I don’t remember feeling this hopeless, and yet here I am.
I hesitate to call it depressed because depression feels like a vague feeling,
as in when you are not quite sure why, and I KNOW WHY:
I feel hopeless due to the current state of our country.

Laurie Anderson read this (above, and transcribed below) from Rebecca Solnit, who I love.  I took the time to keep backing the video up so I could write it down (my caps), that is how much it effected me.  In case you cannot read my handwriting:

“They want you to feel powerless and surrender and trample everything and you are not going to let them.  You are not giving up, and neither am I.  The fact that we cannot save EVERYTHING does not mean we cannot save ANYTHING and EVERYTHING WE SAVE IS WORTH SAVING.  You may need to grieve or scream or take time off, but you have a role no matter what and right now good friends and good principals are worth gathering-in.  Remember what you love.  Remember what loves you.  Remember in this tide of hate what love is!  A lot of us are going to come under direct attack.  A lot of us are going to resist by building solidarity and sanctuary.  Gather up your resources, the metaphysical ones that are heart and soul and care, as well as the practical ones.  People kept a faith in dictatorships of South America the 70’s and 80’s, in East Bloc countries and the USSR.  There is no alternative to persevering.  That does not require you to feel good.  You can keep walking whether it is sunny or raining.  Take care of yourself and remember the taking care of something else is part of taking care of yourself, because you’re interwoven with the ten trillion things in the single garment of destiny that has been stained and torn, but is still being woven and mended and washed.”

One thing I’ve noticed is that
I don’t want to sketch.

So, being stuck, and mentioning it my
friend Eliska, she said David Hockney’s watercolors inspired her.  I like Hockney, never saw his watercolors, and bought the book.  His messy wonky watercolors liberated my stuck-ness.  Savitri was curled in bed with me, and I grabbed my sketchbook and went to it looser than ever.  Loosy-goosy and so happy to just be hitting the sketchbook with wet color!

Moments later I did the piece below, of one area of the room.
Not worried about perfection, just painting.

Thanks to good friends who care enough to offer a way out;
perhaps this will help you in some way — it is an offering..
This is for my friend who is struggling with grief and death and loss,
SENDING LOVE.