Hey friends. What a year this week has been….and it’s not even Friday.
I don’t have anything novel or profound to say, no hot takes or key insights, and definitely no next steps to lay out. I am not hear to rally you.
This tiny corner of the internet holds such a kind-hearted community. So I guess I wanted to write today to say hi and remind you that you’re not alone. I’m here and so are so many of you who also care about cooking, taking care of each other, feeling good in our bodies, and creating community.
With all of that in mind, I wanted to tell you a few things I’ve been thinking about the last few days just as a way for me to (a) process my own thoughts and (b) maybe one of these things on this list makes you feel a little less alone? I’d love to hear what you’re thinking about. What’s on your mind today? How are you holding up?
Some of things that are on my mind:
I went to help out at Long Season Farm for a little bit today. It was really nice to be outside with people who care about growing things. I like being around things like animals, trees, and plants that have no idea what’s going on but continue to go on. Here’s a peaceful moment from the purple broccoli patch:
Speaking of Long Season, for years now I have been taking whatever produce they don’t sell at their weekly markets and bringing it to our local food pantry. I like connecting these dots and being part of something so tangible. I’m mentioning this because I think it’s nice to remember that community care can look like all sorts of things, even a station wagon full of vegetables going from one spot to another. While it would be great if our government and institutions took care of us and protected all of us, that feels more unreliable and tenuous than ever. Community care is never not an answer. When the country, not to mention the whole world, just feels so fraught and huge, I like to think about my zip code. My neighbors. My community. What are ways I need their support? What are ways I can offer mine? If I stretch my arms as wide as they go, who can I touch?
I have a Post-It on my computer with a note I wrote to myself that simply says: “Maybe it’s grief?” A lot of my personal work in therapy has been identifying my feelings and often when I’m feeling upset about something, there’s grief underneath the upset. I like having the question nearby to remind myself to ask that. Sometimes when I realize that what I’m feeling is actually grief, it helps me just sit in it and honor it. So I offer that to you: maybe it’s grief?
Speaking of both community care and grief, I took the University of Vermont’s End-of-Life Doula certificate course last year and the things we learned and talked about have really changed the way I think not just about grief and dying, but about living. Maybe because I’ve been feeling grief over what happened in this election, I found myself reflecting on the course when I woke up this morning and looked through some of my old notes. Here’s some stuff I thought worth sharing:
Often the most meaningful thing you can do is just sit with someone in comfortable quiet
Our work is to companion each other and know every stage of life deserves dignity
From In the Service of Life by Rachel Naomi Remen (Noetic Sciences Review, 1996): “Serving is different from helping. Helping is based on inequality; it is not a relationship between equals. When you help you use your own strength to help those of lesser strength. . .But we don't serve with our strength, we serve with ourselves. We draw from all of our experiences. Our limitations serve, our wounds serve, even our darkness can serve. The wholeness in us serves the wholeness in others and the wholeness in life. The wholeness in you is the same as the wholeness in me. Service is a relationship between equals. Helping incurs debt. When you help someone they owe you one. But serving, like healing, is mutual. There is no debt. I am as served as the person I am serving. When I help I have a feeling of satisfaction. When I serve I have a feeling of gratitude. These are very different things.”
I have Ada Limón’s poem ‘Miracle Fish’ taped on one of my bookshelves next to my desk. It’s one of my favorites and I think it’s worth reading all of the time, but especially today:
There’s a lot I love about this poem, but I guess what’s hitting home today is remembering the “massive ocean” inside of each of us, and the force of so many oceans. I like thinking that just by living, we keep our oceans going. We do not let them drain. I guess what I am trying to say is that even when millions of people vote for people and policies that are actively harmful, there is so much in us that is untouchable. And it’s okay if those parts feels tender and vulnerable right now. Oh and of course I love Limón’s invitation/ permission to play. I love that she reminds us that the boundary between the sacred and the playful is arbitrary and that play is, in fact, sacred. “But I swear I will play on this blessed earth until I die.” I think a lot about being a proud, out queer person in the world and the way queer love and joy — queer play — is itself a righteous act of resistance.
Last night I taught a private online cooking class that I scheduled with a library months ago not quite realizing it was on the evening after the election. I definitely felt torn on whether or not we should postpone, but I showed up and so did everyone else and we did one of my favorite things in the world: we all cooked at the same time. We were together and we did something with our hands and we made food to sustain ourselves and the people we love. Of course that’s not everything, but it’s not nothing.
Want to cook with me this Sunday? Just hang out together on Zoom and make some good food and do something tangible with a group of people but not actually have to be in person with anyone? Help me raise some money for the Transgender Law Center and the Trans Justice Funding Project, both of which are doing important, life-saving legal and economic work that is more important than ever?
»»»»»» Sign up for class right here «««««« »»»»»» Sign up for class right here ««««««
I will be giving proceeds from this class to the Transgender Law Center, the “largest national trans-led organization advocating self-determination for all people. Since 2002 we’ve been organizing, assisting, informing and empowering thousands of individual community members towards a long-term, national, trans-led movement for liberation” and also to the Trans Justice Funding Project which gives direct cash grants to QTBIPOC trans organizers across the country.
If you want to join and money is a barrier, as always just get in touch and we’ll work something out. Everyone is welcome.
Yes, I will offer thoughts in class for various substitutions/variations including a non-alcoholic drink, a vegetarian version of the pasta, a gluten-free version of the pasta, etc.
Want to sign up but can’t attend live? You’ll get the recording of class the same day!
All right friends. Hang in there. I’m here with you. xoxoxoxo
Thank you Julia, for the work you do. I've been thinking of some words from Adrienne Rich, "There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep and still be counted as warriors." I have needed to reach for my "those" this week, while we grieve, and before we can regroup.
Like millions I am grieving the outcome of this election. I think the hardest thing is realizing that we are not the country I thought we were. The worst of the worst has been chosen to be the highest leader in the land, and that is just not acceptable. But thank you for your positive spirit and activism, Julia. I have spent most of today in the kitchen, and that feels good. Onward...hopefully! 💪🏼