Be Inspired

BY CHRISTIN DAUBERT

COMMUNITY HARDER. Clearly, the pandemic made pretty much everything harder. But for today, I’m just talking about this weird time we are in of trying to create our communities all over again. I’m not going to spend time reflecting on all the ways we tried to stay connected. (I honestly thought Zoom + wine + six friends all talking at once would be fun.) What I learned is that there is something about being able to look into your friend’s eyes when they are telling you about their hard day or being in a room of creative souls excited to make some art or simply chatting with the stranger next to you.

I’ve always considered myself an introvert. And not in the “I want people to think I’m mysterious so I’ll call myself an introvert” kind of way. I generally identify with the memes of people who prefer animals to humans, and get hungover from extensive social interactions. So naturally, part of me enjoyed the quiet time and the slowness of no socialization. But the caveat a lot of people misunderstand about introverts is that not all interactions drain us. And I found myself missing the connection to other creatives and the community that abruptly stopped in March of 2020.

I made it through the thick of the pandemic unscathed. I know how fortunate this makes me. I also know, thanks to a great therapist, that I am someone who needs connection and a creative community. Both can be true—I can be fortunate and still have struggled. I know I’m not alone, which is why I’m writing about it. So many of us are rekindling, or possibly rebuilding, our community after two years of squidgy weirdness.

As a former military spouse, a connection felt almost instant when you met someone like you. It’s different now to randomly meet someone and grow a friendship from scratch, not sure what (if any) common ground you’ll have. Of course, I could be thinking entirely too hard about this (welcome to my world), and some of you reading might think talking to strangers is easy peasy. I envy you.

I’m consciously making an effort to make friends. I feel that while it is a little weird to make friends as a grown-up, it is also thrilling to be the architect of a community you create. A new friend of mine is also a creative soul who also has a deep and true appreciation for the beauty of ordinary things. Anyone can appreciate things with apparent value or mass appeal. But I love when someone gets excited over an unusual lamp, or interesting candlestick holders. Over cocktails I talked about these funky old canisters I picked up at the Coalition. When I grab the one I’ve filled with flour, I think of the cute home baker that owned them before me, and how she made her family cakes and breads decades before they crossed my path. Every time I unscrew the lid I smile so big and feel gratitude for an old flour canister. Can you see now why I was apprehensive about making new friends?

My apprehension extends to the abstract art night I host with my friend Grace (that’s right, I’ve got another friend). Our Night with the Makers came back after a two-year hiatus at the end of May, and by the time you’re reading this, we will have had another one. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t slightly concerned that I forgot how to do art in public. Fortunately, my day job involves singing and reading in front of babies and toddlers for story time, so I’m OK with a crowd. My biggest fear was having a community of creatives together again, and the group not enjoying what we were offering. I pleasantly discovered that everyone had a great time and so did I. Teaching little bits and pieces about abstract art left me feeling fulfilled, just like talking about my vintage flour canisters. I know it is a risk to make new friends, and put yourself out into the world, but it always turns out to be worth it in the end. I’ve learned that connecting with other creatives is mandatory for my well-being. And how lucky are we to live in a community that values and appreciates art and those who make it?

Want to take part in our next Night with the Makers? Look for tickets on ticketmesandhills.com.

Share your creativity on Instagram: Hashtag #SandandPineMag. Also, go to @consciouslychristin to find Christin's work.

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