For around 15 years, I’ve worked under the username: No Ordinary Moment. When I used it to name my blog and then art websites, I did it for a couple of reasons.

First, of course, is simple. It’s my last name. Moment. I attached No Ordinary to Moment because I liked the idea of both - not being an ordinary Moment (referring to myself - my enneagram #4 traits showing up there) and also the idea that there are no ordinary moments in life.

In the process, I found a quote that I thought went well with it:


“Begin doing what you want to do now. We are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand--and melting like a snowflake...”

I still remember clearly when I latched onto No Ordinary Moment as a working moniker. I was thinking about how to step outside of my fear, embrace my life, and boldly do the things that I most wanted to do. I wanted to live a creative life filled with art, beauty, seeking truth and growth, and being in community.

Today, as I’m writing this, I’m sitting next to a window closed against the heat, humidity, and smoky wildfire air. I look out, and the sky is a flat grey, and the light is tinted a faint orange-yellow. Between the heat and the 20+ days of air advisories, we haven’t been able to spend a lot of time outside this summer. It was cool to read that Wisconsin has been fortunate to have enough rain that our fire warning levels are low. Low enough that WI firefighters have been able to help other parts of the country and into Canada.

The wildfire smoke makes things less beautiful and more toxic... feels the same as looking at the political/social climate here in the US. Last night, Paul and I watched Rachel Maddow say (paraphrased):

“We are in a place we did not want to be, but we are here. We are in it. Life has not stopped, and none of our personal lives have stopped. But also, life in the United States has profoundly changed and is changing. We live in a country that has an authoritarian leader in charge and is a consolidating dictatorship.”

All of us are, as Rachel said, continuing to live our lives. We need to do all the things that are necessary for our lives to continue – going to work, making meals, doing laundry, cleaning the cat box, running errands, making plans, and scheduling an appointment with the optometrist to get a new prescription. We have put off getting new glasses for far too long.

And.

AND.

The assault on our country by insatiably destructive, selfish people who found a way to get themselves put into places of (I won’t call it leadership at this point) power. The scaffolding of our country is so flimsy that the walls we thought we could count on to protect us are crumbling away with the push of a finger.

Our brains aren’t built to reconcile these happenings at the same time. Last week, we got a new fridge that is incredibly useful and lovely. And, people are being kidnapped (by unidentifiable masked people) off the streets of our country without a trace.

I’m happy to be painting more and working to build a business that will both accommodate me as a neurodivergent person and allow me to make a living. And, systems – scientific, administrative, health, and social – that have been in place to keep us informed and safe are being disassembled and destroyed.

In Madison, WI, a sandhill crane couple is raising an orphaned Canadian goose in addition to their colt. And a vital, constitutional pillar of our country, that all are created equal... they have their wrecking balls out and are aggressively swinging to take it down.

I’ve been having dreams of grief. The dreams aren’t mapped to sources of grief in the real world, but the emotion appears in reaction to the tales that my dream consciousness is spinning. The day before yesterday, I woke up with a cloak of grief draping heavily over me. The story that created the emotion wasn’t meaningful to me, but holy wow, the potent grief that it pulled up from deep down!

It’s heartbreaking and scary. And, I have seen example after example of Americans showing up in the face of ICE, congresspersons, lawless behavior, and the entire regime. Challenging them to be and do better.

I’m continuing with day-to-day... and I have found the emotional weight has been debilitating for me too. My health has taken some hits. My emotional resilience isn’t as strong as I’d like it to be. I’ve been a spotty communicator with family and friends because I’ve always prided myself on being a supportive and encouraging person.

That part of me is more fragile right now. Simple things feel challenging. And, I especially don’t want to be an added source of difficulty for those I love. I withdraw. (And, no, that’s not the response I want to have.)

Working on this note to you is a part of choosing and practicing a non-retreat response. I’m working to find an authentic way, as a creative, that is grounded in reality while working towards love, beauty, art, community, and truth that I want to see more of in the world.

So, how do I embrace my mission of No Ordinary Moment? Back then, it was a way to remind myself to pay attention. My goal was to overcome internalized fear and to pursue and honor the beauty of life through art. It continues as that, and now, it is also my reminder to remain engaged, even when things feel broken and unclear.

In a recent video, Heather Cox Richardson quoted Harriet Tubman, who said:

The only way out is through.

I’m working on what all this means for me. — I am going to keep painting, writing, and connecting.

If you’re feeling grief, too, or confusion, or just trying to stay human and find a way to love this world and the people in it, you’re not alone.

I don’t have a conclusion, really. No polished point or perfect takeaway. Just a feeling and hope that being honest, continuing to show up, and staying connected - that’s what is there for me to do.

Thanks for being here with me.
Janece