I had a plan.
I was showing up for it.
And in the middle of last week’s post, I realized that I am not nearly the writer I want to be, and maybe I don’t want to write the series I started here. And maybe I can give myself the freedom to change that up. Maybe I don’t have to take this too seriously.
And then when I signed into Substack today to write a new post, I saw that I’ve lost 25% of my followers here since I started writing again.
I mean…
Hm. HMMM.
Where in this world do we get to practice anymore? Where do we get to move energy without annoying or offending people with our very existence—after they’ve said yes to meeting us, listening, being with us? What are we to do with negative responses every. time. we. talk.?
I’ve been online 20 years, and I have never felt it the way I feel it lately.
Is this what it means to be human now? To be tough enough to take that disconnect and keep showing up and sharing anyway?
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My husband bought me roses and roses and roses yesterday. I can smell them through my open window while I write here.
The afternoon sun is bouncing off the neighbor’s solar pane under the shade of the ginkgo (which is leafing out now), and right into my living room.
I’m listening to music, a little piano tune from a Lucas Jayden that is asking innocent questions without demanding any answers. It’s like sitting with my feelings, like being a child again, answering an invitation to turn my hand over in the light and have it not mean anything at all.
The roses are happening.
Every word I write is happening.
I am happening.
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I honestly don’t know what I’m going to DO with this Substack yet. It’s a space I’ve had for a few years that I’ve tried to fit into things it didn’t really want to be.
I’d like it to be what it is. An artist journal, from an introverted artist who has been in this for over 20 years and still hasn’t achieved greatness and doesn’t actually need to do that in order to be satisfied.
I want to use this journal, try it out, play with it, see where it might end up.
I’ve always learned by doing.
And when I do, I happen into the best things.
So I guess this is getting real. I plan to practice. To move some energy. To try things. (I want to write like Annie Dillard, or David Whyte.) To SAY STUFF.
I plan to happen.
Regularly. Weekly.
Unsubscribe if you must. Or feel free to happen with me.
You have an admirable audacity to just be- to believe that is what you are here for and about and to show up accordingly. Thank you for that.
On of my favorite quotes is "I learn by going where I have to go." This reminded me of that.
Maybe you are writing for you or for the ones still here. Either way it is a win.