Alchemical

Mysterious, magnificent, and magical means for achieving alchemy. Also, soufflés.

••• A Brief Unfolding

For a while now I’ve had what I suppose feels like writer’s block. Even though I agree with Ocean Vuong, when in an interview with Krista Tippet, he said:

I don’t think writer’s block is real. I think it’s the mythos of capitalism, that you’re always supposed to be producing — this anxiety of being productive, and quantifying your self-worth through page counts and word counts.

When I’m coaching folks through writing, it’s easy to look at the situation objectively and offer reassurance that blocks—whether born from deadline pressures, procrastination, or world weariness—will come and go. That the whole process, including slowdowns, lulls, and full-on standstills, is natural. And that just like everything natural, so too are the ebbs and flows—the seasons—of any creative being. When I’m supporting someone else, all I see are possibilities, options, pathways opening up for exploration.

It’s harder when I’m working on my own. When I’m holed up in my head, thinking way too much, and winding up in the same place time and again, I can’t easily access objectivity or that sense of possibility. Instead I fall resentfully into the tedious trap of feeling unworthy, because I can’t just work through it and create. Because I can’t seriously think I should share any of it. And while my current block isn’t ruled by reaching a specific word count, it generally distorts my sense of self-worth.

Maybe there’s an easy way to circumvent all of this; the unworthiness trap isn’t even real. I mean, ok, capitalism is real and thus by virtue so is a conditioning that we’ve got to produce, and market, and package anything and everything in order to be seen as valuable, deserving, significant. In this mindset it’s compelling to seek out hacks and bypasses to alleviate the misery of working through a block.

Caterpillars don’t life-hack their way to becoming a butterfly. (Sorry! Well-worn metaphors are overused for a reason.) And “metamorphosis” is a beautiful word we use to describe a kind of repulsive and harrowing process. Sure, maybe the caterpillar doesn’t elect to take on this endeavor, but when it does, it innately knows what to do. It has no other choice than to accept the period of transmutation and tune into what is most needed to bear the experience.

So, what if there’s some essential magic in being with the unease? Even more than magic, maybe there’s remedy.

What if I loved and cared for the exasperation in feeling creatively stalled? I know I have the instinctive guidance to do so coded deeply within my bones. You do, too. Perhaps the bravest approach—the one that creates more meaningful movement—is to shamelessly, and repeatedly, give wide birth to each impasse we encounter and examine what it actually needs from us. Or better, what we need from it. If we invite it in instead of straining against it, it becomes part of a creative cycle in which each slowdowns and stall transforms into flexibility and fortitude to keep going.

••• Let’s Get Alchemical

From Merriam-Webster’s definition of Alchemy: “a power or process that changes or transforms something in a mysterious or impressive way.” WELL OK THEN. Let’s get right to these mysterious, magnificent, and magical means for achieving alchemy.

Creative Alchemy

THIS MOVIE MUST LIVE!

True story, beneath Washington Square, an urban park in Philadelphia, lie buried the bodies of hundreds of enslaved people. What if, one night, they all came back as zombies, but they only ate white people?

That’s the premise of White Meat, a feature-length movie David Dylan Thomas—Philly speaker, author, and podcast host—is determined to make. You can help make it a reality by backing the White Meat: Appetizer Kickstarter. Bonus: you’d also be supporting the project’s manifesto, created explicitly to address abuses of labor.

YOU’RE IN THIS STORY

If you’re thinking of writing a memoir, first of all, you should. Second, a new friend and writing expert is hosting a workshop to support you! Join Ally Berthiaume this Friday, Feb 21, to try Turning Yourself Into a Character in Memoir—it’s just one hour and only $25 to reserve a spot!

LOVING BETTER

Poet, meditator, and speaker, Yung Pueblo, has a new book coming out next month and I am really, really looking forward to reading it. The book is called How to Love Better, and includes writing on things like “how to heal from heartbreak,” and “how to argue.” ❤︎

Atmospheric Alchemy

I’ve been getting turned on to some real gems-of-things through the various newsletters I subscribe to. Here are a few of my recent favorites:

• Dinner Music. A twice a week, this newsletter includes an album that’s great for cooking dinner or a post-work cool down. Think: Nancy Sinatra, 1950s Palm Springs, Parisian balconies, Plantasia.

• Silentium. Simply, your guide to silence in a newsletter. Daily posts on themes of interior silence—meditation, contemplation, silent prayer, stillness, and quiet moments. For all faiths.

• The Five. A weekly newsletter from storyteller and podcaster, Hillary Rea—in which she shares five words and the stories behind them.

Moving with Alchemy

“I’m embracing perimenopause and thriving through it!” is a thing I’d love to say. I’m only kind of fumbling around it, but I’m also learning a lot about my body—like how, now, it needs movement that is less high-impact but more strength-building. Pre-perimenopause, I was a runner who needed motivational power ballads. Now I look forward to intentional, low-impact exercise, entranced by instructor Lia Bartha, who’s been described as the Bob Ross of fitness.

I started exploring B the Method in 2022 and have followed it since. Here is my big testimonial: I have heard the phrase “use your core” in fitness environments for eleventy-three years and not once have I ever really understood what that meant. Now I do.

Soufflé: mostly cheese and magic

Please admire this soufflé I made during a recent visit with a few friends. Along with grating piles of gruyere cheese and offering company while I nervously stirred the béchamel sauce, one of those friends, Anne, was almost certainly the alchemical reason our soufflé…souffled.

I, an impatient cook, am prone to frequently opening pot lids and oven doors in order to supervise progress. I know this isn’t a good practice, I promise I’m working on it. As our giant cheese puff progressed, I’d frequently approach the oven (just to look through the window!) and I would hear Anne’s voice—“don’t open it!!” Still keeping vigil, I’d step away and chew on a fingernail. When the kitchen timer finally sounded, Anne and I cautiously cracked open the oven door—it was looking good!—but the center still needed a touch more time and the edges were in danger of burning. “Tin foil!” Anne exclaimed, and we scrambled to tear off a sheet and swiftly place it on top of the puff.

After exactly three minutes more, we gently extracted the soufflé, smiling at each other in mutual validation. Whether Jacques Pepin (and his maman) would approve or not (we’d like to think they would), it was wildly delicious, completely devoured, and very impressive for the effort.