Hi Substack friends. I hope you enjoy this question and answer series, which I hope to post weekly, on Fridays. It means the world to me to have you here, so thank you again for joining me, and thank you for providing these great questions.
Thank you, Laurel, for this question.
I’m curious, do you think the challenges we experience in life shape us more than the victories? Are they more likely to inform our artistic expression? Do they draw us closer to God and Spirit? Would our life be shallow without them? On a lighter note, I’d also love to know which makeup line you use. Your skin is flawless! Thanks for all you do, and for sharing your heart so openly. God bless you!
Dear Laurel,
I’ve read your question(s) every week since I started doing this series and was daunted. It’s so deep that I wanted to make sure I gave it proper time and attention. Then I realized I really wanted to try answering it even though I know I’ll barely scratch the surface of what I’d like to be able to say. I’m not sure I’m enough of a writer to really give this answer the teeth it deserves, but I’ll give it a shot.
I do think that our challenges shape us more than our victories because our challenges are the experiences that most stick with, or to, us. Not to say victories don’t, because they absolutely do, but when we experience trauma, it makes a deeper mark on us. Part of that is about survival — when we’re stressed, our bodies do certain things that make us remember the unfortunate situation so we won’t get in it again. I think of my dog Willie, who came to us as an extremely traumatized animal. I don’t know what his experiences were before I got him, but I know he had some awful ones. He flinches at the slightest sound, is terrified of boots, and gets under the bed upon any commotion in the house. He is better now, he has been and is loved well, but I don’t think he’ll ever fully relax — he remembers too well the danger he was in and the damage he sustained before and he’s still ready for it at all times.
I do think all of our experiences – good and bad — influence our art because our art is about who we are and some stories won’t rest until they’re told. I know that my life is my art and vice versa. What we’re going through can’t help but work its way in if we’re telling the truth.
I have no idea about the God part in a general sense, but I do know from personal experience that sometimes all you have to hold onto is the idea that there is one and that it is a loving, caring entity that, if not all powerful, then it is at least all nurturing and can comfort us and give us somewhere to place our worries and troubles. I believe that’s what prayer is. I believe that’s what meditation is. At least that’s what they are for me. I don’t know anyone who feels worse after they pray or meditate. Often, we’re drawn to do either or both of those things until they become a practice because we’re struggling with something — we need a safe shelter for our hearts so we seek quiet and respite in the arms of the ever mystical higher power. So, that’s a long way of saying yes, I absolutely believe our tough experiences draw us closer to God. Now, there is the converse idea — that horrible things make us angry with God and can make us turn away, but call me an optimist — I think that draws us nearer as well because if we turn away we are angry, and anger is a big energy, and where the big energy goes is where the attention goes. If there is anger, there is still potential for the relationship.
Shallow without pain? Goodness. I can’t answer that. I’ve tried to fantasize about what a life with no negative experience might be like and I can’t do it. Life wouldn’t be life without some suffering and I’m not sure we could do the work here that we’re supposed to do without some — at the end of the day, if we don’t suffer then we don’t change as a result of it, and if we don’t change then we don’t grow. I don’t want to leave here exactly the same person as I was when I came.
Thank you for the compliment on my skin. I have genes to thank for it mostly — my grandmother is soon to turn 95 and she looks like she’s about 72. But — I have always been serious about skincare thanks to her and my mama impressing its importance on me, and now that I’m 49, I employ a full arsenal of products to try to bat back the wrinkles and not so great texture.
I am a big believer in acid products and constant exfoliation — I use a 20% glycolic acid every other night, which makes a huge difference in the texture of my skin. I also get a glycolic chemical peel about every 3 months or so. At bedtime, after the acid pad (you can get them on amazon but be careful if you’re not used to it — you can burn yourself), I use a few Sunday Riley products — the retnoid serum and their good genes lactic acid. I use an eye serum and cream from Beauty Pie. I also use latisse every other night for my lashes. In the morning, I use a glycolic acid toner, goop’s vitamin C serum, then layer vintner’s daughter active treatment essence and active botanical serum on top of that. If I need it, I’ll finish with goop’s glow lotion. If I’m going outside, I put on a 30spf sunscreen instead. I wear very little makeup every day. I try to remember to put on a little concealer and curl my lashes just because, even if I’m not leaving the house. If I do leave the house and need to look put together, I do pretty minimal makeup. I get botox twice a year. And that’s it. I’ve had no work done, and I don’t do fillers. The skincare is a lot, but that’s just part of aging in my opinion.
Thanks again for your great questions, Laurel. I’ve enjoyed answering today though I know I didn’t even begin to cover the depth of such a subject.
Y’all have a great weekend.
Allison
09 July 2021
Thank you Allison for your thoughtful reply, and for the tips and tricks regarding skincare. We could all use a little self care now and again! Blessings, Laurel
That paragraph that begins with “Shallow without pain?” is a doozy. Life literally begins with suffering. Both the Mother’s pains giving birth and the baby’s shock of leaving the nurturing safety of the womb to be pulled into the glare and cold of the world. Like in music, one speed, and one volume gets old in a hurry. Like “Stairway to Heaven” or not. The dynamics that carry it from a slow lilting start to a crashing, frantic, crescendo and back to lilt are what makes the song/recording.
Thank you for all of these. I enjoy reading them and am often touched by the depth of your thoughts and they make me think and consider things I might not have