This piece was first published on The Weekly Service website, where Rose is an artist in residence.
Let’s have a cup of tea together. Go on, put the kettle on.
Have you got your tea now?
I’m drinking chamomile. What’s yours?
I joke with friends who know me very well that words are not my native language.
My feelings have always felt too big for words, and my mind too fast for my mouth.
I love the shapes and sounds of words, and I love playing with them written down when there is no time pressure, but I trip over them when I try to make them come out my mouth, unless I concentrate with a lot of effort.
When I am in the same room as a person, it is easier. I can read their energy. I can show them in other ways that I understand, that I hear them and feel them.
When they are distressed, and the words are stuck, I can motion to the couch for them to sit.
I can hand them my teddy bear.
I can put the kettle on, make them a soothing chamomile tea, and hold it out to them.
I can light a candle and put lavender oil in an oil burner - a soothing sight to focus on, as well as a soothing sound.
I can place a hand on their shoulder, and it says more than words ever could.
How to connect when we can’t be together
The last two years — living much of the time alone in lockdown — has been a test of determination and creativity for staying connected through physical separation and distance.
I have taken selfies of myself hugging myself, pretending I was hugging a dear friend, and sent it to them, telling them it was me hugging them.
I have recorded the sound of myself making a cup of tea, and sent it to a friend, so they could listen to it as they also made tea, and we could “have tea together”.
I’ve bought beautiful, ethically handmade soy candles lovingly made by one friend, and given the same one to several different friends and family who know each other, and let them know, “every time you light this candle, it is the same one we all have, so you are connecting with all of us at once”.
I’ve recorded myself talking to them as if they are here, and sent them the recording as a voice message, so they can hear all the background noises of my home.
Migrant grief - this week’s service
This week’s service is touching on this theme, from the perspective of connecting across even larger distances. Farah Beani will be talking about migrant grief.
What does it feel like to be separated from loved ones and grieve from a distance?
I look forward to meeting with you online, with our cups of tea, to share time together. I’ll be there, painting as we listen. Book your ticket here.
Love,
(One of the artists in residence this season)