My Cornucopia Year
Here, a month into 2023, I’ve gotta say that I’m already feeling the spirit of my word for the year.
C O R N U C O P I A
I came to this one pretty quickly in the last session of Mapping Your Path, and I’m excited about it. It came to me smoothly and easily, which is squarely in keeping with the spirit of generosity and abundance that it carries.
A cornucopia is, literally, an animal horn filled with edible goodies grown from the land. It’s a horn of plenty. In a metaphorical way, it is a large quantity and variety of good things. It’s about offering sustenance and generosity, providing nourishment for people who come together to share the abundant bounty. A cornucopia has something for all who join, an openhearted option for all the gathered omnivores.
Inspired by the 2023 Pantone Color of the Year description, here’s my introduction to My Cornucopia Year.
Cornucopia is a source of abundant sustenance. It invites. It encompasses. It blossoms. Cornucopia carries a profusion of offerings in it. They are eclectic and varied to welcome others in with a greathearted plethora of riches.
The cornucopia spirit is one of bounty and flourishing, where nourishment can be found for the mind, body, heart, and bank account. For those who choose to partake omnivorously, compassionate thriving and a suite of surprises await.
A cornucopia year holds and pushes, gives and shares. It has plentiful space for community and discovery. It lays a banquet of riches across the table: new places, old friends, spontaneous decisions, growth experiences, and surprising pathways.
I’m keeping My Cornucopia Year top of mind in a number of ways, and I wanted to share them here. Yes, because the spirit of abundance and community is inherent in the cornucopia concept. And also because it’s so easy to not consciously think about where we’re putting our focus in a world full of distractions and shortening attention spans.
I’m literally wearing this idea on a daily basis. I put this ring on my finger every morning and take it off before bed every night. It’s the word cornucopia in my own handwriting, turned into a tangible token by Caitlyn Minimalist. It’s there for me to fiddle with in down time, to be in physical contact with, to remind me in analogue, three-dimensional space of where I want my heart to turn.
I’ve got it in digital space, too. The map I made of My Cornucopia Year (another great tool from Mapping Your Path) is my computer desktop. The physical map is taped to my standing desk, so I see it when I’m working, and I’ve also got it digitally inflecting my work, even as I type this out right now.
The map has a bunch of helpful, playful reminders for me, and incorporates a lot of the words that connect to cornucopia in my mind. It’s got some visual metaphors to support what I’m trying to do (I like them all, but I’ve gotta say I’m particularly fond of the Cradle of Abundance and the Punk Pirate Cove), and a cornucopian guiding question to use as a signpost: How can I turn toward and foster abundance?
I’ve got my vision board for the year tacked up on the bulletin board right next to my desk, complete with both images and words combined into its own little collage of plenty. Some of these elements are meaningful because of where they came from (like Varvara’s sticker from my amazing tattoo experience or the “Be a part of the story” phrase clipped from a notebook I bought in Tanzania). Some are there to remind me of sources of abundance and adventure (like the photographic imagery from places along my #RSRSeesTheUSA road trip or the tempting library stacks). Some are tenets and depictions of things that bring me the kind of bucket-filling sustenance that keeps me going (“how to build a meaningful life” and dancing and hands clasped together and more voice/possibilities/world/tranquility).
As I mentioned up top, this whole cornucopian spirit has been inflecting the January I’ve had, with a renewed spirit of excitement about the possibilities of my work and life.
I’ve been leading pirate-inspired staff training sessions at museums and planning for more that are scheduled for the coming months.
I’ve been returning more regularly to Writer’s Hour and getting my creative ideas out.
I’ve been reading (6 books down already for 2023, including the newest from much-beloved Kate Atkinson).
I’ve begun auditing a course at my undergrad alma mater, Wellesley College, an intellectual treat that’s letting me dive into the world of Fedor Dostoevsky with a bunch of smart students and a devoted professor where I get to read and listen and not actually have to do any homework.
I’ve finished the script of Lost Jobs, Found Voices, the documentary theatre piece about professional loss that I’ve been collaborating on for a couple years now.
I’m also turning the cornucopia spirit of communality and gathering into a couple of exciting things that have been long gestating and are now about to be fully born into the world.
On Thursday Feb 2 at 11am EST, I’m leading a Creative Mornings Virtual FieldTrip called Look at Art Like a Pirate where we use unexpected techniques to engage with a single artwork and learn ways of looking that work for us, regardless of what we may think we’re supposed to do when viewing art.
I’ve been attending Creative Mornings events for years, starting when it was a small New York City-based organization that ran in-person breakfast meet-ups and then extending into the virtual realm during the last few years. It’s been one of the sources of joy and inspiration and connection that I’ve relied on during the pandemic and my own life upheavals since 2020. I’m grateful and excited to be able to give something back to that community of eclectic, creative minds and hearts. And the spirit of radical generosity that underpins Creative Mornings is absolutely one that I’m happy to contribute to.
The radical generosity means this FieldTrip is totally free, so you can register to join in the fun yourself (there’ll be a video available for a few days to those who register but can’t attend, in case you’re interested but not free at that particular time). Come join me!
But perhaps most cornucopian of all the things my January has brought is the launch of the Consortium of Arts Related Entrepreneurs (aka CARE), my new 6-month membership community for independent arts and culture workers to support and learn from each other. I wrote a longer explanation of how that one came to be, which I hope you’ve read or will go read now.
CARE feels like a perfect combination of so many of the elements that come into play with cornucopia. It’s a communal gathering where all members can share. It’s a place of support and vulnerability in a moment when so many of us feel so fractured apart from each other. It’s a reminder that even if we’re working on our own, we don’t have to work alone.
CARE is a channel where I’m hoping people can find the camaraderie and thought-partnering that they’re looking for to move their independent work forward. It’s me building a community that I want to be a part of. It’s a place where all those juicy words about cornucopias combine: abundance, nourishment, eclectic, profusion, bounty, variety.
The people who’ve already signed on are such a wonderful mix of folks. People who’ve been working on their own for a long time and those who are new to it. People who’ve got decades of career experience under their belts and those who are emerging into their authority. People who define work and family and travel and home in all sorts of different ways. People I can’t wait to be learning from and alongside, myself.
I’m really excited about it. If you’ve been thinking about joining, here’s your reminder. If you’ve been meaning to pass it on to anyone in your own circles, here’s that reminder, too.
Enrollment is open through February 5, and this inaugural round (which will begin on Feb 15 and run through mid August 2023) is a more affordable rate than future rounds will be. It’s also got tiered pricing, so you can join no matter what your financial reality may be.
This cornucopian January has come with a sense of balance and promise that I look forward to developing throughout the rest of 2023. I hope you’ll be along to join me, and I can’t wait to see what bountiful riches the year ahead has in store.
Creative Prompt Coda: what is your word for 2023? Write it a snazzy bit of marketing copy to share with the world (or just your own journal) what it means to you.
