January 2025

Somewhere between immeasurable grief and just one pull up.

   January was heavy, heavy, heavy. I have been unable to hold my grief. It has come spilling out of me in ugly, dysregulated bursts. It has shown up with numbness, the desperation to bury myself somewhere nothing can find me. Many tears. So much despair.
   I feel grief for the people who are afraid for their rights. I feel grief for the people who are so afraid of the world that they are taking away the uniqueness and autonomy of others. I feel grief at the state of the environment, the seemingly never ending calamities that we face that we ourselves have caused. I feel grief for the things I can’t do anything about, all the people and animals I can’t give a safe home to, all the hurts far beyond my reach. I feel grief that I put time and effort into finding a following on instagram, only to have that platform turn into a mess that feeds my creations to AI so that a computer can make art for me. I feel grief for the people we thought we could trust and admire being exposed as flawed and harmful and human. I feel grief that the organic produce I want but struggle to afford to buy comes in a plastic bag. I feel grief for the tiny ladybug that doesn’t know it’s invasive, didn’t come here on purpose or by choice, and didn’t know that trying to winter in my house would lead to its death. 
   I feel grief that no doubt many people would look at this list and scoff and say I’m too sensitive, too emotional, irrational. No person could really feel all that. What’s the point?
   It is beyond overwhelming.

  I find myself drawing big fey creatures holding tiny vulnerable sprouts. They are tender and earthy, and they seem to whisper to the seedling “It will be okay, I’ve got you.” Oh how I want to shed my human skin and become something fey, something integrated with nature, something capable of flitting in and out of reality, going anywhere I want to go. Existing and doing no harm. A creature with magic in its touch. Magic that heals. Magic that renews. I would spend my days planting trees and dancing.
   …Possibly incessantly pinching and stealing the socks of those who hold great power and choose to use it for harm.
   How do I get just unhinged enough to start having rapturous visions, I wonder? I want an all knowing, truly all loving mystical god to come shimmying down a silver pole into my studio, blow me a kiss and a wink, bells, whistles, a dance number and a light show. They would tell me “I have a plan, I am in control, I am going to make it all fair and good and okay. I’ll make it so easy and obvious for you, you just keep doing you baby girl. I love you, you’re good, keep painting and don’t worry about a thing.”
   This god is Tyler Gaca in this vision, ideally.
   No matter how distraught I get, I wait and wait and it does not happen. The only one here is me. And oh do I feel small, small, small. I do not feel like a fey creature at all. I feel like the seedling, barely beginning, breakable at the slightest touch. How do I make change when I am so very, very small?
   When I’m not having a meltdown, I reach for the light. I open my little leaves to older and wiser voices.
   “No one has ever healed through shame.”
   I want to give in to the immense guilt and shame I feel at just… being a human. Being a part of the problem. But that does not in any way motivate me to unfuck myself. If I believe humans are inherently evil and The Problem, then I get to do nothing, give up, stay lazy. Wilt. Wither. Rot.
   Just as hurt people will hurt people, so too will healed people heal other people, or so I have been told. Doing work to heal yourself serves everyone, the whole. And with this quote taped on every wall so I see it over and over, written on my forehead, tattooed on my eyeballs, I pick up one tiny thing. One small thing. And I do my best to give it compassion, I give it love.
   Even when the only tiny little thing I feel able to hold right now is just me.


   Things that I have been reading and listening to that are helping me learn, cope, and hope:

• Joanna Macy, We are the Great Turning podcast. I don’t have words for the experience of listening to this podcast. Joanna Macy is an environmental activist, author of Active Hope, How to Face the Mess We’re in Without Going Crazy, which is on its way to me from Thrift Books and I cannot wait to read. (Spotify link)
• Ruthie Lindsey, somatic therapist. She is such a beacon of light and joy and compassion. Her recent interview here is one of my favorites: (Spotify link)
• I’m learning about shadow work, owning up to my complicated and often dark inner world. Learning to see the dark parts but not hate them or shame them. Shadow work was first named by Carl Jung, and many excellent resources now exist for learning more!
• No Bad Parts by Richard Schwartz. Learning about Internal Family Systems (think inner child, only expanded!)  made me feel so much less crazy, so much hope. Mapping and getting to know my parts in search of that Self, that central core of us all that is compassionate and curious… both fascinating and healing.
• Radical Compassion by Tara Branch. R.A.I.N. is a really important practice that I have yet to be able to do well, but it’s a practice. You get better as you go along. (I hope!)
• Therapy. With a somatic therapist. I know I am beyond lucky to have this resource. Learning how to get into my body and out of my head, breathing tools. Learning how to feel my feelings instead of burying them, but also not letting them drown me. A safe space to be heard, support when I just can’t. Invaluable. A privilege I will never take for granted.
• Journaling. So much journaling.
• Writing, reading fiction. Allowing myself escapism. Taking reality and relief in turns. I still have plans to write my stories, but winter has forced me into a little hibernation break. A natural cycle I’m trying to convince my brain to embrace instead of judge and shame. (Capitalist productivity expectations, am I right?) My favorite fun read so far this year has HIGHLY unexpectedly been Leech by Hiron Ennes. DON’T TELL ME HOW IT ENDS I’m about halfway through. I’m hooked!!! (Fair warning, not a cozy book, per se. Mild horror and weird sci fi, but it's just so good!) (If you want a cozy read that will delight and comfort, stay tuned, I'll share some of my favorites soon.)
• Music by Thomas J. Curran

   And, of course, my art. When I grow too weary from looking at the bad in the world, I get to turn away. None of us can live in that space all the time. We all require rest. We all have different thresholds, different capacities. I get to escape into a land of green creatures nurturing little seeds. A world of wild eyes poking out of a thicket. Gentle giants who have lived centuries, seen so many cycles of death and rebirth through the seasons, they know it will be alright. In my world, all the wonderful wild uniqueness is allowed to be itself, its imperfect and strange and whimsical whole self. Be it hairy, delicate, squat, or stony. In a month I’ve already done 3 paintings, a 4th nearly finished! NONE of it was on my to do lists for book completion. But it was needed.
   I’m learning to do pull ups. I can’t even do one. How am I supposed to scale the walls and save the distressed if I can’t do a pull up??? So… I’m trying. I have pull up bands. I strain and grunt and shout “YES I CAN!” to my cats who lazily stare at me from the sunshine on the floor, wondering what their nutty darling human is up to now.  I trust that even though I can’t yet, not yet, in time, by inches, bit by bit, some day, I will. (I follow Nourish Move Love for free at home workouts, because seriously, who the heck has enough self confidence and motivation to work out in public?)

   If you found yourself asking "What could possibly be the point of feeling all that grief?" to you I would gently say: If you're not feeling grief, then you aren't seeing the hurt we are causing. The point is that if we don't see, we can't admit we need to change. We stay numb, we keep performing actions and repeating cycles that hurt others. We have to feel it to see the harm we do. And if we don't find ways to then comfort that grief, we can never become motivated to do something about the things that make us so immeasurably sad. The grief is part of the process. A stepping stone to healing and growing. I think it is not ridiculous at all to be an emotional wreck over the bad in the world. I think maybe my grief is going to lead me to places where I make a difference. For me and for you.
   I hope you are well. I hope you are warm. I hope you are supported and safe and open to trying to do the work of facing the shadows, facing your own shadow, and turning back to the light over and over and over again.
    And I dare to hope that maybe my words and my art can help.
 Lara Jean

   P.S. In case anyone is unfamiliar with what’s happened with Instagram and Facebook, they state openly in their user agreement that they have full rights to whatever you post, and they use any images/videos/words posted to train AI. That means they have full rights to my art if I share it there, and they will feed it to AI so that a machine can make copies. This is why most creators are trying to migrate to other apps, and encourage people to do things like sign up for newsletters. I am now pushing my following to Bluesky, tumblr, Cara, and my newsletter.
   If you're reading this, THANK YOU for taking the time not only to support me by being here, but also for reading this far! You’re amazing. Your effort and interest and care are so needed and so valuable. Keep it up.

If you are wanting prints of any of the new art I've shared in this blog, you can find all of them on my Etsy shop! US shipping is free. I have my kids books in stock there as well. Your support helps me make more art!

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