He can cry. She can run the world. Eric Nine

Eastside Trail

I think a lot abut the messages I take in. The messages I see. The messages I hear. The messages I breathe. All of it makes a difference at an elemental level. Messages matter. The messages we consume matter. I don’t think I am alone in this. We all take a lot in. All Eastside Beltline traffic sees, hears, and breathes the important message of this mural. All children and parents. All runners and walkers and skateboarders and bikers. All residents and visitors. In brilliant color, Eric Nine reminds us all of our power to feel and lead, and we are changed. What we tell ourselves changes. What we tell others changes. The world changes.

This mural, and really all the art on the Beltline, reminds me of the importance of accessible art. Art that we can see and experience regularly, as a part of the natural flow of our lives. Art without barriers to appreciation or participation. Art that is right in front of us begging us to pay attention to what a beautiful and hard world we live in. Art that wraps all of us, not just a few select few, in its arms and connects us as people and community and world.

A Note on my Atlanta Beltline Writing Project

I am practicing paying attention. I am practicing noticing beauty. I am practicing getting in touch with my artist self. I am practicing connecting with the outdoors. I am practicing my inner Mary Oliver. I live in Atlanta, “the city in a forest.” I live on the Atlanta Beltline, an interurban trail that graces the city. The Beltline is part arboretum, part art gallery, part park. It connects shops and restaurants and homes with people of all descriptions. I walk on the Beltline 4 or 5 times a week. I have spent the last year appreciating all that it is. I have personally photographed the images I will share. My hope is to write about it — its art, trees, landmarks, etc.— for the next few weeks as spring unfolds. I want to soak it all in.