#164: Where I come from / Where I'm going
Hello!
This newsletter comes a day late, but I was absolutely worn out last night and couldn’t get myself look at the screen. This morning, I’ve been reading some brilliant articles and newsletters on the Internet, listening to podcast episodes I’d saved for another day, and using Notion to figure out how I want September to look.
I’ve been feeling overwhelmed of late, and finding it really easy to slack off. This quote by Toni Morrison jolted a sense of purpose in me.
"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. I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge — even wisdom. Like art."
-Toni Morrison
Today’s newsletter is quite a mixed bag of poetry, links and music that I’ve been hoarding to share with you all. Hope you find something/s here that make you smile, think or feel inspired!
Poetry Corner
I’ve been consciously looking for poems that explore the subject Where I come from / Where I'm going. Here are some of my favorite finds:
Where I Come From by Sally Fisher
We didn’t say fireflies
but lightning bugs.
We didn’t say carousel
but merry-go-round.
Not seesaw,
teeter-totter
not lollipop,
sucker.
We didn’t say pasta, but
spaghetti, macaroni, noodles:
the three kinds.
We didn’t get angry:
we got mad.
And we never felt depressed
dismayed, disappointed
disheartened, discouraged
disillusioned or anything,
even unhappy:
just sad.Octopus Empire by Marilyn Nelson
What if the submarine
is praying for a way
it can poison the air,
In which some of them have
leaped for a few seconds,
felt its suffocating
rejected buoyancy.
Something floats above their
known world leading a wake
of uncountable death.
What if they organized
into a rebellion?
Now scientists have found
a group of octopi
who seem to have a sense
of community, who
live in dwellings made of
gathered pebbles and shells,
who cooperate, who
defend an apparent
border. Perhaps they’ll have
a plan for the planet
in a millennium
or two. After we’re gone.Dreaming of Li Bai by Du Fu
Parting from the dead, I’ve stifled my sobs,
but this parting from the living brings constant pain.
South of the Yangze, land of pain and fever—
no word comes from the exile.
Yet my old friend entered my dreams,
proof of how long I’ve pined for him.
He didn’t look the way he used to,
road so far, further than I can guess.
His spirit came from where maple groves are green,
then went back, left me in borderland darkness.
Now you’re caught in the meshes of the law;
how could you have wings to fly with?
The sinking moon floods the rafters of my room
and still I seem to see it lighting your face.
Where you go, waters are deep, waves so wide,
don’t let the dragons, the horned dragons harm you!The Detached by Ha Jin
Still I praise those who are detached
from any land, who, since birth,
have been determined to travel far in search
of home. They get their bearings
by stars, their roots growing at the end
of the imagined sky.
For them, life is a tortuous journey
and every stop a new departure. They
know they will disappear on the road,
but as long as they are living,
death keeps them company
to the destination they have envisioned,
though they have no idea
whose maps their footprints might update.Thumbprint by Eve Merriam
On the pad of my thumb
are whorls. whirls, wheels
in a unique design:
mine alone.
What a treasure to own!
My own flesh, my own feelings.
No other, how ever grand or base,
can ever contain the same.
My signature,
thumbing the pages of my time.
My universe key,
my singularity.
Impress, implant,
I am my self
of all my atom parts I am the sum.
And out of my blood and my brain
I make my interior weather,
my own sun and rain.
Imprint my mark upon the world
what ever I shall become.What is Supposed to Happen by Naomi Shihab Nye
When you were small,
we watched you sleeping,
waves of breath
filling your chest.
Sometimes we hid behind
the wall of baby, soft cradle
of baby needs.
I loved carrying you between
my own body and the world.
Now you are sharpening pencils,
entering the forest of
lunch boxes, little desks.
People I never saw before
call out your name
and you wave.
This loss I feel,
this shrinking,
as your field of roses
grows and grows….
Now I understand history.
Now I understand my mother’s
ancient eyes.
Recommended Listening
Black Focus - Yussef Kamaal (Ooof!)
Kieran Hebden aka Four Tet has been assembling a Spotify playlist since 2016:
Just Piano - FKJ (a collection of eight soothing tracks composed in partnership with the Calm app)
And finally, this beautiful collaboration at a bus station in Newcastle UK:
Links of the Week
1000 Dreams (About refugees, By refugees)
My full Culture Connects talk about newsletters with Rajat Mittal of Boyish
Memu Choostamu, the Telugu adaptation of Faiz Ahmad Faiz's Hum Dekhenge
How Women Artists in South Asia Are Reinventing the Photobook
City of Ash: Photographing New York City on the Morning of 9/11
This short documentary gives me hope:
Participate in The Museum Art Challenge
The Alipore Post and ReReeti, in collaboration with seven museums across India, are hosting a unique art challenge for artists of any age and level to explore creativity.Join us in a 7-day drawing challenge from September 13-19, where you can express yourself in the medium of your choice and share your work with fellow artists from India and around the world.
Every day, we will be sharing an artwork and prompt word a day from each of the participating museum's collections in the hope of democratising the artistic process.Don't forget to use #TheMuseumArtChallenge when you share your artwork and follow the hashtag for more updates.
We’ve already received some lovely submissions for Day 1’s prompt: SIT and Day 2’s prompt: COLLAGE. Do catch up and join the challenge :)
Ending today’s newsletter with this beautiful comic by Grant Snider on Slowness:
Wishing you slowness and joy,
Rohini
If you'd like to support this labour of love, you can sign up to be a Patreon, buy me a coffee, become a paying subscriber or forward this email to friends who might enjoy it.