I am writing from the library today, a small treat I give myself on Saturdays to edit and send out the weekly newsletter. It feels luxurious to be in such a quiet space, to sip hot tea slowly while working on my writing, something that often feels confined to the margins of my life during the rest of the week.
One thing I am working to reconcile this year is what it means to be a multi-disciplinary artist. For the first time, I am thinking of the cross-pollination between my work as a writer and my work as a photographer, as well as my work as a mother, as an opportunity for expansiveness instead of conflict.
The work itself is interwoven. I write while the baby naps, I take photos that I imagine being hung on a mother’s wall, I hold my baby and look for something to write with to record the words flowing through my mind. There is no separation.
Lately, I have explored the expansive threads that run through my work. I think about interconnectedness, I write about it, I photograph it. Instead of seeing my photography work as separate from my writing work, I integrate it all, realizing my observations are all of similar things and coming from similar places. As I care for my children, I constantly consider time, legacy, and community, and everything is braided together.
Sometimes, we hold the identities of our work so tightly. “I am a photographer, a writer,” I may introduce myself, hinging my purpose to the creative work I produce. But more and more, the non-paid identities I carry begin to hold as much, or more, weight than my job titles. Being a parent, being a neighbor, being a friend…what is more important than this?
Lately, my focus has been to take my prominent life roles (mother, daughter, etc) and find a way to infuse my paid work with their meaning. Or rather, to connect the dots that are already there. I write and photograph human connections. I focus my leisure time on nurturing connections and facilitating opportunities for connection…everything is interwoven.
When I first moved to Lake Michigan, I wrote extensively about the water’s daily fluctuations. One day, I would go down to the shore to see water as smooth as glass, and then the next day, or sometimes just hours later, the wind would shift, and the lake would be raging wild. This observance reminded me that nothing in nature is fixed and that we are all constantly changing, whether we notice it or not. I went to the lake daily and left each time reassured that I could be as expansive as a body of water, holding a range of emotions and thoughts.
Lately, that reassurance has extended even beyond the internal variance of emotion into outward identity and how it is perceived. You may see me as primarily a writer, my son may see me as only a mother, and I may be entirely confused with who I am. Regardless of perception, and even when no one observes me, I am still myself. Expansive, multi-faceted, evolving. Yet always me, always human.
Lake Michigan is comprised of water droplets that collectively form one of the largest freshwater lakes in the world. Those droplets accumulate into a large body that sometimes gets whipped into waves and other times arranges itself quietly. Always, the essence is the same.
That may be what I am working on embracing this year. Essence. The root of all of it, the connective nature behind every identity I step into.
I hope this space is an invitation for you to expand and trust that you can be more than one thing. I hope that in our connection in this space, we can see the many ways our identities overlap, yours and mine. Maybe you aren’t a writer, but you may be a lake-lover. Perhaps you don’t consider yourself an artist, but you sure know how to bake a loaf of bread or participate in local politics or, or, or... Let this be an invitation to be all of the many selves you are, to believe that your essence pervades them all. I am working on that, too.
Post Recommendations
If you enjoyed this essay, you may also enjoy:
The Threshold - a poem that calls out the blurry seasons, when the line between what was and what is to come, the line between grief and joy is invisible.
We Belong to Each Other - a meditation on interdependence and its necessity in our lives.
Things I am connecting with this week:
I read the book “Soil: The Story of a Black Mother’s Garden” by Camille T. Dungy, and have continued thinking about it even after finishing it. In it, she considers the ways we talk about the natural world, and considers what certain nature writers, especially mothers, have omitted from their writing. I so deeply appreciate how much she connects her work of gardening to her work of parenting.
Interlude Artist Residency is a residency program dedicated to supporting artists who are actively parenting. I came across their work a year or two ago, and love the space they offer parents to come and work on their art, either alone or with their families. Cultural ReProducers also offers great resources to artist parents, and I have a few of their recommended books on my reading list for the coming months. I know I’m not the only one considering the overlap of artist, mother, etc., and I look forward to reading what other folks have said about their experience with it. If you’ve read anything on the topic, please mention it in the comments so I can add it to my reading list!
Swim Club
I will keep this thread updated with swim club details. We are swimming tomorrow, Sunday, February 18, at 2pm in Glen Haven. Meet in the large parking lot next to the red cannery building (there is an old boat perched on the beach here).
Paid Subscribers
I will share a post just for paid subscribers on Wednesday, so keep an eye out for that. My paid posts currently come 1-2 times a month, and include a poem written by me.
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Thank you so much for reading and subscribing. I hope that you feel encouraged to embrace your many interests, identities, and roles this week.
Cheers,
Mae
“You may see me as primarily a writer, my son may see me as only a mother, and I may be entirely confused with who I am. Regardless of perception, and even when no one observes me, I am still myself. Expansive, multi-faceted, evolving. Yet always me, always human.” This is exactly how I have been feeling as a mother, writer and herbalist. Thank you for this reminder that we are many essences woven together 🤍