Constellations No. 8

Paradise

Hello and welcome to Constellations No. 8—

The sun will shine its longest today. The solstice will tip the scales toward daylight, keeping the night at bay. Just look at all that midsummer daylight pouring in. What a marvel! Summer is the sweetest return. This one, especially so.

As I wrote in Constellations No. 7, the last six months have encompassed progress and patience with continued infusions and recovery. By the time you read this, I will have only one remaining treatment to complete - a fact that even as I write seems surreal. 

My doctors outlined this possible completion sixteen months ago. They presented a plan with the most sincere hope but no promises—a plan that meant: here is how we will try to save your life.

At that time the end of treatment was a distant horizon. I had been unmoored from life as I knew it and plunged into a gaping alternate reality. My cancer did not seem real— let alone embarking on months of chemotherapy, or surviving it to completion.

Cycle is a word that arises frequently in the world of cancer treatment. When I meet with my oncologist, he reminds me of the number of cycles remaining in my plan. The infusion nurses repeat which cycle I am on before they connect my IV. Loved ones familiar with the details ask me how many I have left. These cycles and their subsequent impacts on my body, usurped every other reference to become the predominant organizing principle of my life, and a way of locating myself in time.

Now, I am at the near-culmination of the strange sequence I have lived by for fifteen months. I picture myself on a highway onramp—leaving my triweekly pattern behind to merge again with our seasonal cycles. 

With summer’s brilliance in sight, I mind the contradictions of this junction. The urgency to live as fully as I can is piercing, but I desire a slower and steady pace. I grieve the version of my life before cancer but I recognize that even this horrible experience may eventually bear fruit. I remind myself of the opportunity to re-enter with intention - to choose to realize exactly what I want in my life; to let go of what I do not. 

Here on the brink of summer, I am both returning to myself and I am changed. I reckon with the fact that, astonishingly, I am one of the lucky ones, at least for now, in this singular moment.

Right now I am alive to witness June fern boughs unfurl little by little in the dappled light at the forest’s edge. Right now I am alive to swim in the deep blue lake. Right now I am alive to revel in the love of my family and friends, and to fiercely love them back.

I am alive to embrace myself as I was before, as I am now, and as I might be. Summer is here, and I am alive. 

TRAVELOGUE

New York Flashback

Last January, my husband Craig (what a gem!) surprised me with tickets to see Alex Katz’s retrospective, Gathering, at the Guggenheim Museum. We ate gorgeous food, spent leisurely hours immersed in Katz’s life work, and criss-crossed the city from 90th to 1st. I returned home to our little village by the lake, refreshed and invigorated by everything I’d seen and tasted, and ready to dive into my art practice with renewed spirit. Six weeks later I was diagnosed with breast cancer. 

Since then, the trip has dangled in my memory like a bright light in a dusty attic. My imagination spun it into a sort of epic last stop - the full moment before an all consuming cloud of uncertainty settled into every nook of my life. I am working on an essay about the show and the experience that I will share soon on Pocket Change. In the meantime here are the drawings I made way back then—a year and a lifetime ago. 

Adventure Again

When you get this, my family and I will be in the midst of a much-anticipated trip to Paris and Amsterdam that we had originally planned for last year. A few months ago we rebooked the trip with the fervent hope that we would be able to make it happen, and now we are actually doing it. It feels like a wild privilege to be healthy enough to travel, and to adventure again with my beloved family. 

While planning and preparing I shared a few memories with our daughters from my first visit to France with my mom in 1993. As a young teen I was completely spellbound when I saw the art in real life that I had only before seen in books (I was particularly obsessed with Degas’ pastel drawings), walked through Monet’s gardens at Giverny, and gazed at the Eiffel Tower from Pont Neuf. Luckily my mom had photo albums at the ready - proof to back up my tales. 

NEWS

New Work for Farm Club

I just started to dip back into freelance illustration - and what a joy it was to work on a project recently with Farm Club. This illustrated map postcard will help share Farm Club’s guiding principles and abundant, multifold operation with everyone who visits. Look for it the next time you stop by! 

IN MY KITCHEN LATELY

Health Nut by Jess Damuck

Jess Damuck’s book Health Nut has been a staple on my kitchen counter for the last few months. I’m convinced the green juice recipe kept my kids from spring colds. We’ve devoured the salmon bowls with quick pickles, crunchy peanut butter granola and especially the low-effort, high-reward tahini chocolate dates recipe, tucked into the back pages of the sweets chapter.

A BRIGHT LIGHT

Talking with Anna Brones

Image by Anna Brones

Artist, writer and educator Anna Brones (Fika: The Art of the Swedish Coffee Break and Culinary Cyclist) recently reached out to interview me for her newsletter and podcast Creative Fuel. I’ve long admired Anna’s intricate paper cut art and evocative writing. It was an honor to chat with her about creative practice and much more - we chatted about perfectionism and ambition in the face of life-altering events, patience and urgency, creative multiplicity, and leaning into what feels good.

Subscribe to Creative Fuel to learn more about Anna’s work and workshops. And stay tuned @annabrones @lindsaygardnerart for the whole interview when it is published soon.

A POEM FOR THE MOMENT

by James Baldwin

PARADISE

Let this be my summertime
Of azure sky and rolling sea,
And smiling clouds, and wind-kissed laughter,
And just myself entranced with thee.
And children playing in the glory
Of a carefree, youthful day,
And sunshine shining from the heavens,
And tears and sighing fled away.
Let this be my happiness
'Midst the earth's swift-flowing woe.
Let this be my only solace-
Just to know you love me so.
Just to know that we'll go winging,
Far above this earthy clime,
Hand in hand through laughing meadows.
Let this be my summertime.