Searching for Purpose and Finding Meaning During the Pandemic
“It’s a good time to build inventory” I’ve heard a great many well-meaning folks say.
During the early days of Covid it was impossible for me to paint.
I felt harried, anxious and hollow.
Inventory was the last thing on my mind.
Painting seemed self-indulgent, silly and frankly of little importance in light of a pandemic. Like fiddling while Rome burned.
I needed to get outside myself and free myself from the persistent dread and fear mongering of the daily news and the dim prospects for our near future.
Checking-in with friends, spending more time with loved ones and a cold martini (or three) helped but was not enough.
In my heart I knew the answers lay outdoors, outside myself, my ego and I needed to stay there as long as it took to recalibrate.
Standing quietly in the same spot for days gave me entrée into nature’s rhythms, a primal remembrance of a natural order and a hint of universal grace.
The sense of peace I felt was not solely from the beauty or isolation, but from a more profound reminder of nature’s timeline for growth and renewal — so different from my own.
Nature is and has always been indifferent to the whims of human ego.
My small, anxious urgency “to figure things out” was slowly being replaced by a reframing of my view of time and trust in a universal, organic healing.
Though I am not yet there, I am on my way.
The world has always found its way of achieving equilibrium.
I need to trust in that.
If these paintings reflect that search for understanding and some greater meaning, then every minute spent with my brushes was worth it.
