A well-known psychologist and philosopher, James Hillman, wrote:

“The great task of a life-sustaining culture is to keep the invisibles attached… And then we must look back over our lives at some of the accidents and curiosities and oddities and troubles and sicknesses and begin to see more in those things than we saw before…There is still a thread of individual character that determines how you live through those things. This is destiny. Symptoms are part of our calling — they force us to go deeper.”

The term “invisibles” intrigues me. I painted red words on the side of a small vintage suitcase. My “curious evidence” suitcase is a place for the invisibles.

How we live through all that we encounter each day seems to be the key.

During the past few weeks, I have spent many hours in a large gallery space where I have nearly 90 pieces of art on view. This display reconnects me with the invisibles of my own experience.

One thing I have noticed is that I now differentiate the work made before September 11, 2001, from the work made after that day. A shade was cast on public life and a certain chaos entered my artwork. The marker of 9/11 has also become intertwined with my own before multiple myeloma (BMM) and after (AMM).

My diagnosis was not unlike being struck by an unfriendly force. One painting is titled “Myeloma Mutiny.” It was the only painting I made during the year I was in treatment for myeloma. A couple of people at the opening of my art show asked about the title, as they knew nothing of this chapter of my life.

I titled another one “Daughter Cells.” I came upon this term that is used in the discussion of cell division. I’m not clear how much daughter cells are even connected to what happens to cells after autologous stem cell transplantation, but the idea of this maternal relationship between cells captured my imagination and stirred a vision to which I could relate.

If I am the mother of this physical opera within me, there is a sense of being actively involved as director, rather than a victim of an unknown chaos. The curious evidence taking place within my cells and bones is quite a large invisible process that has become much more tangible to me during the past nine AMM years.

Another significant event during my AMM years has been receiving Social Security Disability benefits. Although I now am almost old enough to collect the regular kind of social security, I view the last few years as an early retirement from a high-stress life that was out of alignment with who I am.

Finances are precarious because of this choice and I have endured many mixed feelings about accepting the “disability” label, but I believe I am well today because of it. I have been able to maintain my health and keep the invisibles attached.

I read somewhere that fate is what happens when you do nothing — things just happen. Destiny is a result of intentional actions. Although I have been an artist for more than thirty years (while also working at various jobs), I had not been very productive in the years leading up to my diagnosis.

Sustaining my own healing in my AMM years has led me to a more prolific time. Living through multiple myeloma has led to a surprising destiny that I could not have imagined in my BMM years.