Weekend Wanderings

At attempt to make sense of life and the world each week. Or at least share what I read...

Some weeks I have words, and some weeks I am listening…

Some weeks I have words, and some weeks I am listening…

• As Kayla Craig, Liturgies for Parents newsletter author wrote, “I don’t have highly spiritual answers to explain away your pain or mine. But what I do have is a hope that, in a real and mysterious turn of events, we are not alone as the earth cries out. And because of this, we can live open-hearted—because it’s only when we live open to the pain that we can also be fully open to the joy in our lives, too.
  

  What if we dared to step toward hope instead of closing ourselves off? What if we softened the barriers around our hearts, trusting that when everything falls apart, love remains?" Maybe placing our humble, feeble hope in the with-ness of God is what allows us to really show up—for ourselves, one another, and the world God so loves.”
  
  I am heartbroken and horrified at the devastation caused by the wildfires and at the photos, videos, and news coming from the L.A. fires this week, and for the families and individuals who have lost their homes. I have seen that Airbnb is helping with housing for those who currently have none. If you know local organizations personally in the area or have links to help friends/family, please share below.
  
  

• Words from Austin Kleon’s ( Author of Steal like an Artist, Keep Going) newsletter: Rilke: “And now let us believe in a long year that is given to us, new, untouched, full of things that have never been, full of work that has never been done, full of tasks, claims, and demands; and let us see that we learn to take it without letting fall too much of what it has to bestow upon those who demand of it necessary, serious, and great things.” (Or: “Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. / Just keep going. No feeling is final.”)

• I was beyond excited to discover one of my favorite authors, writers, and poets is on Substack this week! Morgan Harper Nichols is an interdisciplinary artist and writer currently pursuing a PhD in Communication Studies. She is the creator of The Storyteller App and the author of several books, including the bestselling “All Along You Were Blooming.” I loved this newsletter on, “3 Ways to Notice Quiet Changes That Took Shape Within a Year.”

• An excerpt of Lisa Olivera’s weekly newsletter, Human Stuff, “ May your grief, your sorrow, your fear & your heartbreak be witnessed; may it not be rushed, attempted to fix, or pushed away; may it be held with the tenderness it deserves, cared for, loved, for as long as it needs. May you find spaces to collapse, to fall apart, to crumble, to cease holding it all. And, if you are well & resourced, may you tend to your well-being so as to offer it widely.
  
  May you know your feelings are just right, messengers of all your body is holding.

  May the land, animals, and people find the safety, sustenance, and nourishment they need to grow, to thrive, to create, to love, to express, to rest, to feel fully alive.
  

  May you give yourself permission to let your cheeks become riverbanks for the tears asking to flow, for your feet to sink into the holding of the earth below you, to find rootedness even here, even now.
  
  May you find pockets of space that contain nothing but what is here in the present moment: a breath, a walk, a meal, a heart talk with a friend, your legs up the wall. May you remember the gift generosity offers to all; may you allow yourself to give what you have to offer; may you allow yourself to receive what is given.
  

  May power return to those who can wield it wisely, for the benefit of all living beings; may greed transform into generosity, hoarding into giving, hardening into softening.”

Lastly, I think I’ve discouraged myself from writing more frequently on Substack, because I feel I should have this groundbreaking revelation to share about myself, or the world at large, or something to make the space this newsletter takes up in your inbox or Substack notifications, well -to make it really count for something.

And while some seasons of life hold answers, more often than not they ask questions. Writing has always been my safe space to explore the nuance, the intersection between two or more things that often feel in conflict, like having faith/believing but still having in a body with chronic illness and struggling with the current example/format of Church in America these days, like being a mother deeply invested in her children and trying to invest in herself and creativity simultaneously.

I hope we can explore, and find grace and our humanity in the grey areas in - between.
I am so grateful for the 52 of you who are on this journey with me 💛

*A song I keep coming back to in weary, hard, or heavy seasons (especially wintertime/ January):