Hope Springs Eternal – Illness and Art

The thing with feathers that perches in your soul, and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all (Emily Dickinson). Grounds for believing something good will happen (my dictionary). The one virtue that keeps us believing that, if the sun isn’t shining on life today, then the rain must be bringing a healing, restorative power that will brighten our tomorrow (me).

The group leader of my art swap group, 14 Secrets for a Happy Artist’s Life, is also an art therapist. She finds ways to enrich, enlighten, further the understanding, empathy and wisdom in our lives as artists and humans, which are inextricably interwoven. One of her latest endeavors is a course I have signed up for, on Resilience and Art.

While researching, she discovered a wonderful site, Wisdom Commons the source for many of the quotes I used in this post. It explores the character qualities valued by secular and religious traditions across the globe. Listed alphabetically, hope is found linked to faith.

Hope — Hope in the face of difficulty. Hope in the face of uncertainty. The audacity of hope! In the end, that is God’s greatest gift to us. . . A belief in things not seen. A belief that there are better days ahead. President Barack Obama

“We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aid, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn.” Henry David Thoreau

Those of us living with chronic illness work to acquire a silver-lining type of hope to bring meaning to a daily routine with difficulties that might otherwise just be depressing.

Perhaps it was the need to find that hope that led me to explore a new, creative outlet when I had to leave my job. Art and illness are both a process, a journey, never entirely completed, always a new technique to learn, a new therapy to try. Then there is the need to feel productive, which is a byproduct of having worked full time for nearly 30 years.

Not long ago I made healing tags for the first time – one for a good friend who recently lost her father; another for a group member who lost her son to kidney disease, who talks on her blog about the devastation of outliving one’s child. I used pastels and watercolor crayons, which I hadn’t combined before, blending and rubbing to achieve a rich patina of blue-green.

I embellished them with what looks like hope to me, and I have to admit that I feel somewhat like a phony for espousing flowers and fairies to people who have weathered such significant loss.

For the past five years I’ve lived with chronic illness – an invisible one at that – but it’s not terminal so there is no finality to the grief. And I also do know there is much to be grateful for, there are always plenty of reminders should my memory fade. My faith has carried me through some fairly rough waters and the boat I have carved has held so far.

My hope is, that when I face the kind of grief that knocks the wind out of me, that lingers for a lifetime, it will be watertight.

I suppose when it comes right down to it, there is no life without suffering. Change. Struggle. Resilience and the ability to triumph over adversity. I have spent considerable time with those who have lost spouses, friends, relatives. And I’ve always wondered about the right thing to say in the wake of such profound loss.

Perhaps more than words, though, it’s about making the effort. Showing up. Faith. Love. Perseverance. Carry on, breathe in, breath out. Know that if hope offers no comfort today it will continue shining long enough to bring warmth when the clouds part.

National Invisible Chronic Illness Awareness Week plays an integral role in raising awareness and acceptance of the challenges faced by the thousands of people living with invisible chronic illness. National Invisible Chronic Illness Awareness Week provides much needed validation and support for those struggling to function in a society that moves at a rapid pace and places enormous value on productivity.

Patti Edmon is a former owner and Creative Director of EdmonDesign, a marketing and advertising firm in Lexington, KY. Prior to being diagnosed with Psoriatic Arthritis and Sjogren’s Syndrome early in 2005, she rode horses competitively, studied advanced fiction, managed the business and took care of her two children, now eleven and thirteen.

She has spent the past few years creating the Altered Attic, the name of her art studio, where she spends time, on good days, producing altered and mixed media art.
A lifelong writer, her non-fiction has appeared in regional publications. Visit her at http://pattiedmon.blogspot.com, where she posts her art and thoughts on an altered life.

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