Tag Archives: Hollis Sigler

Life is a Mystery

It’s amazing how life can change like the wind. Those facing challenges whether it be health, or some other life-altering event learn quickly that savoring the moment is critical because the next moment may not be as serene. I’ve been looking at how artists share their journey of health and healing for the past ten years and every time I come across a new artist I’m increasingly inspired to share their stories of hope, resilience, and narrative.

The first artist who peaked my interest at the beginning of my journey was Hollis Sigler. Sigler was a painter who after being diagnosed with breast cancer began creating work depicting her journey. Unfortunately Sigler died in 2001 but she left us with Hollis Sigler’s Breast Cancer Journal. She is honest in her depiction of living with breast cancer.   She knows the cancer story from two sides, the caregiver and the patient. Hollis’ mother died of breast cancer. In her painting Some Days You Feel So Alive shares a moment in time when she’s feeling great. She’s experience a personal vibrancy evidenced by the colors in her work.

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I couple this with Anya Silver’s Leaving the Hospital. Silver also a breast cancer survivor is living with metastatic disease. Her self-reflection is inspiring and honest. I was struck by words in the poem like undimmed and withered, very visual terms.

Leaving the Hospital

Anya Silver

As the doors glide shut behind me,

the world flares back into being—

I exist again, recover myself,

sunlight undimmed by dark panes,

the heat on my arms the earth’s breath.

The wind tongues me to my feet

like a doe licking clean her newborn fawn.

At my back, days measured by vital signs,

my mouth opened and arm extended,

the nighttime cries of a man withered

child-size by cancer, and the bells

of emptied IVs tolling through hallways.

Before me, life—mysterious, ordinary—

holding off pain with its muscular wings.

As I step to the curb, an orange moth

dives into the basket of roses

that lately stood on my sickroom table,

and the petals yield to its persistent

nudge, opening manifold and golden.

Poem copyright ©2011 by Anya Silver, whose most recent book of poetry is The Ninety-Third Name of God, Louisiana State University Press, 2010. Poem reprinted from the New Ohio Review, No. 9, Spring, 2011, by permission of Anya Silver and the publisher.

As I continue searching for creative narratives, I’m acutely aware of the stories I hear daily about challenging episodes in the lives of friends and family. If you’re watching the news today you know that Hurricane Maria is ravaging Puerto Rico and Mexico is suffering the aftermath of a 7.1 earthquake. What was status quo yesterday has been turned upside down. Those whose lives were “normal” are now uncertain.

So I am learning that what I know today is only for today. I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring, but I do know I have to keep telling my story. In addition, I’m compelled to keep telling the story of others because all our voices create a human quilt providing comfort, care, and showing that we all have lives worthy of a story.

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