turning toward living
on being away, attention, patron saints and meeting in person
I have been away…
As my daughter grows, I ponder: what do I want her to witness me doing? What sort of values do I hope to instill, and how do I model them now, rather than when she is old enough to make her own decisions? How can I be more present with her, with life, and simultaneously be with wonder? How can I more vehemently turn toward living?
Spring is beginning to spring here in Maine, and as it does, I find myself creating space wherever I’m able. A natural thing to do this time of year - clearing debris in the garden, cleaning out drawers, investing in a new notebook, making time for hand work and crafts with my wee one, inviting ritual back into my writing and art making.
A few months ago, I deleted all social media apps. Without social media, making art is a quiet, mostly solitary practice, with few to no eyes on my work. This feels like a blessing. Occasionally, a lonely one. Still, I know that likes and comments and followers are not what I'm seeking, let alone what my process needs.
I want to sit at a table with writers and makers, discuss process and the unseen forces that assist us, what sorts of messages the birds and the flowers are imparting, what books are on our nightstands, etc. And so, instead of spending time turning my writing into posts and other sorts of fast content, I am investing my time into an in person gathering, the specifics of which are at the bottom of this missive.
As I continue to spend my time away from social media (and by and large screens in general), I notice my nervous system softening. There is a slowness I couldn’t catch before. There is a more unique authenticity to my work. I feel my values shifting, more aligned with who I am as a soul in a vast universe and as a mother on a weeping planet. I am reminded, in unforeseen ways, that time is a gift. That attention is how I honor this gift.
Social media had turned my attention into currency, commodified it in ways I never saw coming. It had made itself the middleman for meaningful connection. I grapple with these truths and their nuances, and continue to wonder where my art and I might go from here.
After a full season away, here is what I know: that my art flourishes when it isn’t monetized, that I wield my attention best when it isn’t commodified, that I feel most authentic in both creating and doing when there isn’t an inkling in the back of my mind of how I might share such things online, that my body feels unquantifiably more content when it’s moving and outside (two things that screens seriously hamper). And finally, my ultimate desire: to show my daughter what it means to turn towards living.
patron saints
If I’m being honest, part of what helped me get offline this past winter was an unending sense of insecurity, depression and (admittedly) rage, (the likes of which I am beginning to feel myself shedding). Throughout winter, I found myself contemplating my Catholic upbringing. Not so much that which made me denounce the identity of Catholic, but the pieces of religion which, for better, stuck. The pieces that feel like a life raft when lost at sea. This past winter, I began calling upon the saints.
For as long as I can remember, I have called upon flowers, a landscape, an ever present bird, a celestial body, or my own for guidance. I find a sort of kinship between this practice and speaking with the saints - I do things like speak my gratitude, my fears and my frustrations aloud to them, read them poems, pick a song for them and turn the volume up, ask them where the hell to go from here.
This communication with the saints of my youth feels like a sort of relationship building, a tending that has helped me return to buried pieces of myself. It feels like an awakening of dormant aspects of my psyche. I am more attentive to what is in front of me and moving with greater care and tenderness.
Eventually, this practice made its way into my writing and I began a new project… assigning patron saints of poetry and writing odes to them. Mary Oliver, patron saint of attention. Joy Harjo, patron saint of quiet revolution. Eavan Boland, patron saint of mothers. Thus far, this list of saints is thirteen long, and growing.
on attention
Children inherently know the art of attention. They are born fluent in its language. On a daily basis, I am handed countless pebbles, stones, seeds and flowers, (dead and alive). Each one carries a moment of utter fascination and presence.
Occasionally, I inwardly roll my eyes as I thank wee Susie or Johnny for the gift I'm handed. But when I allow their wonder to infiltrate my tough, aged exterior, I am met with reverence, gratitude and a general sense of, “damn, what are the odds?”. Each object is a gift - a small reminder that I am here and these children are here and this pebble is here and we have each found one another.
The patron saint of paying attention, Mary Oliver, tells us ‘attention is the beginning of devotion'. This quote, from her book of essays Upstream, has kept me afloat over the years. It is, I think, the work of God in motion.
Observing. Noting. Inviting. These are the channels through which gratitude flows. Attention allows one to remain open, to soften to possibility, to investigate with a birds eye view.
a poet in the world
Local to southern Maine? Let's gather and write!
Together, we'll begin simply…
Begin or enliven a poetry practice
Write a poem (or two, or three)
Explore accessible poetry, discover new works & poets to inspire your process
Meet fellow poets and writers in your community
Gain a few prompts and provocations for your writing tool kit, learn new ways to source inspiration from what's on hand
When: Saturday, April 26th, 10 - 11:30 AM
Where: Little Farm School, Limerick, Maine
What to bring: a favorite notebook and writing utensil
All are welcome!
To register, please shoot me an email: katfarrelldavis@gmail.com I will reply with a link to donate, a poem, next steps/specifics and a thank you.
Suggested donation: $15-$35 - All proceeds to support Little Farm School staff in taking the LifeWays Fundamentals training this summer.
What we engage with in the quiet moments matters. It’s an honor to share some of them with you.
With crocuses,
Kat
Thank you, Kat. Just what I needed to read this morning ❤️🌺 I look forward to your complete list of Patron Saints ✨
I was *just* thinking about you...and invoking spirit food and sending blessings your way....as I prepared food to share with two new mamas in our community....including near-magical postpartum pumpkin butter. 💙