Belonging. Be + Longing.
Something I’m thinking about. Have been thinking about. Have always thought about.
I currently live somewhere where I don’t feel like I belong. But I have lived all over the place and have felt that way at times too. But never for this long.
I’ve read that longing to belong is just part of the human condition. hmmm. We feel a sense of exile and long to return to the embrace….but I’m not sure where or what that embrace is. The womb, God, the earth, the stars, bed?
I’ve met people who have always lived in the same place their whole lives and are anchored firmly in that place. I envy that. I’ve always felt that way since I was a child. Maybe it comes from having parents who were both from different parts of this planet, raising their family in a country that they themselves met, both communicating to each other and to their children in a second language. How brave they were. Although I’m sure I’m the only one of my family that feels that ongoing sense of displacement, so it’s probably just me and my temperament.
I belong to my children. That I know is truth. {And I am grateful.}
I belong in the creative process. That is my truth.
Be + Longing. Belonging. This is a mixed media collage made using an image transfer I used for a painting I made years ago, old denim from my favorite pair of studio jeans that I wore until I couldn’t patch it anymore, pages from an old book, fabric from my stash of scraps, a little paint and some pencil. I like to collect fragments and bring them together to make a whole, until the disparate bits and pieces find harmony with other bits and pieces and form a whole.