This is my 2021 word-of-the-year.

Every year for the past 4 or 5 years, I’ve set a word of the year. I learned this from Gretchen Rubin of the Happiness Project. 

https://gretchenrubin.com/podcast-episode/306-choose-your-one-word-theme-2021/



For me, it helps to set intention moving forward. Unlike a New Year’s resolution, there’s no guilt associated with not achieving it and there’s always a ton of room for interpretation so you can always find a way to achieve it. 

I’ve never been good at New Year’s resolutions, always feeling guilty when I didn’t go to the gym 5 days a week or lose 10 lbs. or whatever. Because the word of the year is more a suggestion than a goal, it can sit and percolate at the back of my mind all year while consciously or subconsciously guiding my choices. I can use it as a touchstone on which to make decisions: For example, one of the things that really fills my soul is watching plants grow. Not literally (ok, sometimes literally) and this year I’ve put a lot of energy into my garden, which just by its very nature defines rejuvenation. Vegetables, flowers, citrus trees, succulents, “cultivated” weeds you name it. 

My garden starts working to rejuvenate me first thing in the morning. I wake up and wonder what the leaf miners have eaten or whether the deer ate the heads off of more flowers. I fantasize about picking the ripe red strawberries and plan my dinner around what’s ready. As soon as I get up, I go out, make sure my newly installed irrigation system is doing its job (trying to save water!), pick snails, squish caterpillars and listen to the birds in Pudding Creek. Once that is done, and I’ve picked all the chard I can possibly eat that day, I go sit at my desk and write. Not for work, but for creativity and pleasure. 

Sometimes I write this newsletter (ok, not lately admittedly!), but most of the time I write fiction. Stories where I can let my mind wander, work out any issues that might be floating around and think of the world in a very different way than I do in the day to day. Rather than writing a journal, I write stories that allow me to get outside my head and into the mind of someone else. It increases my empathy as well as my acceptance of others. Everyone has a story. I’m really having fun creating those stories and seeing things from different perspectives. 



“...[it] creat[es] cognitive alienation from the world you’re in. It’s like your world. But it’s unlike your world. And so the normal ways that you would absorb patterns and gestalts begins to erode. And you can see the same things anew.” Ezra Klein

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/02/opinion/ezra-klein-podcast-jeff-tweedy.html

 

All this creative time and fresh air starts my day off in a calm and grounded place. It is breathing new life into my routine and is helping reinvigorate things that had withered. I wish I could say it works everyday and that my climb upwards is steady and true, but honestly, it’s more like a constant struggle to remind myself of my path. But as long as I keep looking up and trying to move forward, the world and my life keep feeling lighter and brighter. As we move further away from 2020, I hope they do for you too.

Rejuvenation.

This spring, my family and I are really trying to lighten up. We’re trying to laugh more with each other, not take ourselves too seriously, look at all the fortunate things we have in our lives and generally just be lighter. I don’t know about you, but this takes a lot of effort for me. I tend to take myself waaay too seriously.

Springtime is a really great time to work on this, I find. My son is learning to ride his skateboard so we spend many evenings after dinner wandering around the neighborhood in search of the smoothest sidewalks and the most challenging curbs to practice jumping over (I’m sure there’s a more technical term than “jumping over” lol). During this time, we’re not thinking about anything but being together, being outside and whether or not this street is too bumpy. 

Another great way I can feel light and airy is to get out into the garden. Springtime brings bees, gophers, sprouts, flowers, pollen, snails… It just fills me with joy to putter among the greenery and watch the seeds I planted back in March sprout and grow leaves. It makes me laugh every single morning when I pluck a dozen snails out of the garden (seriously--every morning!) and feed them to my duck for breakfast. I get so excited when I serve my family bushels of radishes that are coming out of the garden every day. 

Seeds can sit dormant for years, potentially centuries, just waiting to be planted and feel the sun on their leaves. They store up their reserves, holding onto their potential knowing (hoping) one day they’ll be able to let loose and burst into the world. 

I can relate to this little seed-- after the tough year we had last year, it’s really nice (essential) to breathe in the fresh air, feel the wind on our faces and enjoy the beauty around us. It’s those lovely springtime things that can really lighten up a mood. 

The world feels lighter for me right now. I hope it does for you too.

Got Any Good Radish Recipes?

The other night, I met with my book club. As we sat around the fire pit, watching the sunset, we reflected on our experiences during the last year and talked about how our lives have changed. Each one of us had experienced some sort of loss, but also some sort of personal transformation. This juxtaposition of emotions is not unique to us, of course. It’s something that everyone is talking about right now.

As we move officially into “year 2”, most of us have felt the crush of the pandemic in some way-- some of us haven’t hugged family members in well over a year, some of us have lost businesses or jobs to it, while others of us simply haven’t been able to enjoy the little things in life, like meeting a friend for coffee. Whatever the level of grief and sacrifice, it’s there. 

It’s easy to focus only on the negative of all of this (there are days when I can’t see anything but). These days, it takes a lot of effort to stay in- or briefly glimpse- a positive frame of mind. If we can, however, there are many rewards for us. 

I mentioned my friends’ personal transformations: We learned how adaptable we can be, we rediscovered the necessity of friendship and connection, we dug deep into ourselves and came up with a strength we didn’t even know we were missing. It’s like we stared into the abyss so long and hard that when we finally turned around, the light shining in our eyes was brighter than we ever could have imagined. For me, this light took the form of something I’ve talked about here before: space. It’s something I didn’t know I was missing until it appeared.



Every time I think about this idea of space, a small part of my brain opens up and I can feel the fresh air flowing in.



Space usually implies the need to be filled. But for me, it’s less about what will go into that space, and more just that the space exists-- the space to really examine myself and see what’s in there. This is a chance to evaluate what I want to preserve and what I want to slough off and leave behind. 

As I sat around that fire with my friends, we all wondered aloud what moving forward into this next chapter of our lives will look like. There will definitely be ups and downs, loss and grief, happiness and healing. None of us know what will happen or how things will turn out. But what is certain is that we all get to choose how we view this life and what we carry with us from this experience. And also we get to choose which side of it to stare harder into: the abyss or the light. And as long as I can, I will try to choose the light.

Give Yourself Space

About a year ago, I experienced an intense betrayal. I wasn’t blindsided exactly, but I had no way of knowing it would happen. It was as if I was living one life and they were living another. They saw things in a light that made them feel justified in their actions, which to me, made no sense at all. There were people involved on both sides: some taking sides before hearing the whole story, others frankly just loving the drama; for certain there was a gaping lack of respectful communication and an unwillingness to face issues head-on in a productive way.

For anyone who has been through an intense emotional upheaval of some sort, you’ll know some of the phases you go through: Denial, Shame, Sadness, Anger. The path through, for me, was meandering-- it sometimes looped back on itself and repeated or moved quickly ahead and skipped steps, giving a bit of hope-- but it was always there, nibbling away at the back of my brain whether I was aware of it or not. 

Right now as a species we are feeling a global sense of betrayal: no matter what your views on masking, politics, climate change or any of the other massive movements going on, I think we all feel betrayed by what we thought was stable and solid. We thought we could rely on certain things to never change and other things that we never even knew we were taking for granted, are now front and center as things we desperately miss. 

As we move through the months of Covid isolation, political unrest, fire season and a hot autumn here on the coast, I can’t help thinking about what some call Covid fatigue, some call burn out- the need to feel warmth and comfort, a yearning to let our guard down and release ourselves from the constant nibbling at the back of our mind. We can’t stay on our guard this long without some of it seeping out through the cracks and spraying all over our loved ones or polluting our own psyche. 

On a personal level, this amount of individual and global grief can get too much to handle at times. But then I’ll have a conversation with a friend- one whose views couldn’t be more different than mine- and realize that listening to each others’ points of view in a respectful way really can help uncover the fact that our motivations are all extremely aligned. Even though we may come at it differently, we all, in the end want the same thing. If we just stop fighting, backstabbing and letting our egos get in the way, we might just learn that we’re all in this together and learn to move forward united. 

So as we go into a very contentious election season, further into Covid and into winter, it will do us all good to remember that we’re ALL just trying to get through the day. If we all put our fists down and communicate, I think we'll realize that we're just trying to reach the end of that cycle of grief: Acceptance.

How to Find Healing

As I sit down with my coffee to reflect on what the last few months have brought, I remember something I read not too long ago written by a handful of exceptional writers. 

These writers were tasked with telling a story about their experiences in the time of Covid- not reflecting on what they learned after the fact, but telling the story while they are in it. A snap shot of things not finished but very raw. 

What I'm talking about is a project by the New York Times called 

 . It is inspired by the 14th Century writings of Giovanni Boccaccio during the Black Death. His book, entitled The Decameron, is a collection of stories processing the fear and grief caused by the plague. 

The goal of the modern day Decameron Project is to help us process our own pain and grief as we experience it.

It occurred to me as I read these stories, that we are all participating in this project in our own way-- even if we're not writing formal stories. Everything we do will go into the history books to be told to many generations to come. It can get heavy and serious-- no one wants to live through history-- but it can also be an opportunity to create beauty. 

The Decameron Project displays stories that are hopeful, sad, sobering, interesting and thought provoking. There are a variety of subjects and emotions-- just as there are a variety of ways that everyone I know is dealing with this pandemic. The stories in this collection, and the stories I hear from friends, are all a window into how each person copes, the interactions they have with each other or the experiences they have in the world. Some of them really put my thoughts or feelings into words. Some of them have really helped me to process my own grief and loss and joy and confusion. 

Eventually, we'll be at the end of this piece of history. Memories will fade and things will get blurry. While you're going through this, make sure to share your stories somehow-- because you never know! They might be helpful to someone else right now.

Each of Us Has a Story

Yesterday was the first day we had clients in our shop since March. And I'm going to be honest: it was weird. 

None of us was sure what the mask protocol was; we instinctively shook hands then immediately tried not to look horrified that we'd just touched each other; and we tried not to touch the same pen and scissors as we talked about the artwork we'd designed for them. We all kept commenting on how unnatural and awkward it all was.

I personally have my thoughts and feelings and opinions about all of this and I know you do too. I understand that physical distancing helps stop the spread-- this is why our storefront remains closed to the public. But I can't help thinking about the joy I get from giving a friend a hug or from the good solid handshake of a new client. It's really deeply satisfying and brings us closer than a smile through a mask.

As I sat at that table yesterday, laughing over the awkwardness, talking about design and connecting with new clients who I hope become good friends, I realized that until my comfort level changes, until there's a vaccine, until we really understand this thing, I think I will have to sink into the uncomfortable feelings and get used to this uncertainty. But while we're waiting for things to get better, we shouldn't forget to reach out to people in different ways and show our support and connection through the actions we can engage in safely now. And to remember: it's just gonna be weird for a while.

It's Gonna Be Weird

How are you?


No really... how are you?


This sentiment is something that we ask casually all the time-- it's a greeting more than a question. Does anyone really care about the answer? Well, now a days it seems we all do.

I've been thinking a lot lately about our community and the current and future state of it (I know I'm not the only one!) and about the many ways we can support each other to ensure we make it. One of the ways I feel I can support my community right now, is to really feel what it means to 'Shop Local'. To think about how, when I buy local, I'm not just fulfilling a catch phrase, but am truly helping to support my community. Shopping local means that my dollars circulate, allowing my neighbors and friends to live here and spend their money here too.

Granted, it is difficult to shop these days when we're told to physically distance and most shop doors aren't even open. But there are other ways to shop-- Facebook, websites, a good old fashioned phone call.

So stay in, support your community and when you ask your neighbor how they are, truly listen.

Throughout the last few months, when I meet people on the street, their questions are always about:


    1. The state of my business
    2. How homeschooling is going
    3. What's growing in my garden


And after they ask, they actually stand there to hear the answers! It's so touching and sweet, I only hope I am reciprocating. It's one of the many ways we are connecting as a community (conversely) during these times of social distance and shelter in place.

Good Afternoon!

A very interesting thing has started to happen in our household. Without all the normal rushing about of our "normal" lives, with no time crunch of getting to school and work on time, without noise and distractions, we're able to hear something: Quiet creativity.

It has come to us in many forms. Baking sourdough bread (like everyone else in the world, we find this very satisfying!), tending to small vegetable starts on the windowsill, building that Lego house that's been sitting in pieces for months, snuggling with the cat, painting with the kids. 

During these long quiet days, my mind has found a sort of settling-- a part that lay dormant for years is opening up to reveal what I can only describe as "space". This space, instead of being drowned out by stuff and busy-ness, is being filled with pondering, reflection and general gratefulness.

Even though I hope that this crisis will soon end and I'm not grateful for the event that put us all here, I am grateful for what it's brought. I truly hope that I can keep this openness and continue to find space for creativity when life goes back to normal. Although, we all know that life will never go back to normal-- and that we will define a new normal based on what we learn today.

A New Normal

Last weekend, I took the dog for a walk. We walked around the neighborhood as we normally do, taking in the sounds of the birds and the sparkling daffodils after the rain. Close to the end of our walk, we met a friend, out walking her dog too, and stopped to chat.

We happened to stop in front of another friend's house. She came out on her step and we chatted. As we moved to the next house, yet another friend came out onto her front porch and we chatted some more. Some about the state of the world, mostly just to connect with good friends and reassure each other that we're not alone.

As the world news is dominated by COVID-19, we all wonder what this will mean for us. Us in the individual sense, and also us as a community. We have been advised to practice social distancing, stay home as much as possible, and work online.

To stay healthy as a community, we need to strike the balance between continuing to support our local businesses and making choices that are safely aligned with national, state and global recommendations. This is not an easy choice. We need to find ways to connect with one another, while still staying safe and heeding the warnings.

Color Mill Design

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