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IF YOU'VE BEEN READING THIS NEWSLETTER . . .
for many years you likely know that we have a complicated relationship with the 'holiday' season.
At a time of year when our animal bodies crave rest and quiet, we feel a resistance to the status quo . . . the messaging out in the ether says Celebrate!, Socialize!, and Spend!, while the gentle whisper inside us says, Sleep, Savor, and Slow down.
It's been tricky business to rectify the opposition of these forces, to find an authentic way to move through this season so that we neither get swept up in the inertia of the cultural tide, nor isolate ourselves through stubborn resistance.
This year, a few synchronicities have helped pave a new way, one that honors our deep desires to connect . . . both to the desires themselves and to each other (particularly in person) . . . while at the same time re-imagining what community care can look like.
Recently, a book recommendation came down the chain from my sister-in-law, Sarah, through her dear friend, Sarah from Saipua: the recent work of Brian Eno. I immediately requested What Art Does from our local library and devoured it in one sitting, deeply touched by so much of what he wrote. The general thesis can be summed up as:
"Play is how children learn.
Art is how adults play."
The book prompted me to listen to his interview on The New Yorker Radio Hour, where he recounted simple wisdom from his late friend Jon Hassel:
"One of the most important questions you can ask yourself is, 'What is it that I really like?'"
At face value, this question can seem trivial, until you recognize that so much of what we currently call 'culture' under capitalism expressly severs our connection to this foundational understanding, supplanting it with what we're 'supposed to' or 'should' want or do.
When we step back from standard ideas of 'the holiday season,' and think about, What is it that I really like? . . . In our body and spirit, we know that there is so much beauty to preserve and create . . .
. . . honoring rituals that connect us to a specific time of year, or lineage (for our family, making candied almonds, homemade ravioli, and baccala salad for our feast of the seven fishes is a huge part of connecting us to my late mother-in-law Bonnie, who preserved her Italian family's traditions for decades)
. . . creating space for joy, play, and magic
. . . gathering in person in ways that light up our spirit (when it is cold and dark, coming together in reasonably sized groups to sing, dance, be by the fire / candlelight, and be in service feels so right)
In this spirit, I experimented with a new ritual. One of the heavier parts of this season for me is the waste - both from pressure to buy brand-new items, and the expectations of giving 'just because.' Don't get me wrong: I love thoughtful gift giving, especially when the spirit moves me or others. There is no greater feeling than sharing something with someone that really lights up their heart or lessens their load (for example, for the past few years, my sister has gifted our family oysters from her friend's family shellfish farm, which has been such a welcome addition to our feast of the seven fishes).
But the thought of just being loaded with more stuff (particularly for our kids, and more specifically when that stuff so rarely lasts until next year) gives me pause, and a deep desire to find a better way.
When I stated my urge to host a holiday toy exchange out loud, the universe brought an acquaintance (now turned friend) into my inbox. In mid-November, Erica wrote me to say something to the effect of, "I was so inspired by your curated tag sale in September that I would love to help organize a similar version where we collect good condition toys from families that no longer want them and redistribute them to folks who are looking for items to give their kids this holiday season." That same day, Katharine - a longtime friend - wrote with a similar sentiment, which tipped the scales to say: yes, let's do this!
Over the course on the next month - with the help of various friends along the way - we collected three van loads full of items that families were elated to clear from their homes. They had served their children well, but with kids growing so quickly, they were on to new hobbies and interests, and families were eager to reclaim physical and energetic space by passing on these well-loved objects to those in search of the very things that were weighing them down.
Last Friday, a team of us, with great care and joy, set up a veritable toy shop in the span of six hours. We were lucky to use the beloved GASKINS restaurant space, and infuse it with an abundance of love right before it's changing hands.
Everyone lent their special skills and talents . . . Laura hung garland and big colored bulbs, filling up a tree with small stuffies turned ornaments, Triona created a display of wrapped gifts all utilizing recycled or abundant-in-nature materials, with extras for people to take home with them, Adina and Zeke sorted and categorized hundreds of books, Corinna did what she does best, which is to look around and see what needs doing at any particular moment and just do it, Alix decided that the bin full of tiny stocking stuffers just would not do, and arranged every last little object onto a table top so that everyone could eye each enticing piece to find what would work best for them, and Noelle merchandised every single section in a way that infused it with so much thought and love that it made you feel lucky to interact with any item. She lovingly arranged the books by size and height, the way she used to do in her kiddo's room before the fires swept through their home in Altadena last year.
What a joy to be together, in service of creating such abundance and beauty that was hiding in plain sight. What magic we weaved together.
On Saturday, we welcomed people to come 'shop' the holiday toy exchange. We had a $5 suggested donation to enter, donated to our local community kitchen, which currently distributes 2,000 warm nutritious meals to people within Columbia County each week. Once you were inside, you could take anything that you would use and enjoy.
What struck me most of all was the layers of gratitude at every stage of the process . . .
. . . the people who donated the items were so grateful to clear space and have a place to send them where they would go to good use
. . . the people 'shopping' were grateful to save money, reduce waste, and expand their circle of giving in ways that would have otherwise been cost prohibitive
. . . the organization was grateful to get a $1,501 infusion during a time when their work continues to be ever more critical
. . . and the people volunteering their time were so glad to be together using their unique gifts to create and magnify beauty and joy
And all I could think was THIS is what I really like.
Experiences like this light up my life. They amplify my energy in such an expansive way.
So with that deep knowing, I will be doing more of this in the new year.
And before we go, we have two bits of news to share with you . . . this is our last newsletter of 2025, as we take an annual break to honor the season's call to be present in the physical world . . . we'll return at the end of the Omen Days, on January 6th, to take our first steps into a new realm, having searched for ways to bring the GFJ community alive, working hard (without urgency or rushing) to determining what shape that takes.
As always, we will continue to publish our weekly Tuesday newsletter, a communication that will remain open, accessible, and free of charge. This regular practice or writing, reflecting, and connecting has been the most important and fruitful work of my life. Thank you for being such a special part of it.
In January, we will be moving this newsletter from Mailchimp to Substack - an effort to make the writing more easily archived, searchable, and available to others that might benefit from being in community with us.
In addition to the forever-free weekly newsletter, we will offer the option to subscribe for access to additional features that are similar in spirit - including conversations with us and each other, as well as what I can only describe as our 'artwork' (a mix of recipes / cookery, poetry, visual art, gathering guides, and other assorted forms of expression from us and other artists that we admire). The funds will help fuel this art, as well as our continued work at GFJ.
We look forward to playing and learning together, from here to eternity.
To the art of world building,
Tay + Dor
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