Hello, my friend.
I know that I owe you an apology. Something about going through more than a year of on-and-off shutdowns and cancellations still has me getting back on the horse of holding to my commitments. Especially, of course, those I make to my personal projects (like this newsletter.) I find myself, unceremoniously and without warning, walking away from projects and engagements mid-process. This doesn’t just extend to this newsletter. It extends to paintings, conversations over text with folks back home, plays and books I begin writing…
I never thought I could lose my sense of the importance and preciousness of personal and artistic commitments in this way, honestly. It amazes me, the way my mind and spirit have become so accustomed to leaving half-finished things lying around (in both my external and internal space).
I am actually baffled when I suddenly remember something I left unfinished, without explanation for my absence (like this newsletter) days, weeks, or months after the leaving. I often realize I had no thought that letting anyone know I was going to step away for a moment might be necessary. It’s like these things disappear.
Does anyone else experience this, in this “post-pandemic” age? Is this something that is, in fact, novel to my post-COVID brain, or have I grafted the pandemic onto my experience as an excuse for something I’ve always done? How many times have I/we asked my/ourselves this kind of question in the past two years?
Anyway, in the true spirit of this newsletter, I would like to return (if I may) to your inbox. Again, again, to the breath.
Additionally, in the spirit of wintering, and following the lead of many of my dear ones writing installment-based public writing: for the foreseeable future, please expect monthly installments of again, again in your inbox.
what i’m working on:
I’ve recently begun teaching theatre! It has been a welcome breath of air to return to the medium I worked and trained in for a decade, and to return to it in a way that allows me to show up as I am. I found, when seeking work and working as a professional actor, I spent a majority of my energy thinking about policing my body (tattoos, weight, haircut, even tans and sunburns) and my personality (how to be accepted in an industry that relied largely on social connection to get started, and whose medium hinged on using the self as an artistic tool). As a teacher, I get to pass along the pieces of theatre that have fed me, and I get to have my body and self at the same time.
I’m teaching a devised theatre class for middle schoolers at the moment, and it is giving me incredible human, artistic, and dharmic insight with each class. Expect more reflections on this moving forward!
Paintings! These are going slower after an extremely busy beginning of the year for me, but paintings are still on the website and for sale! I’ll hopefully be posting more content soon, and getting ecommerce up to speed in the springtime. Please continue to reach out directly if you’re interested in a piece you see, or want to collaborate or commission!
what i’m reading:
On Freedom by Maggie Nelson— I finished this book over the course of many weeks. Maggie is my favorite author, and I was on this one for a while because it was quite dense, and not needlessly. In On Freedom, Nelson’s mission seems to be complicating the conversation around the idea of “Freedom” as a whole, in four main areas: Art, Sex, Drugs, and Climate Change. She offers incredibly nuanced ideas, intricately researched criticism of other thinkers, and personal anecdotes to explore the topics. This is not the kind of book you pick up to feel vindicated or validated. This is the kind of book you pick up as an opportunity to truly expand your worldview, and either find a new perspective, or return to your original perspective with new understanding of how it serves you amidst other voices.
Odes to Lithium by Shira Erlichman— this collection of poems has been heralding me through my mornings, lately. Erlichman explores her experience with lithium, her internal and external battles with it as an aid and an enemy. Poems are presented as a nonlinear narrative that poses moments of celebratory self-acceptance up against moments of denial and stubbornness, and I find this combination beautifully healing and cathartic. Especially during this cold, dark time of year in Seattle, poetry that softens my view of my darker parts is a welcome companion.
That’s all for this one. See you next time!