ISSUE NO. 757

CHANGE...

Why is it the hardest thing? One of my theories on why change is so hard is because...it's a confrontation with death.

This might sound extreme, but grief has taught me that there are all different kinds of death, and one of them is darkness. In childhood, this is represented by the difficulty of surrendering to sleep: the darkness is the literal separation of ourselves from consciousness, and from the loved ones who watch over that consciousness. In adulthood, darkness is otherwise known as uncertainty, or the unknown. 


As I prepare to make a change, I can feel almost reckless with the uncertainty of it all. It's a feeling conjured by the 2018 documentary, Free Solo, (which impacted me so much I wrote a poem about it). My fear of heights is so intense, I felt vertigo just watching that film on a regular size movie screen. Although I have neither the interest or the skill in free soloing - i.e. climbing alone without any ropes or safety gear - I often return in my mind to the intensity of such a confrontation with mortality, with faith, and with trust.

I'm usually the type to say that real life is scary enough - I don't need to watch a horror film or ride a roller coaster to get my thrills - but there is also a limit to the healthy caution that fear lends us. A risk of limiting ourselves, keeping ourselves small. It's often hard for me to tell whether I'm in a healthy state of fear, or an imprisoning one.

Even when there is no risk of mortality involved in a change, risk-taking can inspire extremes of feeling. I was reminded this week that risk-taking, as a form of confronting our fear, doesn't have to be about hanging on by our finger pads to a cliff's edge. Risk-taking can be accompanied by gentleness.

For me, this means an approach to being in the darkness that embraces faith in all that we can and cannot see...acknowledges our interconnectivity with others...and also connects with our inner truth - a sense of knowing that I was raised on through the language of 'instinct,' often referred to as 'gut.'

That inner knowing is the part of us that can never be broken, or taken away. We keep it with us in the darkness, and carry it through the uncertainty. Even when we take a big leap, we keep that part of ourselves intact.

As we've listened to ourselves and to this community over the past weeks, we are preparing to make a change by adding a membership platform for community interaction. We've already begun to make some small changes (see updates on two of those below)...and we have more change and uncertainty ahead. Swimming in those possibilities, I pulled a card from a deck that feature's lines from one of my favorite poets, Lucille Clifton. It read: "may you kiss the wind then turn from it."

I've been puzzling over what it means. In the context of change, confronting the death-like fear of uncertainty, I think it is a blessing for us to know the source of creation is change, as it is life, as it is death. The transformation process is a great love story, as is our surrender to it, as is our vulnerability and powerlessness as we kiss the wind and turn to shelter in the path we were meant to take.

Some updates from last week...


/ Our What to Make for Dinner spreadsheet, a co-created space for readers to share weeknight dinner ideas (or tap into an infusion of inspiration from others), has 30+ entries so far, and you can help it grow.

2 / Bookworms - or those looking for a gift for a bookworm - can browse our very own 'book shop' through their affiliate program. Every selection has been read by one or both of us. We'll be updating it regularly with new titles, including things we mention here in the newsletter.


Transforming together, 

Dor + Tay

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 . . . tell us: does the above definition of knowing - aka 'instinct' or 'gut' - resonate as familiar? If so, what do you call yours?

"October is about rediscovering our homes, making cozy nests for the winter to come." - another beautiful Seasonal Slice from Gina and Giulia in Copenhagen.

Maria Pinto will be at Oblong Books in Rhinebeck on November 6 to talk about Fearless, Sleepless, Deathless: What Fungi Taught Me about Nourishment, Poison, Ecology, Hidden Histories, Zombies and Black Survival.

Don't miss the beautiful song in this newsletter from Fruition Seeds.

The Modern Elder Academy's workshops and programs are designed to give you the tools, practices, and support to navigate midlife challenges and thrive in the second half of life. 


"So investment in our work—or in anything—is not just about money, or capacity as I was told in high school. Investment is about trust and belief. Investment is about relationships and risk. Even if it doesn’t work out, belief changes the conversation and moves you closer to your goal. Investment is but a belief in someone’s idea of the future that creates shared prosperity. A belief in their story." - Abigail Oduol on changing the narrative of philanthropy as charity, for Community-Centric Fundraising

Perdita Finn on accessing the healing power of the dead beneath our feet.

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.

"Plenty has been written about the economic impact of the pandemic on the food industry, but not enough about its lingering effects on the bodies of people whose mission is to nourish us." Read the latest GFJ Story on the creator behind Anjali's Cup, with words by Nicole J. Caruth and photos by Christine Han.


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