On Art & Catharsis

a poem that took off on TikTok is the softness i crave these day

Writing has always been my way through. When I was young, I had a journal on my bedside table. I’d write in it every night. Whenever I had “strong feelings,” my mom would encourage me to put my thoughts down on those little pages. “Write it out.”

At nineteen, I would write poems and prose on my Tumblr, asking questions I was afraid to ask out loud. Knee deep in change and in the depths of my sadness, after hours of finding the right collection of words, I often wondered if I’d even be able to write with such fervor if I was really, truly happy. Could I write so voraciously if I was in a good place?

Now I’m thirty-three and writing for my newsletter. Not much has changed at all. Except, I know now that, yes… I will still write voraciously. It’s just that pain transmutes into different forms through time. It’s less about heartbreak and more about grieving change and the effervescence of what it means to be alive. Now it’s less loud, but it’s got more bass to it.

My writing is my catharsis. I release the pain, the “strong feelings,” into something else.

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catharsis, the purification or purgation of the emotions, primarily through art.

Sometimes I think of the great artists and wonder if their masterpieces were made from catharsis too.

Was Van Gogh’s Starry Night made to cleanse his weariness or mania? Or was it just divine inspiration pouring out of his hands? Just like the scene from Doctor Who, what would be his reaction to seeing us find such beauty and joy from this extension of his pain? Would it feel worth it?

When Taylor Swift put ink to page for “All Too Well,” did it come from a need to purge it all? Was it her therapy, or something entirely else? How does it feel to hear millions of us screaming those words back at her, cathartically singing through our own pain through the words she wrote while in the depths of her own?

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In Jennae Cecilia’s poem “I Met My Younger Self For Coffee” - her past and present self have a frank yet cathartic conversation at a cafe that reveals her growth, as well as the heady self-actualization that happens through age and time. There she is, in the coffee shop, showing up as the person her younger self needed at the time. 

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Now millions of others have written their versions of the poem… and some had me crying like a baby. (But, what else is new?!) All these beautiful souls, vulnerable, and open, sharing their stories, their growth, their regrets. Healing, reflection, all the good stuff. Catharsis.

(…. Although, I’ll admit… I also really, really love the ones that kept it goofy with things like “I met my past self for coffee, she asked if we finally married Zac Efron.”)

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The creation of art - whether it’s through the brush of paint, the lyrics of a song, or the recreation of a poetry prompt - feels like a deep sigh. The kind of deep release that happens after you’ve had a good cry in the shower and fall into a deep sleep.

By making something out of the weariness, the pain, and the “big feelings,” we gift ourselves precious time to sit with the hard feelings, acknowledge them, breathe through them, and see ourselves through them. We can more deeply understand who we are.

And(this is what absolutely crushes me about this whole thing!)… by creating art out of the muck of those “big feelings” and having the guts to share it, in turn, we allow others who view it, to be seen too. We gift others that relief as well.

The making of art is cathartic… and the deep understanding and appreciation of art is too.

And, on that note, I figured I’d take part in this cathartic trend. Here’s my conversation with my younger self…