Feeling deeply during times of crisis
When the gruesome atrocities of the world threaten to drive us into our shells and away from a painful reality we must open our hearts instead of closing them.
Field Notes on Flourishing is a monthly love letter exploring art, mindfulness, creativity, and the question of flourishing — by Ludi Leiva.
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Hello dear reader,
This newsletter is a day late, I apologize for the delay. It’s been a challenging time and things feel harder, slower, and more surreal. If things are also taking you a little more time than usual, if your body feels sluggish and your actions muddled, or if finding your center has suddenly become a monumental task as it has for me, just know that you are not alone. Witnessing constant devastation and processing ensuing grief, anger, and fear while trying to meet daily responsibilities is difficult and disorienting. Yet we must continue to bear witness and move with as much grace, compassion, and strength as we can muster.
The world—and I myself—have changed in the last month. The initial horrors that unfolded in Israel on October 7 have mushroomed into an ongoing campaign of terror the likes of which most of us haven’t seen in our lifetimes. Though violence and tragedy touch so many parts of the world all of the time, the severity of Israel’s ongoing aggression against Palestine is something that almost defies the senses with its cruelty, intensity, and relentlessness. Over 10,000 Palestinian lives have been extinguished since I last wrote you, most of them were children. As of right now, there is little hope for a ceasefire. This evil weighs heavily on the heart; it changes us. As it should.
There are so many things swirling inside of me right now, the anguish I feel for the Palestinians cannot be divorced from the grief and outrage I feel for my own ancestors, my own people, who have suffered under the weight of colonial and imperialistic violence not dissimilar to the settler colonial violence inflicted on the Palestinian people, first by British colonial rule and, since 1948, by the settler-state of Israel. I feel their struggle deep inside my cells.
By now every person on this earth must know—must feel in their bodies—the weight of the immense human tragedy we are living through. Yet, instead of going into the details of the current geopolitical crisis, I want to use this space to reflect a bit on how I am attempting to show up at this time, not in a logistical or concrete sense (I am taking action in different ways every day and have and will continue to share reflections and resources daily here) but in an emotional, somatic, and energetic one.
As I imperfectly navigate through these days, I have been reminded just how fervently I believe in repeatedly rooting my thoughts and actions in love and care. I believe this to be something we must all do. When dogma and propaganda claw at our consciousness to convince us to go against what our hearts know to be right, we must continuously find our way back to that innermost place of knowing, and act from this place of awake, loving awareness.
When we witness injustice, we must speak out even if we are afraid, because speaking out against injustice will always be the right thing to do. I find that feeling a bit of fear or nervous energy about speaking out can actually be a strong litmus test for the importance and urgency of the truth one is carrying. It’s often quite easy to take a stance that is barely beyond neutral, that is palatable to most, and perhaps even obvious. It can be scary to come out and say something that you know some might be reactive to, but if we know it is the right and loving thing then we must find the courage to say it. (I have been deeply moved by the many people risking their livelihoods, jobs, and other privileges in order to stand up for their fellow human beings. I myself have had to face fears around alienating not only people in my personal sphere but also potential clients by standing firmly in solidarity with Palestine as someone fully dependent on outside commissions for my livelihood. I lost at least 100 Instagram followers in October. But I would feel more at peace losing potential work or followers than I would be staying silent in the face of ongoing genocide. I stand by my decision; each of us is faced with a similar one depending on our circumstances and context.)
When the gruesome atrocities of the world threaten to drive us into ourselves, into our shells, and away from a painful reality, we must open our hearts instead of closing them. We must allow ourselves to feel instead of numbing ourselves in the myriad ways that are available to us in our distraction culture. We must reach out to and be in community with others to remind ourselves we are not alone and, in so doing, remind others that they are not alone, either.
As we move through these dark days, we must continuously find our way back to love—even when it is sometimes easier to judge and to hate. We must let the pain in and work to transmute it instead of letting it harden and calcify inside of us. For me personally, this has meant daily action and acts of solidarity (such as repeatedly calling my representatives to demand a ceasefire), channeling energy into my art (there has been a lot of crying-while-painting lately), and being in community to grieve, recharge, and take action together.
When the gruesome atrocities of the world threaten to drive us into ourselves, into our shells, and away from a painful reality, we must open our hearts instead of closing them. We must allow ourselves to feel instead of numbing ourselves in the myriad ways that are available to us in our distraction culture.
We must constantly ask ourselves: what is the loving action? and follow that thread wherever it leads us. We must not let it go. In my view, this is an ongoing and never-ending responsibility, a practice that we must engage with at all moments of our lives, but it is particularly crucial in times of great moral crisis, like this one.
There is a sacred invitation right now for each one of us to show up beyond what is comfortable, beyond our own personal precedents, because this moment we are living is neither a comfortable nor a precedented one. In fact, I would say that remaining in a place of comfort during a time of immense global suffering inherently necessitates some degree of dissociation and disconnection. We must act, but first, we must allow ourselves to feel. I invite you to engage in an ongoing practice of somatic awareness knowing that you will not be alone in doing so.
I will leave you with some words from others that have inspired me in the last few days, I hope they will move you as they have moved me.
Take care of yourself; take care of each other.
Words of wisdom
“We all have a fundamental and unshakeable responsibility to care for and love and protect each other. I personally think this responsibility is a precondition for our living but that’s just me. You need to live that responsibility, fix your heart. Voting means nothing. You have to start each day from the heart and use whatever means you have to care for and love and protect whoever is around you, no exceptions, no excuses. This is where your politics must begin. From a place of unconditional love for all living things. That’s the foot you need to put forward every day. This is the only thing that has any chance of saving us. You have to fix your heart.” — Hazel Avery
“The role of the artist is exactly the same as the role of the lover. If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don’t see.” — James Baldwin
“Western mental health practices tout the idea that you ‘don’t owe anybody anything.’ It’s this individualistic mindset at the center of what we are seeing — people staying silent in the face of genocide. We do owe each other. We owe each other dignity and humanity. We have a collective responsibility to stand up against all injustice and oppression. Humanity depends on it.” — Parvin Saberi-Shakib
“We will shape and mold this country or it will not be molded or shaped at all anymore. So I don't think you have a choice — how can you be an artist and not reflect the times?” — Nina Simone
[On the loss of followers after speaking out] “Resist the inclination to remain trapped in fear’s cage believing yourself free […] These numbers don’t feel like a consequence, they feel like a reward. I pray that this space continues to undergo this kind of refinement. That those who don’t align feel free to go and that they are replaced with others more aligned. That those with closed hearts be replaced with hearts more open. As you reveal more of yourself (which includes your values), people may leave. All you can do is bless their feet as they walk away.” —
"This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal." — Toni Morrison
A poem
As you prepare your breakfast, think of others
(do not forget the pigeon’s food).
As you conduct your wars, think of others
(do not forget those who seek peace).
As you pay your water bill, think of others
(those who are nursed by clouds).
As you return home, to your home, think of others
(do not forget the people of the camps).
As you sleep and count the stars, think of others
(those who have nowhere to sleep).
As you liberate yourself in metaphor, think of others
(those who have lost the right to speak).
As you think of others far away, think of yourself
(say: “If only I were a candle in the dark”).
— Mahmoud Darwish
Posters for Palestine
I made two free, downloadable drawings for unlimited personal use for those who need a poster for demonstrations or want to make t-shirts or stickers.
If you do download, please make a donation to an organization providing aid to civilians in Gaza in lieu of payment. Some of my favorite options are Palestinian Children’s Relief Fund and Medical Aid for Palestinians.
Some quick work updates:
I had two illustrations in The Guardian Saturday magazine last month about finding hope and empowerment during menopause.
I have an exhibition coming up this month in Stockholm. I will be showing a new body of work that I’ve spent the last months working on, so if you are in the neighborhood I’d love to see you there.
Kairos at Samsen Atelier
Vernissage Thursday, November 30 at 18:00 — limited space so please RSVP to kairos@samsen.se with your name and how many are in your party if you’d like to join.
Sending you love ✨
Your being here means the world to me, thank you.
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