers bloom – the hollyhocks, the oregano, the sage blossoms. The lilacs are just starting to think about opening, unlike 15 minutes south of us where they’re being harvested by the fistful.