In the face of our current political and economic environment, particularly in the context of education, community, and arts, dark clouds on our horizon have fast become storms, storms raining down on us in the South Pacific with a force and subsequent devastation that is soul destroying. Some days I feel we might be in the eye of the storm and other days a glimmer of light sparkles off the rain from the aspirational agendas of UNESCO. But most days, it is dark clouds and storms. Thundering requests for more evidence, gales of economic cuts poorly disguised as enhancement projects, and rain that no arts educator can withstand alone. Where is the sheltering umbrella for an arts academic in the university? This article is a critical autoethnography of hope embodied, a practice of withdrawing to the shelter in my own skin to survive this storm. Or at least, this article is an attempt to find hope.1