Starry Night
When I was decompensating thirty-five years ago, I would drive from work to home to my children’s soccer games and back home again, despondent, confused, unsure of who I was, and certain I was crazy. The radio played in the background, mostly music I barely remember but sometimes a song came on that stopped me in my tracks. Melancholy music. Beautiful music. Snippets of words. Snatches of images. Visceral responses I couldn’t fathom.
The Song
… with eyes that know the darkness of my soul …
… shadows on the hills …
… swirling clouds in violet haze …
The Angst
I was in a haze myself so I barely registered the words until they suddenly pierced through my dissociation like a sword piercing someone’s flesh. The singer mentioned the name Vincent. Vincent took his life. I had attempted suicide once and my will to live was slipping away steadily.
One day the song came on and I pulled my car to the curb to listen carefully. I wanted to hear those words, all of them. The song ended with:
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me.
How you suffered for your sanity.
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they’re not listening still.
Perhaps they never will.
The Artist
At the time, I didn’t know who Vincent was but I was living his life and the singer was playing my soul. Of course, Vincent was the celebrated 19th century artist, Vincent Van Gogh, the singer/songwriter was Don McClean, and the song was Starry, Starry Night, named after one of Van Gogh’s most famous paintings. (Vincent’s diagnosis was bipolar disorder; mine is dissociative identity disorder.) Both the artist and the singer touched me deeply. I learned all I could about Van Gogh, I bought a copy of Starry Night and had it framed, I drank my morning tea from a Starry Night mug, and I played a Don McClean tape on my tape recorder daily. Someone, it seemed, understood me. I wasn’t alone like I thought I was. This painting and song became my companions as I struggled to maintain a semblance of my own sanity in the years to come.
The Exhibition
Yesterday, my husband and I went to a traveling light and sound exhibit of Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings called Beyond Van Gogh. It’s been years since I sold my framed copy of Starry Night in a garage sale, and years more since the mug met the same fate. (I don’t need to tell what happened to the tape and tape recorder — gone with the wind!) The sale of both convinced me I was getting healthy if I didn’t need Vincent by my side. Now I can look at Van Gogh’s whole portfolio and appreciate the brilliant color, composition, and innate ability to convey raw humanity and granularity of nature on a canvas. Now I can marvel at his artistic genius like any other sane person might. But my solidarity with his insanity still brings tears to my eyes.
The exhibit is unique in that it’s “an immersive experience” in a large room where his painting are not only projected onto the walls, but they are, in some cases, literally painted in front of your eyes. With over three hundred paintings and an original musical score, we were taken into the creative process itself. Before entering the large room with a 40 minute visual loop of his paintings, twenty or so large posters bore the story of his life with excerpts from his letters to his brother, Theo. Ron and I left the exhibit exhilarated by the unique experience of Vincent Van Gogh.
The Lesson
Thinking about this international exhibit that’s playing in countless cities around the world, I was struck by one quote from Vincent’s letters to Theo. “To succeed, to have lasting prosperity,” Van Gogh said, “one must have a temperament different from mine, I’ll never do what I could have and ought to have wanted and pursued.” Vincent Van Gogh never knew the true genius of his art, he never imagined it would impact generations, he never knew millions of people would be moved by his paintings in special exhibits 130 years beyond his death.
I thought about how we rarely know our own worth, how good, whole, decent, compassionate, and creative we really are. Likely, we’ll never know how many people we’ve touched over the years. We are suspended on a tightrope between the nightmare of old tapes and our relentless drive to heal. I am so glad my suicide attempt was unsuccessful. I’m so glad I’m here today to embrace my successes and failures. If only Vincent had hung on. If only he could have known how his paintings have inspired so many.
If you have the opportunity to see Beyond Van Gogh, I highly recommend it! May the stars in your night lead to greater healing.
The New Year at DW
Our schedule continues, inviting you to participate as much or as little in writers workshops, social gatherings, and other events as they come up. Our first traditional workshop will be held on Tuesday, January 3rd, 2023 at 1:00 pm Eastern (12 pm Central, 11 am Mountain, 10 am Pacific). Writing-in-place will be held on Tuesday, January 10th at the same times. Our DW meeting is scheduled for Monday, January 9th at 6:30 pm Eastern and social hangout on January 18th. Please see our Groupeasy calendar for all dates and events.
Creative Healing 2023
The DW writing anthology is almost at press! Look forward to seeing the written word and works of art in a beautiful new anthology. Our projected publication date is January 15th in it will be available for free download sometime later in January. Thank you to all who contributed and to Gabby and Debby who brought it to fruition!
Crazy Receives First Place Royal Dragonfly Award!
Crazy: Reclaiming Life from the Shadow of Traumatic Memory was named First Place Winner in the 2022 Biography/Autobiography/Memoir category of the Royal Dragonfly Award. The Royal Dragonfly honors excellence in all types of literature and book marketing, recognizing creativity and hard work for a comprehensive list of genres in 68 categories.
Healing Together 2023
An Infinite Mind is holding their annual Healing Together Conference in Orlando FL on February 17-19, 2023. If you are planning to attend or planning to lead a workshop, please let Lyn know so we can arrange for a DW reunion. Gabby is leading a workshop called Grief: Managing Loss through Art and Music and Lyn is leading a workshop called Confronting the F-Word.
New Year, New Call, New Responsibiities
I’ve been asked to be the half-time “bridge pastor” for a local Lutheran Church in Las Cruces. A bridge pastor bridges the gap between the intentional interim pastor who helps the congregation get ready for new ministry with a new pastor, and the new called, settled pastor. We expect this assignment to last until Easter (more or less) with a new pastor taking their place sometime soon. I’ve been clear with the church about my commitment to DW and they support me in that commitment. The difference you may see in the next few months is fewer newsletters as I’ll be spending a lot of time writing sermons instead of blog posts! I’m looking forward to helping this congregation but also looking forward to backing away and spending more time with you. See you in writers workshops! ~ Lyn
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Find things beautiful as much as you can, most people find too little beautiful.
~ Vincent Van Gogh to his brother Theo, London, January, 1874
Lyn