Imagine everything you thought you knew about your body made foreign. Dependent on caregivers, nervous system run amok, stranded in the desert… (To be fair, I chose to “temporarily” relocate to Santa Fe for better air quality and cutting-edge medical treatments.) Somehow I envisioned my midlife crisis originating from mind, not body.
A little background: I’ve just returned from two years of medical leave to rejoin the Circus Project Board of Directors. I won’t bore you with my smorgasbord of diagnoses, but one of the more challenging symptoms of this illness is electrosensitivity—a phenomenon I lampooned until it besieged me personally. For the last few years, I’ve been unable to hold a phone, be near a computer, or flip on a light switch without sparks flying—really. As you can imagine, this has put a bit of a cramp in my professional and social life. (ImmunocompromisedSingles.com lacked traction even pre-pandemic.)
Though different in nature, COVID-19 has mandated similarly drastic lifestyle changes. I empathize with the range of emotions this pandemic has unsurfaced: depression, hope, anxiety, jubilation at the downfall of capitalism. Without going full-on Polyanna, I try to uncover what brightness I can find in dark times: When humans stop trampling the earth, nature reasserts herself. When one sense dims, another is illuminated. I stopped being able to participate in performing arts, and I developed an interest in the visual arts.
Many folks are finding connection through technology, and I love hearing how friends are exploring new ways to be together, alone. I’m sure it’s reassuring to log in and see that the world has not stopped turning. But if you find yourself yearning for creative outlets IRL (or just need a break from Zooming, ‘Gramming, or Googling pandemic stats), here are some ideas for quarantine-inspired creativity—a few tools I’ve adopted for surviving in (relative) isolation the last two years.
Declutter.
Nothing is more cathartic to the creative process than making space. By clearing out your physical space, you simultaneously cleanse the mind… and potentially unveil your next project. Rather than serve as a welcoming host for dust and mold, I decided to unearth the family archives and make a scrapbook. Photos and memorabilia once hidden away in boxes now provide me with a tactile form of connection to my past.
Redecorate.
No need to go to the store or shop online. Consider treasure hunting among your giveaway pile. Note that many donation centers are closed, so if you’re in the mood for a good sloughing-off-of-worldy-goods, give new purpose to what’s on-hand. If you have access to the great outdoors, take inspiration from nature. These branches were found on the side of the road within a block of my house.
Do tricks.
If you can’t do circus with your friends, do circus with your pets! (It’s not exploitation if they love performing, right?)
Mend things.
My aunt, a talented potter, shipped me a large box of her works. The “fragile” stickers may as well have been “kick me” signs. When the initial mortification subsided, I found peace in the Japanese art of Kintsugi: the idea that history (the good, the bad, and the ugly) is important to acknowledge; flaws can be beautiful; scars can be golden.
Love the ones you’re with.
My illness has made me dependent on people I otherwise may never have met, and I’m grateful for these new relationships and the different perspectives they bring. For friends you can no longer visit physically, rejuvenate the lost art of letter writing. If you’re quarantined with someone else, find new ways of strengthening connections with them. (Maybe now’s the perfect time for those tough conversations you’ve been putting off?)
Play chef.
Remember that grocery store workers and delivery drivers are on the front lines; the more you can do to limit both their and your exposure, the better. So make inventive use of the things that have been languishing in the pantry. Get a sourdough starter from a (CDC-guideline-adhering) neighbor. Try a risky new combination (though nothing so risky as botulism). The worst failed recipes will make for comic relief later, but you might just discover your new favorite dish—with bonus time to perfect it for that potluck after restrictions are lifted.
Establish a self-care routine.
Take advantage of the downtime to counter the mad levels of anxiety in the world. This looks different for everyone: meditation, reading, nature walks, journaling, staging an adaptation of Les Mis… for your pets… with puppets. Find a groove that’s simple enough to maintain even when life returns to normal.
Daydream.
Visualizing your routine is scientifically proven to build both muscle and coordination. That’s right—I just gave you permission to do aerial conditioning from the comfort of your papasan and feel pretty darn good about it. (Okay, when that gets old, you should check out the Circus Project’s virtual classes.)
Let us know how you’re using creativity to counter the chaos.
In solitary solidarity,
Jenn Cohen
Circus Project founder
jenncohen@thecircusproject.org
Transcription and levity support by Cedra Wood and Adrienne White