After the Rain

Sunbeams, creative community, and sharing the weather

Life at Large

It finally happened – the sun came out!

Over the last two weeks I have felt it on my face, walked along the ocean, and watched new lambs frolicking beside their mothers in lush, impossibly green grass.

Hallelujah.

To say I’ve been making the most of it would be an understatement. I’ve been meeting friends, both new and old, and taking day trips to Espinho, Braga, and Guimarães. It’s as though I’ve crammed six months worth of socializing into two weeks. I suppose a bit of sunshine can have that effect.

Speaking of sunshine, for about an hour each afternoon, it streams through the balcony window, bathing my yoga mat in a glorious sunbeam. I feel no shame in admitting that I’ve taken more than one afternoon nap there this week, channeling my inner cat.

I may take another sunbeam nap today.

Have I mentioned how particularly welcome spring feels this year?

Projects and Events

Brighter days have also spurred me on with my projects, and Dad and I are steadily chewing through chapter revisions on his story. Even though I’ve been out of the house more than I have in months and spending fewer hours in front of the laptop, I’m more productive when I do sit down to work. I find that both encouraging and motivating.

Onward!

One of the activities that drew me out of the house over the last two weeks was a workshop titled “You Are An Artist #6 - Introduce Yourself”, facilitated by João Pedro Fernandes.

It was part of a series of short workshops designed to explore different forms of art and creativity. This particular session was help in a workspace that houses the private library of two artists.

The intention of the workshop was to create a poem on the theme of “Introduce Yourself” using book titles.

Now, I am no poet. Most of the books were in Portuguese, and the more poetic the title, the less chance I had of translating it (my grasp of Portuguese is still firmly rooted in the present tense and, occasionally, the near future when I’m being fancy). So I had no expectation of producing a brilliant poem.

Still, I so enjoyed browsing through the books – noticing which ones were grouped together on a shelf, the range of subjects represented, and the colours, sizes, and physical qualities of the books themselves. By the time we were called back to assemble our poems, I had almost forgotten that was the point of the exercise.

There were a few accomplished poets in the small group of participants, and they created moving, rhythmic pieces that blew my mind.

I did no such thing. And yet, creating a perfect poem wasn’t necessary to leave the workshop feeling ready to try other new, creative things.

Here is my poem, translated:

Again – not a poet, but absolutely recommend the activity if you want to stretch your creative muscle in a new way.

Writing

I know I go on about how much I appreciate the writing community here in Porto, and this week will be no different.

Although writing is a solitary pursuit, there is much to learn from one another, support to offer and receive, and successes to celebrate together.

A few years ago, when I was in the final stages of editing my memoir, Resilience in the Rubble: A True Tale of Aid and Survival in Kashmir, I met another indie author, DC Speura, who was nearing publication of his debut historical novel, Veni Vidi Exitus.

We connected through an online group of indie authors based in Portugal. The group’s host – a prolific author herself – was incredibly generous in sharing what she had learned along her own publishing journey.

DC and I were taking a slightly different approaches with our books, and so we continued our conversations outside the group to compare notes. Although we live in different regions of Portugal, we’ve stayed in touch ever since. Last week, when he and his wife were in Porto, we met at an aptly named café to exchange books and talk about writing – and community. It was an energizing conversation.

Exchanging books in a café called “Story”? Seems fitting!

One thing was clear: genre doesn’t matter. I write non-fiction; DC writes historical fiction. We can still learn from each other and offer encouragement along the way.

When we met again last week – two years after we were both preparing to publish our first books – we found ourselves in a similar position: each getting ready to release our second books. We’ve both learned a great deal in the meantime, and once again, we have the opportunity to share that learning with each other.

In a similar vein, I met another writer friend last week. Daniella and I are part of the same in-person writing community in Porto, and we had recently finished reading each other’s books – again, in wildly different genres. We met to discuss them in person.

Daniella’s book, Beyond Money: Regaining Sovereignty, Rediscovering Humanity examines inconsistencies and gaps in the ways we think about and experience the economy, wealth, and our contributions to society. I found it thought-provoking, and I deeply valued the opportunity to sit with her and ask questions about what I had read –another aspect I love so much about being part of a writing community filled with perspectives, ideas, and areas of expertise to different from my own.

An added bonus? I got to walk along the ocean on a sunny morning to meet her.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one to walk this stretch of beach between Granja and Espinho. Talk about footprints in the sand!

Photography

More time out of the house means more photos, so here are some random images from the last two weeks.

Descriptions going clockwise from top left (click on the images to see them displayed properly):

• Unexpected clocktower in a hostel in Porto

• Motorcycle parked in front of street art in Porto

• Sunset through a steamed up train window

• View of Porto through the bars of the old city jail (now the Museum of Photography)

• Three cute houses in Braga

Final Thoughts

I recognize that many of my Canadian friends are still a few months away from “lambs frolicking in impossibly green grass” – I promise I don’t mean to provoke. But after spending so much of this year narrating damp, cold, grumpiness, I feel the need to be just as vocal about this sudden surge of warmth and energy. If I’m going to tell the truth about the grey days, it seems only fair to tell the truth about the bright ones, too.

Yet, sometimes I hesitate.

When life feels heavy, I wonder how much it too much to share. When life feels grand, I wonder whether saying so may seem like boasting – or worse, minimizing the realities others are living with.

So I’m curious, when you share your experience of life, do you hesitate to talk about either the hardest parts or the best parts? Why do you think that is? Humility? Fear of being misunderstood or judged? Something else entirely?

I’d love to hear from you.

Até a próxima!

Kathy