Discomfort

As with many of my entries, I have been letting this one steep for a while. I suppose I've been thinking of it for years, but the theme became much more salient when I visited ArtPrize in Grand Rapids a few weeks ago.

The theme at the Grand Rapids Art Museum was discomfort. From that, I'm sure you will not be surprised to hear that much of the art displayed was modern. One installation consisted entirely of hot glue applied to the windows to make them look broken. Another consisted of masks that represented the different faces presented to the world, entitled I Am Not Who You Think I Am. Some of these resonated with me automatically. In the Intersections room, which ended up winning ArtPrize, I wanted to snuggle up on the floor and meditate on the lines and shadows. Others, though, I rushed past. Often, the people I was with expressed dislike or lack of understanding for a piece, sometimes with the implication that it wasn't really art. At one point, one of them took a picture of a mask with its tongue sticking out because it was "cute" - except that if I recall correctly, the caption said that it reflected the artist's feelings about the hegemony of English in the US. 

So I rushed past at the time. But I still think about those experiences. To me, this is art. Some art is beautiful. Some is not. But art is intended to make us reflect, and sometimes that requires discomfort.

I will not argue that all discomfort is good. That was a lesson I learned when I started yoga. My instructors would offer me blankets or bolsters when I thought I didn't need them. One would even say, "Let me spoil you." I think I had mostly viewed self care as a luxury or burden before that, not as a necessity. I had decided that routine discomfort was something to be lived with. I no longer believe that. For those reading who suffer from chronic pain or daily illness, my heart goes out to you.

But I do believe that often we grow through discomfort. The last five years have involved a lot of pain. Even recently, I went through a period where I had daily extreme nausea that doctors couldn't really explain or treat. The first day that I didn't have it, I appreciated eating and nutrition and what my body could do for me in a whole new perspective.

So I hope that perhaps what I write will be beautiful for you sometimes, but that my pain, my discomfort will come through. I hope that you may grow and stretch as you read as I have when I wrote.