Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic For the past few weeks, I’ve been volleying back and forth with a group of friends near and far, trying to reflect together on global events. Recently, I received an email from a friend who is currently away from the US, and whom I hadn’t seen in almost a year. She was reaching out from a short self-imposed writing retreat on a sheep farm in the north of Iceland, and her email included photos of the view from her sanctuary. I paused over the images of a vast hilly landscape covered only with snow. Some horses lay in the frame, their shaggy manes covering their eyes. For a brief moment I was transported to my friend’s winter haven. I felt moved by the photos but also by the fact that, just minutes ago, at a desolate farm in Iceland, she was thinking of me — as I had thought of her a few days earlier when I sent a message letting her know I was available if she needed to talk. I’ve been reflecting a bit more earnestly these days on how important it is to actively nurture community in our lives — the kind of community that tries to make space for people to work out what it means to live together through all seasons of life, and what arises both in our private and our collective public lives. When we shift towards a more communal mindset, we do not have to face harsh winds aloneThough such communities tend to be small, because of what is required to truly be present for one another, I don’t think having a family is quite the same as creating communities that feel safe enough for us show up as our complicated selves, and that keep us open to giving, receiving and being transformed. These groups have to be created with intention and maintained with presence and shared time. As I get older I’m more deeply aware that we all need community, whether that’s a grouping of four, five or 15 people, not just to survive but also to thrive. “Wind” is a 2014 painting by the contemporary Ukrainian artist Denis Sarazhin. Twelve people balance on top of a mound covered with what resembles soil and fallen leaves. They are all grasping at each other’s arms while also trying to shield themselves from a fierce wind that is blowing in from the white-speckled expanse of space that surrounds them. A few characters duck and hunch over. The men are shirtless and in shorts while the women wear flimsy dresses, as if this windstorm has caught them unprepared. It is an image of a community of people striving to help one another stay grounded and safe against the harsh elements. The composition of the circular arc against the white background makes me think of the Earth floating in the cosmos. These figures are trying to keep their balance in an unstable world. Wind, in a symbolic sense, blows through all our lives. Sometimes it is the soft and soothing breeze of good favour, and sometimes it is a harsh and destabilising gale of misfortune. So many of us are conditioned to have a “me first” mentality. It is understandable, of course, to want to ensure our own wellbeing, and to a large degree that is essential before we are able to provide care for anyone else. But being a part of a community can be a beautiful and necessary reminder that we are all in this together, and when we shift towards a more communal mindset, we do not have to face harsh winds alone. A good community can create space for each of us to oscillate between our weaknesses and our strengths, trusting that when one person is challenged to stand fully upright, another is present either to help or to stand in their stead. “The Discussion” is a work by the Italian expressionist painter Renato Guttuso. Painted in 1959-60, it shows a group of men sitting or standing at a table, surrounded by newspapers. A few of them smoke and there’s an ashtray full of cigarette butts. One man stands on the left of the canvas, leaning his weight on his hands, which are pressed flat on the table. His mouth is open, and he seems to be speaking directly to the three men on the right of the painting. They give him their attention, one looking up from the paper he’s been engrossed in. I’ve been thinking about this image in relation to the idea of community because I feel it’s important to recognise that in safe, healthy communities, in which people truly care for one another, there can still be heated discussions and differing opinions. A supportive community is one in which respect and care for one another are not dependent on people having to think alike or share the same views. More important is that the community ultimately has the shared values and ideals of a larger vision. In fact, a good community of people can be the perfect place to test out thoughts, to express certain feelings and to receive feedback that might confirm, refine or challenge and transform our individual perspectives. There is a stunning 1977 black-and-white image by an unknown photographer titled “The Sisterhood”, which is held at Harvard University’s Schlesinger Library. I’ve stored a copy of it on my computer desktop for a few years now, and each time I look at it I’m arrested by how powerfully it depicts one type of community. It shows eight women dressed in winter clothing. We know several of them as famed writers, poets and playwrights — readily identifiable are June Jordan, Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Nana Maynard, Ntozake Shange and Vertamae Smart-Grosvenor. And at the time of this photo, they are all young and vibrant, each actively using their creative talents to make art that would have a widespread impact on the world. Throughout my life I have often created ways to meet regularly with a small group of women to talk about the intersection of things happening in the world and across our lives. It’s a vital way for me to stay connected to others and to keep my mind active and open. When I look at “The Sisterhood” photograph, I’m reminded of the beautiful role that community can have in encouraging us to share our stories of how we experience the world. But also how a community can acknowledge our gifts and talents, and take them seriously, even when times are hard, even when the world makes us question our efforts or challenges the worth of these gifts. I love this photograph because it really does look like an ordinary group of women friends who have gathered for an impromptu picture. And yet they were an intentional community who got together regularly between 1977 and 1979 to talk about their work, their lives and the world. Staring at the image, one can almost feel the energy between them and imagine the support and encouragement they offered one another. I’m also taken by the image that hangs on the wall in the background. I don’t know who the woman is but in my imagination she represents the ancestors who can also be part of our communities, providing strength and inspiration for those communities to draw on. It’s a beautiful idea that every generation has communities that in some way nurture and feed the next. When we give of ourselves, when we speak openly and honestly, when we encourage the use of one another’s gifts, when we stand together and hold one another against the fierce winds that surely come, the benefits are felt by us both as individuals and as a community, but perhaps also in the world at large.Email Enuma at enuma.okoro@ft.comFind out about our latest stories first — follow FT Weekend on Instagram and X, and subscribe to our podcast Life & Art wherever you listen
