December's Theme is PAIN

Our global theme for December is PAIN. It was chosen by our Lviv chapter and illustrated by Marta Koshulinska.

Ouch! That hurts. Pain is a warning. And a lesson. It teaches us what we should avoid. And just how much we can bear.

There’s the pleasures of sadomasochism. The anguish of emotional trauma or physical abuse. The seemingly endless barrage of vitriol in the comments. The grief of losing a loved one. The immense destruction and psychological toll caused by so many geopolitical conflicts happening around the world.

Our Lviv chapter in Ukraine knows the pain of war. As they wrote when they chose this month’s theme, “Our collective pain is now close to unbearable. They say what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. We hope whoever said that is right.”

Muscles grow stronger after exercise tears the tiny fibers of muscle cells and the body repairs those damaged fibers. We know that physical wounds can heal with time and proper care. But we often ignore the fact that emotional pain can too.

If you need a little relief from whatever pain you’re carrying, talk to someone, make something, or help someone else in need.

Pain can point the way to growth.

---

INSPIRATION FROM OUR COMMUNITY:

Each month, we ask the readers of our Weekly Highlights newsletter to submit creative work inspired by our global theme.

Here are December’s featured submissions.

Papercut piece by Laura Huber, Hamburg, Germany

I made this papercut, when I was going through a rough patch. It reminds me that even though it might be painful in the moment, it will pass and better times will come again.

See more of Laura’s papercut work on instagram.

Alfred Nobel by Alena Aichlmanova, Czech Republic, Prague

I would like to share my painting of Alfred Nobel. Not many people know about his life and the origin of the Nobel´s prize, and I do find it fascinating. He’s a valid example of how to be aware what pain we can cause to others, even unintentionally, and how to deal with it.

Realistic by Michele Rule, Kelowna, BC, Canada

I live with chronic illness and I’m also a poet. So I thought this poem would be a good thing to share. I hope it helps people understand a bit what my life, and the life of many others, is like.

I’m making summer plans.
Be realistic, he says.
I know that.
Body doesn’t play well.
Fatigue and Pain want
to come on every ride.
Nausea, the newest guest.
But maybe if …
I bargain with the Body.
Days of rest before and after.
Extra meds.
Lots of breaks.
I sigh.
Close the travel site.
Order in.

Blue Lady by Brukie Gashaw, Washington, D.C.

The happiest people tend to be the saddest, we don’t freely show our pain. This painting and poem is a reflection of how I view my pain. My painting, Lady Blue, is me as an iceberg, never fully revealing oneself.

“I’m an iceberg
Most of me is in the dark
Yes you see my light
But that’s just the tip”

An illustration by Rhea Zaveri, Mumbai

People experience pain differently - this is for the ones that smile through their pain with their incredible stoicism.

A poem by Ioana Lungu, Barcelona, Spain

The word PAIN has been a co-theme of this year for me. When I saw you announced it for December, I felt called to submit.

Pain says let’s play Twister
my rules
and it seemed like No
was the only word I couldn’t articulate
so I just said Now instead
Yes Pain said
Now is the best time for you
right hand on red
chronic aches start in my belly like a fire
the burning of the Amazonian forest
it’s not easy to witness the death of all those parts of yourself
you took for granted
a foundation never to be rebuilt
a silenced scream
Pain says there’s no time for prayer
both hands on blue
blue was my savior color
but rescue is buried under ruins
your identity Pain says
is not yours to keep but it belongs to the world there’s an I but
you must shed it
unbecoming
remember your true nature
Pain says your heart is bright
and I learn tenderness
everything in this world is hurting
not as the essence
but as an invitation
to touch everything softly
I will never forget my fragility
but rather I’d keep it as an offering
for whoever doubts survival is possible
Pain says lie down
relax now
I say Yes
and with a big sigh
everything makes space
for Love again

Fictional Dreamer by Lauralee Sheehan & Jo Ryder, Toronto, Canada

Music has always been a way to turn something painful into something beautiful. I stopped writing for many years and actually never knew if I would write music again after a series of challenges and losses in life until I started a project with long time friend Owen. We wrote this song, a 70s film-esque vibe, reflecting on our digital culture and how lonely and isolating it can be. We’re all looking for connection in a super-connected world but many of us still feel like lonely hunters. Jo Ryder started writing this song in 2021 as an homage to people we’ve lost in our lives, as well as people we’re still searching for.

Listen to Fictional Dreamer now.

Pain in the World by Francesca Aniballi, Italy

It is a reflection on pain. I think it is important not to feel isolated in these times of war.

Pain has its own rhythm.
It is a contraction and an extension, a gathering in and a stretching out to the limits of what is bearable.
It is like being pregnant with the unknown, sometimes the shapeless, inchoate, formless abyss of meaninglessness and brutality.

You can read the rest of Pain in the World on Francesca’s blog.

Animal Misfits by Eddie Fieg, Chicago, Illinois

Life as a weirdo nerd can be painful and lonely. But it can also be rich and fulfilling, too! So wear your eccentric individualism with pride: whether you’re the black sheep of the family, an introverted lone wolf, or just one odd duck.

You can buy these Animal Misfits buttons on Eddie’s site.

Clumsy Bones by Mireia Prats Llivina, Edinburgh, Scotland, UK

I want to share a non-fiction piece about my chronic clumsiness, which obviously brings on a lot of pain as a consequence, but also wonderful stories!

I have always been clumsy.
Bumping into walls? Check. Tripping over my shoelaces? Check. Burning my leg by spilling boiling water on it and ending up in the hospital? Unfortunately, check.
Sometimes I feel like objects should have a sensor and if I come too close, quickly take a step back. Or beep. Cars can do that. Why tables can’t? It seems unfair.
Lots of bruises have always decorated my legs. They come in all sorts of sizes and shades of blue. It’s like body paint, but free!

You can read the rest of Clumsy Bones on Mireia’s blog.

Madwoman by Shady Kimzey, North Carolina

“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” ― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

A poem by Olena Mostovyak, Auckland, New Zealand

Words, that came out the last time I had a grieve at home.

It hurts so much
and I want to wonder
where are all the conspiracies
I planned, risked for, prioritized
And promised myself to believe
I hear a gong

but can’t afford to be a bully
I don’t want to fight again
against who I want to be
Let me draw her the room
she can grow, please
I know how to love people
a little better now
Please, give me the time
let us sink into arms
we will want to carry
into Sunday morning pancake weather
Until we can ask
the distance to hold us together
The carousel is making me nauseous
and I just want to trust myself
Where do I jump off to gather my senses and loved ones?

A Blackout Poem by Cary Joice, Denver, Colorado

I really leaned into Blackout Poetry when I was experience a very painful time in my life. Blackout Poetry is all about using what already exists on a page, taking what is there, and creating something new. It was a great parallel for the season I was going through and really helped me find my voice.

In a Time of Need by Mary Kristen Davis, South Carolina

I have had a close, ever-present relationship with pain since receiving a serious injury a few years ago. The worst pain, though, is the way people react to the pain of others. That is what I tried to explore in my short (true) story.

Squash or brussel sprouts?
The produce section has just been watered, making the refrigerated compartments even colder than usual. The frost bites into my hips, already aching from nine hours of being upright. Nine hours in the constant grasp of gravity’s tugging, squeezing, tearing claws. At least, that’s how my low lumbar has perceived weight lately. I have been aware of its ever-looming presence since I took some ill-prescribed muscle relaxers in June. Now a couple of months into the school year, I’m at least happy that at Walmart I don’t have to fake a smile anymore.
Just a few more items and then I can go home and lay down.
Each step feels like it’s dragging a ball and chain…

You can read the rest of Mary’s story in this doc.

An exhibit curated by Sara Tang, Pittsburgh, PA

I’m the Digital Content Curator of an art exhibition that offers diverse perspectives on the experiences of disabled artists, mothers, parents & caregivers, highlighting how deafness & disability shape the experience of caregiving, parenting & motherhood, while challenging assumptions & stereotypes.

You can explore the Anthropology of Motherhood exhibit on their site.

About Loss by Amber Stanley, North Carolina

*This is a video of me reading an essay I wrote, “About Loss,” which is on grief. Grief is the reaction we experience to significant loss(es), and is, quite literally, painful. *

You can listen to Amber read her essay on YouTube.

You can also read more of Amber’s essays on her site.

A talk by Megan Morgan, Sacramento, California

This is a video of a talk I did recently where I shared that while most of us are afraid of death, what I think we’re actually more afraid of is pain. In this 17 minute talk as part of the BOLD Speaker Series, I share three life altering events which gave me radically new perspectives on life, death and pain.

You can watch Megan’s talk on Vimeo.