Doubt : Hope
And everywhere in between: people, places, and projects generating bold glimmers of powerful hope.
* A little housekeeping note for today’s letter and future issues: I’ve moved things over from Ghost to Substack. This shouldn't disrupt anything for you, but I wanted to mention it for transparency. Please let me know if you have any trouble accessing this content.••• A Brief Unfolding
I’ve found myself starting and restarting this new year several times, in the physical sense, yes—navigating the cracks that have settled into a previously (mostly) consistent routine of sleep, exercise, and general corporeal care. And also in the metaphysical sense—pursuing new (and revisiting trusted) ways of keeping my heart open amidst so much ongoing painful chaos.
Honestly, each morning when I first wake up, I am skeptical. I’m suspicious of how the day will unfold, I doubt the impact of whatever offering I might make—or work toward making—in the world. But as I find rhythm in the routine: brushing my teeth, making the bed, unloading the dishwasher, pouring the coffee, walking the dog—I revive small glimmers of hope.
Writing this newsletter, a newish practice gives me hope, even though starting it at all began with doubt and suspicion—mostly about myself and whether I could create something with consistency and resonance after experiencing severe burnout, but also as a method of self-protection. Starting something with skepticism makes it easier to stay small and subdued—makes it easier to avoid the bigness and loudness of hope.
So, I want to thank you, because you give me so much hope. I probably won’t stop doubting things; uncertainty and reservation is useful when it’s channeled toward curiosity and humility. But I will also welcome the expansiveness of hope—BIG, LOUD HOPE.
••• Glimmers of Hope
My wish for us this year is to have access to much bigger, lasting portions of hopefulness. In this letter, I want to tell you about people, places, and projects generating bold glimmers of powerful hope.
Hope Beyond the Veil
A beautiful podcast called Bury Me In New Jersey has been resurrected (yes, pun) and the timing couldn’t be more profound. Creator and host Sara Wuillermin crafts tender, fearless conversations about grief, death, love, and everything in between. In addition to listening (and subscribing!) to three seasons of past shows before the next season launches in March, I highly recommend spending time with Sara’s beautiful writing.
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I desperately hope I’m not the first person to tell you about The Telepathy Tapes, but if that’s the case, I am incredibly envious of you and the journey you’re about to take. There’s no way I can do justice to describing this show…exploration…phenomenon, so I’ll let the creators take the wheel:
In a world that often dismisses the extraordinary as mere fantasy, The Telepathy Tapes dares to explore the profound abilities of non-speakers with autism—individuals who have long been misunderstood and underestimated. These silent communicators possess gifts that defy conventional understanding, from telepathy to otherworldly perceptions, challenging the limits of what we believe to be real. For years, their parents and teachers have quietly witnessed these remarkable abilities, knowing that the time to share their truth would eventually come. But now, as the evidence mounts, the time has come to reveal what has been hidden in plain sight.
Listen anywhere you like to do your podcast thing, and learn more about the project here.
A Week’s Worth of Hope
In 2020, Annabel Wulfhart opened the Papermill Food Hub. Since then, together with a frankly unstoppable assembly of volunteers, delivers groceries, household necessities, and diapers to dozens of families every week. Yours truly is one of those volunteers and honestly I’ll be absolutely shocked if you’ve never heard me talk about this very truly impactful org. Currently it takes about $25 to serve a family each week, so, earnestly and shamelessly, I’m dropping the donation link here.
Work From Hope
Since my previous role ended at A Book Apart last summer, I’ve been slowly but steadily figuring out what comes next…or, now. Though I’m used to workdays requiring self-imposed structure and its accompanying permeability pitfalls, what I’m not used to is the absence of coworkers, or I guess more specifically, regularly interfacing with people with a shared hope.
I’ve been a (mostly) virtual member of a coworking community here in Philly since 2016, and I’m finally taking my introvert self over to their clubhouse across town every week. I get to help open up Indy Hall’s cozy, beautiful space on Fridays—literally opening the doors and making the first pot of coffee. It’s been life- and hope-giving. If you’re in or near Philly, you should stop by! If it’s Friday, you’ll very likely see me, plus, you can take advantage of Pay What You Wish Coworking. Or become a member from anywhere if you’re looking for a coworking community that “focuses on trust instead of ‘networking’.” < Yes to that.
Hope Takes Shape
I hope that if you’re making resolutions for the year, you’re being very kind and gentle with yourself—just because the calendar flipped to January, it doesn’t mean you’re obligated to become someone or something new. Now, if you’re longing to use the threshold of starting a new year as a moment to pause and renew or affirm your hopes and dreams, I AM WITH YOU. And so is my friend Malaika Carpenter, the brilliant and amazing founder of The Shine Brightly Crew. I couldn’t attend her inaugural SBC session focused on affirming dreams for the new year, so I’m very grateful that Malaika brought the workshop to her newsletter subscribers—and I really loved doing the hopework.
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I’m finally* reading Wintering by Katherine May. *Struck because fuck that—let’s agree that we’re not late to anything, we arrive in the time that it takes to arrive. And I have arrived to receive the medicine in this book.
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I’m also really looking forward to joining Winter Hours with Lama Rod Owens, a live, limited series podcast and “an exploration of what it means to honor the medicine of winter, a medicine that encourages us to slow down, rest, reflect, dream, and prepare for the call of spring awakening.”
sow, germinate, bloom
I am making offerings openly and abundantly. That’s one of the affirmations I wrote while doing Shine Brightly Crew’s hopework. So, here we go! I’m starting to offer workshops that support various stages of the writing process. The first one—sow—is an idea incubation workshop for writers, and it’s happening this month! To follow, germinate and bloom will roll out.
The first run of each workshop will have pilot pricing because I’m, er, piloting the program, if you will. (It’s a real nice price.) If you have a writing idea in need of care and development, I hope you’ll join me—and/or please pass along the info to folks who might be interested!