Living on the Pacific Ring of Fire, I am well-acquainted with earthquakes. In Seattle, we live with the potential of catastrophic change in an instant, a reality we avoid thinking about until uncontrollable shaking is felt at the surface.
As we know from high school Earth Science class, damage done on the earth’s crust during and after an earthquake is due to geological events happening miles below the mantle at the core. While we fixate on the jolt at the surface, the source of the shift is deep. As if the seminal seismic event isn’t traumatic enough, aftershocks often reverberate for days, weeks and months until the energy dissipates and life begins to return to “normal.” Mother Nature has interesting and occasionally unsettling ways of reminding us that we are not in control.
As I watch 2020 election returns, the earthquake seems an appropriate metaphor for this particular time in US history. Political power is shifting in real time. Aftershocks will be felt for days and months (perhaps years) to come. We move into a new presidential term with a profoundly polarized electorate; ideological and cultural fault lines are wide and deep. Will elected leaders be able and willing to bridge the divide and bind the wounds of a deeply divided nation digging out of the rubble?
Regardless the election results, I seek equilibrium in the wake of this national seismic event. In times of uncertainty, I often find balance and stability by turning inward. While tempted to focus on the overwhelming amount of external stimuli especially during political campaigns, I made a decision long ago to limit my consumption of network news and social media. I am an engaged and informed citizen, but access to news 24/7 is neither helpful to me nor necessarily accurate.
When my well-being requires turning off all channels, I head outdoors to the walking trail or make a beeline for my garage. In the garage studio, I find refuge in the world of colors, textures, paints and textiles. The textiles often serve as a mirror to what I am experiencing and become an expression of my thoughts and feelings. Over the years, I have discovered that the process of expressing the feelings is more important to me than the outcome on the surface, and that is certainly the case now.
While reading about seismology and the connection between science and creativity, I discovered the story of seismologist and bass guitarist Ed Garnero. Professor Garnero applies the science of earthquakes to building custom guitars. Fittingly, he describes feeling creative vibrations at the convergence of seismic and sound waves. Here’s the link to his fascinating story.
https://asunow.asu.edu/20191206-creativity-ed-garnero-asu-seismologist-guitar-maker