question marks & impossibility (art appreciation vol. 10)
shows & books getting me through the winter blues
January is finally ending, after its typical behavior of dragging and dragging on.
In the spirit of a cold (so cold) winter and lots of time spent thinking this month, I’m feeling long-winded today. I want to practice writing this year as a way to sit with things, but not feel swallowed by them.
(And of course, art is involved. Always is!!)
There’s this question that I’m tossing over and over in my head:
What do we do in the face of impossible things? By impossibility I mean the huge things — tragedy, responsibility, growth, emotion, ourselves !!! Too complex and challenging to fit in any box. You could never fully figure them out, or perfect them, or understand them. You can barely bear them sometimes. “Impossible” things just vortex around us, begging for us to just tread water and stay afloat.
When everything around us feels like an open-ended question, what do we do with that? What’s the next move? What is a step worth taking on a never-ending path?
As always, art is helping me point out my sticky feelings and somehow love the unlikely shapes they take.
shrinking (again)
I have to talk about this show again because the new season just started airing this week, and it has me THINKING.
What do we do in the face of impossible things? In Shrinking — as in life — “impossibility” is constant. It underlies every character’s life, from grief and loss to chronic illness to divorce to parenthood / childhood and career changes.
Shrinking seems to say that the way forward through life’s impossibility is honest trying.
The show helps me see what this type of realness looks like, in all the unpolished ways I admit make me feel so awkward! As I watch the characters (which are all such different types of people), I see an embodiment of what honest trying looks like:
humor, in whatever way helps lighten the load
shrugging your shoulders in admittance of not knowing what to do
doing something (anything) for someone
hugs
meals
neighbors
showing up to the game, party, wedding, appointment, funeral
shaky hands
constant forgiveness and grace
saying the hard thing out loud
taking a risk to follow a dream
great music
knowing what you’re good at, then doing more of it
asking for help, and being a part of the village that helps
words slipping out before you can perfect them
acknowledging your imperfect moments, candidly and on the spot
naming a feeling for what it is — bittersweet / strange / painful / rude / selfish / hard / awkward / devastating / exciting / complicated
The last thing, and maybe the biggest, is gratitude.
“Sometimes it’s hard not to feel sorry for myself. Poor me, with my frail, fragile body. But then I look around this room, and I say to myself: ‘Lucky guy. I’m a lucky guy.’ I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna have to work with you, hang out with you, laugh with you. The road’s gonna get tougher and tougher. I know that I’ll get through it, because of everyone in this room. That’s what I’m thankful for.” // Harrison Ford’s character (diagnosed with Parkinson’s) in the scene below
Lately, I’ve been so stuck in a cycle of trying with all my energy to polish and improve myself. To decide how I talk, how I sound, and how I act. What my habits are and what they shouldn’t be. I’ve been so many things that I don’t want to be (and so many that I do!) and, of course, I’ll be many versions of myself to come. I spin and spin trying to define this — how I show up in my life, how to control every aspect.
And it just isn’t working. It never has worked or helped. It’s an impossible thing to fully control the life in front of you (and in you).
The main character in Shrinking, Jimmy, is why I added “words slipping out before you can perfect them” in that list of honest things above. He constantly says things awkwardly, and answers to the sideways reactions with a laugh and an endearing self-awareness: “I know, I heard it. I was there when it happened.” It’s supposed to be funny, and it is, but it’s also incredibly encouraging.
He’s special and loveable because he’s so himself, because he shows up and does his best in the moment in front of him. It feels as though, because he’s navigating this “impossible” scenario of grieving his wife and solo-raising a teenage daughter, that he genuinely knows no other way to be. He acts out of love alone, admitting when things go a bit wonky. He gives every person and conversation complete heart.
So for no other reason than wanting to try like this — out of love alone — I’m inspired to be more honest this year. I want to look at what this all is (‘this all’ as in ‘life’) without needing to know what it all means. I’m grateful for art that not only pushes me to do that, but shows me what it can look like.
other honorable mentions
+ Have you ever listened to Holly Humberstone? I’m loving her!!! She fits into all the Sienna Spiro / LEON / Raye / Olivia vibes I’ve been mentioning non-stop.
+ These lyrics from Djo’s song “Egg” resonated with me today. Obviously fitting in with everything I’m mulling over.
+ I read a lot this month! A mix of flu and plane travel (at different times lol) gave me good down time. Atmosphere and Broken Country were my 5 star reads. The concept of The Midnight Library was really really thought-provoking. Next on my list is The God of the Woods, and I also want to listen to audiobooks soon of some memoirs — esp. Elyce Arons’ and Eli Rallo’s recent releases.
Whatever this genre is where women write stories that blend love, humor, authentic (messy) narrators, a little mystery and secrecy — I’m eating it up! I’m remembering how great reading is compared to shows or movies because you get to be inside the character’s mind, more than just seeing them. I feel it actively expanding my empathy and my ability to see other perspectives, which is really special.
Anyway, I loved this page from The Midnight Library:
+ Lastly (finally!) I’m revisiting this from an older post of mine:
In the movie “We Live in Time”, a professional chef (facing a terminal diagnosis of cancer) shows her daughter how to crack eggs flat on the countertop. At the end of the movie, adjusting to daily life with grief, the daughter cracks the eggs with her dad the same way her mom used to. A moment of remembering.
I started doing it too when I make breakfast sometimes. It always makes me think of the movie, of their resilience (even more so the resilience of the real people I love that are living through similar tragedy).
Art layers itself this way.
I love having an immersive relationship like this with art. Maybe it’s pinning photographs that remind you of what a book might look like or finding songs that connect to the storyline of a movie. Tiny moves toward art appreciation — they make daily life so much more full.
I feel filled to the brim with such immense admiration for everyone. You & you & you. Whatever your blend of losses and passions and responsibilities and emotions are — I just really admire your trying. Your honest attempts at all of it. This is impossible stuff, but I have faith that our small steps forward are worth it.
It feels good to just write wordy like this, to go a little deeper into the art in front of me. Thanks for reading <3
Sending you love, a shrug of the shoulders, humor, & great music for whatever you’re facing and feeling.
Xx
Aubrey