Weather Report
Every day, beginning in the pandemic and continuing until he stopped posting them to YouTube, Andy and I would watch David Lynch's weather report.
"Beautiful blue skies and golden sunshine, all along the way! Everyone! Have a great day!"
We dialed up a weather report - just a random one - last weekend and as I was putting my hand to my forehead to return the salute as is custom in this house, I started crying.
David Lynch died on January 15. I've written about him before, explaining that his ideas about creativity helped me to understand my own. I have a knack for sitting in the chair and doing it, but it wasn't until I following along with Lynch's descriptions of his own practice that I learned what I was doing. I also learned what it was I was waiting for - not a lightning strike, but a conversation and a conversation that would go as deep as I would let it. Lynch describes these cooperative, creative encounters as instances of "bliss." Maybe that's what I experience in these spiraling conversations, ones that I have to wrench myself away from and that require a few moments to get my bearings. I'm sure I look like a wild animal when I come out of that state - at least, that's a bit how I feel. Wild. It's one of my favorite feelings, this wildness.
One thing I appreciate most in reflecting on David Lynch's career and creative offerings is that he really did share with the world what was his to see and share. He didn't ever seem to stray from that "his-ness," and didn't seem to worry too much about whether everyone liked it. We can all use examples of folks who put work into the world with their stamp on it, repeatedly and unapologetically. I'm taking this little lesson with me as I forge ahead.
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