"The kaleidoscope of quiet creativity,
in a variety of shape, colour, and focus,
buoyed my spirits and kept me sane. My hands
stayed busy, and my mind stayed on Him."
BRENDA LEYLAND
Happy first day of Spring! In true Spring fashion, it's raining here and we are happy about that. There are puddles and rivulets gurgling down the street. We've seen the odd 'early bird' pairs of ducks and Canada Geese flying overhead towards the pond. There's no sign of full flocks arriving just yet. It's a tad early with ponds and lakes around here still thawing. Life for us is less hectic these days, and we're glad to be getting back to our writing here on the blog. I've missed you all. Thank you to everyone who came by and left notes on recent posts - although I didn't respond to them at the time, please know I appreciated each one, and you.
Today I am excited to share with you an essay I wrote for the anthology Creativity & Chaos, Artistic Endeavours for Trying Times, published by InScribe Press in 2024. I wrote the piece following the global pandemic (which now seems a lifetime ago). I hope you enjoy my reflections from that season.
A Kaleidoscope of Creativityby Brenda LeylandWho could even think about artistic pursuits at such a time? All thought of creativity vanished as we heard alarming news of an unknown virus fast-tracking its way across the continents. Seismic shockwaves threatened the fabric of our societies, our homes, and our very lives. Described as the greatest peacetime crisis of our lifetime, millions faced devastation. We stayed glued to our televisions, smartphones, and computers, desperate to learn what was this hellish thing.
At home, our personal world shrank—it came to a standstill. My husband and I, both retired, quarantined inside our own four walls, minds whirling with how to figure out what it meant to go out only for essentials, to mask up, social distance, and stick to one’s cohort group. All to stay safe in a world that felt unsafe and scary. It didn’t seem quite appropriate to carry on with business as usual; for many, there was no business to carry on with. For me, I asked myself how I could continue writing on my blog about living a beautiful life amid such circumstances.
Still, hope is that feathered thing that rises on a breath of air. And glimpses of it began shimmering out of the darkness. In our home, it happened to be the spring bulbs we planted in pots months earlier. No one could have imagined just how priceless those little brown globes of promise would become. The world had shut down around us, but inside our house it was a veritable greenhouse of bulbs sprouting and blooming in shades of spring daffodils, tulips, hyacinth, and irises. My troubled thoughts lightened. My camera took on new significance as it captured shades of beauty from every angle at every stage. Those harbingers of spring soon appeared on my blog and social media, their message to the world: Look at us. Take hope, dear friends, take hope.
Still super-glued to my smartphone for the latest news, there was something else going on out there, something most interesting. People were converging on social media platforms like I’d never seen before. Creatives began saying, we can’t do our normal things, we’re stuck in our homes, what can we do to keep occupied and sane? How can we support each other during these ghastly days?
Creativity and creative expression blossomed and exploded. Artists, writers, and performers took to social media, creating community despite the isolation. Opera divas sang from their balconies. Pianists performed spontaneous concerts in their homes [and posted them online]. Artists painted. One actor began reciting Shakespeare’s sonnets—all 154 of them in as many days. And actress, Jennifer Ehle, with her oh-so-familiar Elizabeth Bennet voice (1995 film), started reading Pride and Prejudice to the delight of her followers on Instagram.
Artistic energy radiated through cyberspace. And to our huge surprise, people everywhere were joining in. Children hung their art from their living room windows. Folks stocked up on flour and yeast, turning their kitchens into centres of doughy creativity. People offered their ‘regular life’ skills on YouTube videos and showed us how to exercise in place, cut our own hair, play the guitar, paint, and quilt. You name it, they showed us how to create it at home. At first, I was content enough to be an observer appreciating their many efforts. Soon I longed to join in—I wanted to be a part of this astounding phenomenon. Pandemic or not, my heart still pulsed with the desire to write about life's beautiful moments. People more than ever needed some respite, a few moments that made them feel normal in an abnormal time. I wanted to offer them something that buoyed the spirits and provided a hint of beauty so that, once heartened, they could carry on.
So, what could I offer? Well, I could blog more often, every day for a season, instead of weekly. I had books. I could press my books into service and write about my favourites. You know how it is when you visit friends in their homes, you hanker to peek at their bookshelves. Since readers couldn’t come to my house, I brought the books to my readers. I chose volumes that would inspire, give comfort, and a sense of well-being. It was especially meaningful to find comments from readers who were so glad I was still there, writing, despite the strange times. My purpose was confirmed. The horrid sense of isolation faded. I felt connected—my online community was real. Something lovely and unexpected came out of this book series. The author of a favourite book I had written about got in touch with me all the way from The Netherlands. Daniel Blajan had authored a delightful volume twenty-five years earlier, and during Covid lockdowns, he found my blog post about it and emailed me. We enjoyed a small flurry of emails back and forth across the Atlantic, and then one day his charming real mail letter arrived in the post with a personalized autograph. It’s now safely tucked inside my copy of Foxgloves & Hedgehog Days, Secrets in a Country Garden.
Summer came and our flower garden, like the tulips earlier, gave us infinite joy and beauty during those stay-at-home days. My iPhone camera captured hundreds of floral poses, and soon many of them were being published on my blog and social media. I designed several photo books, including one that featured my mom’s gorgeous Peace Rose, which I gave to her on her socially distanced 85th birthday. Another album, also for my mom, showcased her family, including pets, scattered across the provinces, to document our Covid-restricted first year. It included visits out in parking lots, family birthday cakes enjoyed virtually, and happy but heart-sad pictures of my dear niece’s wedding which her entire family could attend only via Zoom.
Home, usually a peaceful place, became a true sanctuary. I no longer felt the restrictions as I had at first. I found purpose, and despite all, continued to catch glimpses of heaven in unexpected places, right in my own house and neighbourhood. The simpler, slower pace of my days gave me other opportunities to be more reflective. I engaged in several smaller creative pursuits, such as sorting through old scrapbooks from my school days and writing some of those stories that still wanted to be told. I picked up my love of writing old-fashioned letters the snail mail way and stocked up on boxes of artsy greeting cards (thanks to Amazon’s delivery service). Along with my handwritten notes, I’d tuck in small surprises: sachets of tea, quotes, stickers, blank postcards, anything fun that snugged inside a card-size envelope. The real thrill for me was imagining a friend’s face when she discovered real mail waiting for her in the mailbox.
Out of these tumultuous times, came beautiful things. My mind a creative blank, having gone into hiding at the outset, was set free when I poured myself into something other than fretfulness and anxiety. The kaleidoscope of quiet creativity, in a variety of shape, colour, and focus, buoyed my spirits and kept me sane. My hands kept busy, and my mind stayed on Him. I will never forget the world’s ingenious creative response to this terrible season. And I am so grateful to have been a tiny part of this luminous world-wide creativity during a global pandemic.🙟
❦
Wishing you a beautiful day,
Brenda
Photo credits:
Brenda Leyland @ It's A Beautiful Life
My Blogging Schedule:
I post on Fridays
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