An Opening (Art Memoir - Offering 1)
Start here: Preface and Poem of Eclosion: An Artist's Path to Peace and Power
Welcome to Drop 1 of Eclosion: An Artist’s Path to Peace and Power, a year-long memoir in motion. Each week, I’ll share new chapters or reflections.
We begin with a definition, a poem, and the first opening words of the journey.
Eclosion (ih-KLOH-zhuhn):
1. The emergence of a butterfly from its chrysalis.
2. A moment of stepping into full form after transformation.
We Are the Imaginal Cells
Before a caterpillar fills its chrysalis,
it enters a feeding frenzy of overconsumption
I ask myself, does it overeat intentionally?
or with blind instinct?
Inside of its chrysalis,
a caterpillar’s tissues melt
into an undifferentiated ‘goo’
I wonder, does it trust the process?
or does it feel like it’s dying?
Inside this ‘goo’
this nutrient soup of melted tissues
are something scientists call
imaginal cells,
the seeds of future potential,
holding the blueprint
of what it means to become a flying creature
Regarded as threats
imaginal cells are attacked
by the caterpillar’s immune system
But the imaginal cells persist—
they multiply
connecting with one another
they begin forming clusters and clumps
that resonate at the same frequency
until they reach a tipping point
and a butterfly is born
…
We are in the chrysalis of humanity right now
We are in the imaginal ‘goo’
connecting with one another
passing ideas back and forth
forming communities
and fostering hope
Together we work towards a tipping point
of generative energy
a societal eclosion
of new possibilities emerging
in ever-growing and expanding networks of
creative bodies
We Are the Imaginal Cells
holding a vision for a future
we know we can create.
What will you do to make this vision reality?
An Opening
As I sat in meditation one day, six months after learning of my husband Shon's remission, images from the past few years flooded my mind: Shon, sick and unable to get out of bed; our daughter Seren, cuddling next to him; and me, unfolding out of fear and resistance as I found acceptance and stepped into my own power.
Sitting in stillness, a thought arrived: I should write a book about Shon’s cancer journey. Immediately followed by: What if writing that book was fun and easy?
I’d been writing more over the past few years. Sometimes it was difficult, other times the writing simply seemed to flow. But I had never thought about writing an actual book. Sure, the thought of a coffee table book with images and stories of my art had crossed my mind; not a memoir.
Definitely not a cancer memoir. How on earth could that be fun and easy? Even so, as the thought settled inside, it felt alive, brimming with possibility. So, I made a decision to follow this inspiration. What emerged while I wrote was much more than I anticipated. I knew this would be a book about my journey as an Artist as much as about overcoming challenges while walking beside my husband as he battled cancer. I did not expect to write such a deeply personal account, delving into my experiences with childhood sexual harassment and my journey from alcoholism to sobriety—two aspects of my life that have always felt too personal and loaded with negative societal stigma to discuss publicly. I discovered that I couldn’t tell the story of becoming an Artist without talking about these hard aspects of my life. I couldn’t share my love story without digging into Shon’s role in my artistic and sobriety journeys.
And there were these questions that kept surfacing within me over the past year: How did I become the person I am today, so far removed from the scared, prideful kid I once was? How is it that today I get to be a successful Artist, with a capital ‘A’—one who fully claims that role not just as a profession, but as a way of seeing, being, and living? A mother who is proud of how she parents? A partner who falls back into old patterns of micromanagement and judgment less and less, and does her best to take accountability for those missteps and love her husband well?
I’ve succeeded in ways that are far beyond what I once imagined, catalyzing ripples of change with wide-reaching impacts. It is equally true that to get to this place, I had to fall to my knees, weeping and crying and fighting and denying, before finally accepting—so that I could stand up and be the person I am today.
When I speak of artists, or Artists, in the following pages, I mean all creatives. Professional Artists, community leaders, and students. Those who dabble in dance, painting, music, and beyond. Even, and maybe especially, those who haven’t yet released the creativity that lives inside. Each of us holds creative potential.
This story is a Healing—an invitation. Like tributaries coming together to make the river of my life, this story has many beginnings, all braiding together and flowing into one deep river as I continually learn to show up in new and more expansive ways. There is the stream of claiming my creative power, the tributary of breaking through the dams of shame and guilt and addiction, the channel of walking through crises within my family. Oh, and of course, it’s a love story. Aren’t they all?
Like in nature, growth is cyclical. We don’t enter a chrysalis only once—we return, deepen, emerge, and sometimes cocoon again. The chapter flow reflects that pattern of returning and becoming.
You can read this book simply as an honest, albeit sometimes painful, and engaging story. You can use it as a guidebook to reach your fullest potential. You can even use it as a resource and template for how to take action and make change—in your life, and in the world.
We are in a time of great change. Growing up, I would never have believed that I had the power and agency to change anything. Now I know that not only can I create change, but creating change is what I am here to do. In fact, these times demand each of us to stand tall in the face of adversity, to hold onto those near us with love and grace, to give all we can to create a world where all people have the opportunity to not only survive, but thrive—and to do so while following our own bliss. The world I want to live in and leave for our children requires us doing and being what we love.
Wherever you are in your own journey—cocooning, emerging, or flying high—I am honored to share the path with you.
If this speaks to you, I’d love for you to share it—or simply reflect with me in the comments.
Note: This opening poem, “We Are the Imaginal Cells,” emerged in workshops for The Chrysalis Project and took written form through collaboration with New Zealand arts educator Priya Gain.
It made me say "Oh" with a spark of realization when you mention that grotesque tree in your bedroom might have been a call for help. That makes sense now, however, I didn't see how detrimental your drinking was at the time, nor did I understand why someone would be so devoid of hope. Note to self for when I see such things in art. I remember trying to talk you out of the negativity in the painting, but I failed. Probably some deep listening to what was going on for you, not always my forte, would have been more beneficial.