issue no. 795

TO TAKE SOME TIME AWAY . . .

brings the possibility of transformation. Sometimes there is a desperate craving for that transformation to take place - a prayer to return to something new, as someone new.

Sometimes there is simply the surrender to the uncertainty of what will transpire, who you will be when you return, and what exactly you will return to.

In our case, after taking the month of August to find a different routine from the weekly writing of this newsletter, we returned to the things that we know to be true.

So many instances confirmed how the status quo lures us away from the beauty, abundance, and intelligence of the natural world.

As an example, I had the pleasure of spending a week on the southern shores of Nova Scotia. Having decided to keep my phone in airplane mode, I deferred to using my time to take in the gorgeous shoreline, climb rocky beaches with the kids, play board games (pop-o-matic Trouble for the win), and tear through a few books.

One day, we were out to lunch when a kind woman struck up a conversation. Having spied our license plate, she said, “I see you’re from New York.” Lois lived about an hour from where we were, and she inquired about our visit, wanting to make sure that we were meeting friendly folks, and happily giving us a list of local insights that the internet had not yielded in any combination of search terms.

In particular, she noted that Saturday was her local marina’s cardboard boat race - an annual affair, where people of various age groups (from as young as 6, to the 19 and older crowd) come out and race in their homemade vessels. There are various rules at play (the structure is cardboard only, plus some paint to seal the outside, and duct tape is allowed only up to 25% of the total surface) and prizes are awarded, including a special one for the most spectacular sinking (which always got just as many cheers as the first to cross the finish line).

Making our way to this small town affair was a highlight of the week. The creativity, the enthusiasm, the laughter, the ritual.

Afterward, I made sure to catch up with Lois. She was thrilled we had made it, and before we parted, she gave me one last gift: a reminder that we must check out Cosby’s, down the road. Having passed by the garden center in question, I wondered why she was so adamant about us checking it out, taking care to warn us we would need at least 45 minutes to explore - after all, she didn’t even know me well enough to know that I love to garden.

But shortly after we arrived, I understood. Behind the main area of business was a path that led under an archway. Passing under it, we saw a gorgeous sculpture with incredible plantings all around. As we approached, we realized . . . one epic moment yielded way to another, and another, and another . . . comprising dozens of truly spectacular sculptures nestled into the forest. It took us over an hour just to walk the paths, certain we had not even found or explored every specific branch tucked into the trees.

Several things struck me about this space. First, that it was open for anyone to join, free of charge (with a voluntary donation box) - art and nature intertwined in such a special way for anyone to appreciate and enjoy. There was also a particular magic to the way the space was cultivated and cared for, yet the sculptures and the plantings only served to enhance the natural beauty of the forest, making it possible to move through with reverence but limiting disruption. And finally, while it was clearly maintained, it did not feel manicured. If anything, the plantings and artwork were integrated into the landscape so as to feel like they were always meant to be there.

This forest garden was one of the most generous uses of human contribution that I have ever experienced. It was impossible to be there and not be moved by the artistry and the willingness to share magic. The space itself, and all the events that led us there, reminded me that at the heart of things, we all really do want to contribute: we want to learn, grow, be in community, create, and share.

And all of these experiences came via old fashioned human connection - not an algorithm or AI. They were prompted by the care, curiosity, and consideration of people taking the time to be in conversation.

Life force - the same energy that created each one of us and the oceans and the complex, diverse, abundant, rich beauty of the natural world - is generous and generative. That does not mean it is perfect or easy. It, too, works in inevitable cycles of life and death. It does not promise you immortality, but rather it promises you kinship and connection to a whole web of life that is nothing short of a miracle. It holds the inherent wisdom of time, of collaboration, of evolution. It requires surrender, knowing that you are a part of something so much bigger than yourself alone. Working with this force, rather than controlling it, yields much more impressive results than attempting to dominate it ever can.

And yet as we returned to ‘the real world’ I was struck by the ‘realities’ - billed as ‘inevitable’ - the normalization of endless wars, genocides, AI data centers, and the climate crises they perpetuate. All of the things we are told will lead to ‘safety’ and liberation, yet seem to move us more and more away from both. We seem to be continually led away from the very things that will make everyday life more supported and fulfilling in favor of perpetuating systems that require many people to contribute to the mass accumulation of a few.

In many small food businesses, what seems required just to survive these days are the ability to double down and invest more and more of ourselves into squeezing every last drop out of endeavors that provide diminishing returns. The system exploits our intrinsic desire to serve and to create - in ways that feel unsustainable if the climbing prices continue to creep up. The cost to provide these services can no longer be covered by a price many people are willing or able to pay.

Meanwhile, we crave the time and space to find creative solutions that work with the rich, generative forces that center play, creativity, and care. We don’t want more money - even though we seem to need ever more of it just to pay to live - we want to propagate plants and share them, to make big pots of soup and feed others, to make and share and experience art. We want to climb on the rocks with kids who make up games along the way, and nap to the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. We want to walk the same path over and over again - knowing that a whole universe of novelty resides right where we are. That the intimacy of knowing what is around us affords us the opportunity to notice the diversity of it all - to learn the shapes of the leaves on the trees, the difference in the various birdsong, the way the sunlight hits in a slightly different spot each night while the sun goes down. We want to tend to the land and people and homes around us, making the most use of all of the magic that already exists. And it’s painful to see the story play out that we can only access such things once we’ve accumulated ‘enough’ money, with a goal line that keeps creeping out of reach for most.

In a world where there is so much literal and figurative noise, we keep listening for our kin. We are so grateful for those that continue to center these values, despite the systems that tries to force us into compromising them.

This week, we’ll launch a little addendum to our weekly newsletter - an audio addition to our writing. Inspired by the audio memos that our small team - Dorothy, Sam, and I - exchange each week, think of it as a very mini informal podcast, created to share some of the stories that come up in the process of putting our thoughts down each week.

Some of these will be solo dispatches, others might be a conversation between two people. But the shared goal is that stories sparks creativity and connection, the most pure fuel that you can find. In a world telling us there always needs to be more - and with limited resources, we must fight to get our share - we are more intent than ever to find the generous and generative magic, hiding in plain sight, and use our voices to illuminate it.

Tay + Dor

tidbits...

resources on anti-racism, environmentalism and food culture AKA stuff we’re reading / listening to / watching / noticing / thinking about / captivated by this Tuesday . . .

Do One Small Thing . . . do you have a small food or beverage business that is feeling the challenges of these times? We want to hear about your experience - you can reply to this newsletter, share in the comments, or email us at info@goodfoodjobs.com.

With deep grief, and deep gratitude, we acknowledge the passing of Wendell Berry (NYT gift link). We’ll collect our thoughts in next week’s newsletter.

Shaina from Cafe Mutton so eloquently encapsulates both the beauty and toil of running a restaurant in their latest dispatch, Filth.

We continue to be intrigued and inspired by Priya Parker’s evolution from The Art of Gathering to The Art of Fighting.

Everything is Political put together a critical analysis of what transpired in Nepal (and will happen elsewhere if the status quo persists).

Another work evolution that intrigues us: this time, via Becca Piastrelli.

The Anna Tasca Lanza Foundation - an off-shoot of the cooking school of the same name in Sicily - is offering scholarships for their flagship program, Cook the Farm. Open only to Northern California candidates - learn more and apply.

You need not be Jewish to engage with Zach Fredman’s high holiday services, this year’s centered around Plant Mysticism.

There is a new September date for the Imposing Beauty on Our Future Salon, with Sonya Renee Taylor, Prentis Hemphill, adrienne maree brown, and Alexis Pauline Gumbs in conversation. Attend virtually or in person at Owl Song Sanctuary in Siler City, North Carolina.

"When we are afraid, casting and trust and acts of goodness are radical acts." - Anne Lamott has some reflections on August, and three places to give - even in small amounts - to safeguard the coming elections.

For more Anne Lamott, read this beautiful interview on her new book, Somehow: Thoughts on Love, with Grace Yaconelli for BOMB Magazine.

Get your copy of Dorothy’s new book - online, from your favorite local bookstore, by asking your local library to carry it, or requesting it on the Libby app.

View and share this free guide to How to Write a More Equitable Job Post, and stay tuned for new resources to deepen this work.

got a tidbit? drop it here for us and we’ll share it in next week’s newsletter.