Like everyone else, dear Kirstie, I'm really moved by this. Brave. And always looking for the healing way through. I love what you say about art and how it holds us. The individual piece, but also the way that what we create links in magical collaborations whether we're aware of it or not. Your butterflies on the wall in some kind of conversation with John Brock's paintings, and the depths of that not immediately obvious, but must have been felt on some level by your in-laws as they placed the paintings. And that's such an important question - why didn't I see? Then you did see. The slow shifting that becomes readiness. Together. As in your lovely poem. And the magical making of a person that is ancestry - whether direct or indirect whakapapa. In the middle of the night I woke up thinking of your substack title - The History of Kindness. Your own history - the making of you, like all of us, a complex weaving involving so many more than the sad broken men who get their names in the court news. All those other kind ones. And there must have been so many, especially the ones who held on to their tenderness despite whatever brutalising realities were around them. How much do they deserve honouring and claiming with love! How is someone like you not made with vast numbers of compassionate forbears. One thing I find hopeful is the realisation that kindness is seldom newsworthy. People bewail this lack of good news, but I love it. Goodness should not be news. The defiling of innocence and safety should be. Family violence, child abuse continues for many reasons, but in part it's the closed doors, the silences. Thank you for refusing to leave the door closed dear, kind Kirstie.
Dear Steve, thank you so much. I’m not the best teacher of culture - but I’m definitely a student; and I’m a student of compassion too. In the latter, I’m strongly influenced by Anne Lamott’s startling book on the subject of rediscovering mercy, and also her book ‘Stitches,’ about grief.
Thank you so much, Kirstie. Yours is the most courageous and beautiful generosity. To be able to see, with you, the burnt ground and the paths leading through and beyond -
Dear Liz, I'm so inspired by your own art practice, those visits to your studio in some way sparking a need in me to paint. I appreciate your response. I always feel a bit afraid when I comment on others' posts, and in turn I'm grateful for the flow of both courage and kindness that arrives with a comment! Thank you.
And I felt so supported by your visits to my studio and now so inspired by your paintings especially with letting the rain fall and transform your marks xx
Thank you so much Harneek. As one who's become a little obsessed with balance on the page, it's such a relief to me to read your comment and know that this (difficult to write) piece feels like a hug. I admire the emotional honesty in your own Substack, so thank you too for your writing and for giving me a little boost of courage. Gratitude too for your restack!
Like everyone else, dear Kirstie, I'm really moved by this. Brave. And always looking for the healing way through. I love what you say about art and how it holds us. The individual piece, but also the way that what we create links in magical collaborations whether we're aware of it or not. Your butterflies on the wall in some kind of conversation with John Brock's paintings, and the depths of that not immediately obvious, but must have been felt on some level by your in-laws as they placed the paintings. And that's such an important question - why didn't I see? Then you did see. The slow shifting that becomes readiness. Together. As in your lovely poem. And the magical making of a person that is ancestry - whether direct or indirect whakapapa. In the middle of the night I woke up thinking of your substack title - The History of Kindness. Your own history - the making of you, like all of us, a complex weaving involving so many more than the sad broken men who get their names in the court news. All those other kind ones. And there must have been so many, especially the ones who held on to their tenderness despite whatever brutalising realities were around them. How much do they deserve honouring and claiming with love! How is someone like you not made with vast numbers of compassionate forbears. One thing I find hopeful is the realisation that kindness is seldom newsworthy. People bewail this lack of good news, but I love it. Goodness should not be news. The defiling of innocence and safety should be. Family violence, child abuse continues for many reasons, but in part it's the closed doors, the silences. Thank you for refusing to leave the door closed dear, kind Kirstie.
This is so generous and compassionate.
On top of that I’m being educated more about a different culture on the other side of the world. Thank you!
Dear Steve, thank you so much. I’m not the best teacher of culture - but I’m definitely a student; and I’m a student of compassion too. In the latter, I’m strongly influenced by Anne Lamott’s startling book on the subject of rediscovering mercy, and also her book ‘Stitches,’ about grief.
Thank you so much, Kirstie. Yours is the most courageous and beautiful generosity. To be able to see, with you, the burnt ground and the paths leading through and beyond -
Dear Lissa, thank you so much. Your generosity in conversation and poetry inspires my own. Aroha.
Sending big love to you Kirstie, thank you for sharing such beautiful words and paintings, so moved ❤️❤️❤️
Dear Liz, I'm so inspired by your own art practice, those visits to your studio in some way sparking a need in me to paint. I appreciate your response. I always feel a bit afraid when I comment on others' posts, and in turn I'm grateful for the flow of both courage and kindness that arrives with a comment! Thank you.
And I felt so supported by your visits to my studio and now so inspired by your paintings especially with letting the rain fall and transform your marks xx
Yes! Highly recommend painting in the rain 💛.
So beautiful Kirstie, loved it. Your words felt like a hug to me 💚
Thank you so much Harneek. As one who's become a little obsessed with balance on the page, it's such a relief to me to read your comment and know that this (difficult to write) piece feels like a hug. I admire the emotional honesty in your own Substack, so thank you too for your writing and for giving me a little boost of courage. Gratitude too for your restack!