It’s All Connected

I’d like to figure out a way to branch this sense of connectedness, of, “it is all connected” to the issues of poverty and homelessness.  How do we all move about the world and see the individual on our streets-wrapped in a warn blanket-as ourselves or as our neighbor at least?  What is it about our society that keeps us separate? keeps us fearful? keeps us making excuses about why some are “deserving” of help and some are not?  I think the connection is severed between individuals because it is severed within us as individuals.

How do we reconnect with one another, our environment, our community? We have to see ourselves in everything and see everything within ourselves-not in a self-absorbed way, but an open-eyed and honest sort of way.

How do we do this? Each of us has to figure that out for ourselves.  I choose to put myself in a position where I am confronted with lives seemingly very different from my own, but, through constant contact and deeper communication, I have the opportunity to realize some essential similarities that bind us more than separate us.

I coordinate an open art studio, but  I wasn’t always the coordinator.  Instead, I was an individual looking for a sense of community, a path that widened as I moved through it, and work that simply kept me housed and fed.  I moved to Albuquerque to realize these “dreams” and took the first, and quite possibly the lowest paying, job in Albuquerque.  I was a waitress in a restaurant where the main draw was the $4.95 buffet of Chinese and Mexican food-meaning, of course, very little on tips.  But, I spent much time reading, chatting with customers, pushing a broom and getting through some much desired books such as Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee. I sometimes took home $20.00 for the day, but, I got free breakfast and lunch-so food wasn’t an issue. 

Of course, I had a choice in this path, as I already had an education and a family who would catch me if I fell-so I am not painting myself as a martyr or anything.  Really, I did this so I could breathe, stretch myself into positions that my limited experience and my home town expectations (including my own) hadn’t afforded. 

When I first arrived in Albuquerque, I stayed in the home of a friend, stored my stuff in their basement (later losing most of it from a flood), paid minimal rent and walked the two blocks to work every day.

I did all this so I could spend more days with a community of artists.  Folks who, although they may or may not have had the finances, opportunities, or certain choices that were afforded to me or many of whom may have been “doubling up,” living in a shelter, motel, car or the streets due to poverty and life circumstances- all of us decided to be in this place to make art. 

I was not a trained artist and was not used to exposing myself in such a vulnerable way.  There were others at the studio, who may or may not have had the training, but they were art making geniuses.  I sat alone at first, then gradually moved my way to the main table-joining the others in collage and found object art. 

I had a place to stay and a meal to count on-but I felt vulnerable in this space.  I hid my art for the first few weeks, but slowly and shyly allowed others to witness what I created.  They allowed me to be myself with them and in turn, they would be themselves with me.  I eventually put work in shows and joined the community in celebrating an opening reception or a fellow artist’s newest work.

I have stuck around for over eleven years because my life had been changed and because I knew I was going to continue having the opportunity to see and be seen by others whose worlds I may never have entered.

When we are thrown into the un-known, we are forced to find what is real and what is false.  We see ourselves more clearly when we are faced with some aspect of our humanity that we have not recognized or accepted.  Maybe that is why some do not recognize the other human soul walking down the street with a tattered blanket-they are just not ready or willing to see themselves?

Mindy Grossberg