The spider’s web is web of protection around art-making, around play, and around intentional community. It is an offering for spaciousness from social media. This work allows me to take time with my daily practice, with myself, and with my communities that feels easeful in my body. I hope that these offerings will bring you more ease and consideration in your own body. You can find me here, on my IG @meredithannewhite, online booking, and my website. Thank you so much 🤎
I’ve been shining a flashlight into some of the most unloved places in my body so that I may continue to show up as my fullest self with my practice. In that, I’ve carved out space in my practice for energetic offerings to be shared with y’all on a regular basis.
I will be at Community Market this upcoming weekend April 2nd with some absolutely amazing makers. I have open bookings for sliding scale tarot offerings. I also have prints, patches, sweaters, and hugs. Beyond this market, I have opened up space on my weekly schedule for sliding scale tarot appointments.
What’s the table that we meet at?
I listened to a podcast with Gal Beckerman recently. Their work is centered around investigating the elements that sustain communities in real time. The conversation digs into the relationship of community organization, social media, and the momentum that is built and potentially maintained through these efforts.
As people with differing opinions, what is the container we meet each other with?
For me personally, I had to get really clear with myself a few years back. It started as I shifted my lens from work seen by few to work seen by many. I went to school with the idea that I would curate work within a museum space. And when I got there, I learned a lot. I also learned that a lot of it was bullshit.
So I pivoted. And people had opinions about this pivot. I did it anyway. I repositioned myself from the interior of a white-walled museum space to the city around me that I loved so much. I began dismantling the way I valued work that was chosen to be seen for a selective viewer. I allowed my work to be looked at, critiqued, and potentially painted over without “permission” or admission cost. It meant that my carefully-selected walls turned into cement tunnels. It meant my pristine canvas became weather-proof latex on banners with grommets to be hung outside of my favorite dive bar.
It meant that much of my work around “curation” was exchanged for honest discourse. It meant that I was in dialogue with my neighborhood. It allowed me to see where my privilege was coming up. I had to look further into taking ownership of walls because it meant that I was colonizing spaces in the city that were not mine. They will never be mine. So I pivoted again.
I had to get small. There was something really scary about getting small. It meant that I was allowing the unknown parts of myself to bubble up to the surface to be met. I had to ask a lot of people for space. It was hard for me to explain the spaciousness that felt necessary when the right words to explain it would only come through sitting in that spaciousness to begin with. I needed to bring hard topics into my core to be met and reckoned with in order to continue to show up in community in accountable ways.
There’s this quote from Michaela Cole that has stayed with me:
In a world that entices us to browse the lives of others to help us better determine how we feel about ourselves, and to, in turn, feel the need to be constantly visible — for visibility, these days, seems to somehow equate to success — do not be afraid to disappear. From it, from us, for a while. And see what comes to you in the silence.
It brings me to the hermit card in tarot. It’s typically seen with an older figure holding a staff and lantern. The way forward is muddled and unclear. The star within the lantern is the inner knowing that one must uncover to find footing for next steps. That light shines as a compass through the uncharted terrain. It’s the seasonal moment in time that allows us to root inward, for the leaves to fall from the tree, and for stillness to prompt quiet reflection. It’s a necessary part of creating work in my opinion.
I sank into those uncomfortable spaces for a long while. It prompted me to get bigger in my own body. It allowed me to take up more space in my day-to-day rituals. The cultivation of such an inward practice has transformed into much more of an outward one as of late. The star within the Hermit’s lantern becomes so big that it transforms into the “Star” card in the tarot. The inner light beams out into into community.
So I ask again and leave you with this:
What’s the table we meet at?
Maybe the table we meet at is ourselves. We come back to our bodies as a space that we break bread with. We take time to adorn ourselves with candles and flowers and fun placemats that match the seasons. The table we come back to every day is our practice. And the more we are able to sustain practice with ourselves, the better we may become at cultivating patience for topics that are outside of our current bounds of understanding. Let’s continue to show up at the table with ourselves so that we may more fully show up at the table with others.
As always, thank you for taking the time with me and my work whenever you find this.
On April 2nd from 9am-3pm, I will be at my dear friend Didi’s coffee shop, Tic-Tac. I have tarot slots with this market and other adornments for body and home. If you are local to Atlanta, I would love to see you there.
With gratitude,
You can find me here, on my IG @meredithannewhite, through my calendly for energetic offerings, and my website. Thank you so much <3
<3 thank you for sharing this. constantly inspired by you. love love love.