My friends, the fall has been full.

Who knew that in the last four months of this year I would become an immigration pathway researcher, government agency acronym wizard, resettlement case worker, part-time therapist, on the ground service connector, and relocation services map-maker…across multiple countries? But as many of you know, once I commit my heart to something I cannot step away. Especially when the lives and futures of many good and kind and generous souls hang in the balance.

However, if you know me, you also know I cannot spend months at a time focusing on something without art and culture becoming an integral part of the process.

Please join us for a celebration of Shabe Yalda, a cherished and ancient festival of connection, reflection, and the renewal of our human bonds in the darkness of winter. Register now to join.

Shahzia Sikander, Emanate, 2021.
Watercolour, ink, gouache and gold on paper, 193 x 129.5 cm; 76 x 51 in
Courtesy of the artist and Pilar Corrias, London
Emanate, by Shahzia Sikander is about women as a source of light.

Within deep chasms of sorrow, we can plant the seeds of cultural renewal. They will gestate in the darkness. I’ve learned to hold still and be as soft as I can to hear and hold the whispers of the future. Art and culture weaves a powerful web of connection. This Solstice, as our friends and loved ones in Afghanistan are living through heartache, we offer the balm of story and song and the ties that bind us.

Hear lullabies and stories from artists and human rights advocates who recently escaped from Afghanistan.

With music, poetry, and visual arts from incredible immigrant and diaspora heritage artists.

If you are directly affected or have been involved in mutual aid efforts, please come for free and nourish yourself.

In August, I stepped on a path without knowing where it goes. Without realizing it, I became a seeker. And in looking and listening in the dark, through the frightful unknown I have encountered things I have tried not to see and I have found things I never imagined were out there for me.

The tentacles of war culture  buried inside me, inside my mothering, inside all the institutions of aid.

New connection to my creative center. Art-making doesn’t have to be this frantic “thing” outside of myself. It is part of me, it is what I am a part of.

Staying present with those near and far with shared baby pictures while distracting myself from the thousands who will perish this winter.

I have not wanted to face what it means for me to be a body. An entity that needs support and care, rest and replenishment. I want to do it all. All the time. But in being vulnerable and admitting I need help, even from my Afghan friends who have so little, I’m finding the abundance that lies within solidarity work: the renewable and sustaining treasure of relationships based in love and trust and hope.

Thank you, each and every one of you who have held me, sustained me, sent a text, a photo, offered a gesture of love, or extended yourself to meet me on this path. As my new friend, Junaid Lughmani, said “When we open our hearts, there’s always a way.”

Del beh del, rah dareh. From one heart to another, there is a portal.

With love,
Kayhan