evolving commitments

shifts in my commitments to work, creative output, and this newsletter

these yummies are on the way to the mailbox of one of my paid subscribers

There’s something entirely liberating about having just enough of a health incident that you stop and re-think everything you’re doing without needing to suffer a totally derailing event.

As I wrote about last week, I experienced a little neurological thing, a TIA, which has left absolutely no lasting impacts but which was startling enough to stop me in my hurtling tracks so I could say, what the hell am I doing.

Here’s what I was doing.

I was working my ass off. But there’s two things to understand about that, if you’re so inclined: one, my carrying capacity is much lower than that of other bodywork practitioners I know, and therefore I have this constant narrative muttering along in my brain that tells me again and again that I’m coming up short; and two, my work is my divine right work, the best and only work there is for me.

Oh, and I don’t know anyone else who does quite what I do. There’s that too.

(For those who don’t know, I help people heal their fried nervous systems and to allow space for more of themselves, manually through massage and energetically through BodyTalk.)

Anyway somehow I got it in my head that I was indispensable and so I ignored repeated and ever-louder signals that I had to restructure the way I’m doing my days.

And it’s true: I already had a flexible, satisfying, tailor-made, well-compensated work life, the very essence of privilege, which paradoxically is another setup for compare-and-despair, in this case saying to myself: it’s not like you’re coal mining, what are you squawking about?

But as I talk about all the time, the body has its own agenda. And my body’s agenda is, at least for now, to direct my energy flow towards some of the things I’ve been wanting to create, and to withdraw (again, for now) from doing quite as much direct healing work. It’s almost like: the call is to expand my healing work. Moving from the laser-focused, intense energy exchange that characterizes a BodyTalk session, toward more of the diffuse, far-reaching light of making something that can cover more ground.

As I said: for now.

Having redirected my time and energy somewhat, I am officially recommitting to this newsletter.

My commitment is to post one essay here each month, crafted to stir the essence of your creative spirit and to remind you that you’re not alone on this human journey.

Of course, unlike other email lists I’ve maintained, Substack has a paid element. I can’t tell you what an honor it is when people choose to become paid subscribers, but it also has literally kept me up nights trying to work out how to say thank you. And I came up with a great answer!

For the time being, new annual subscribers ($50) will be the delighted recipients of a hand-gathered paper arts pack, which may include such tidbits as a handmade art journal, collage supplies, or tiny original art. A scrumptious package in the mail!

And first-time monthly paid subscribers will receive an original art postcard, suitable for framing and hanging above the mantel.

AND OF COURSE you don’t have to be a paid subscriber for me to value you. Your time is so valuable. Your attention is valuable. Your replies mean everything to me. When you comment on or share an essay that gives me pure butterflies. This is why I don’t intend to paywall any of my essays. Because I’m not in this for the profit motive, like, at all.

My hope every time I write is that you’ll see yourself in me. In the mucking about, trying to find my way, like hopping hummock to hummock through a swamp. Every now and then I misstep, but boy has it been an interesting journey.

Between essays and my reduced bodywork schedule, I’ll be reporting in from working in my studio (paintings and art journals, mostly), getting my gardens going, teaching BodyTalk Access (a self-care system that upgrades your body and brain), and planning a summertime art journal mini retreat in the Cascades.

You know, the juicy creative stuff.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my bodywork life. I love my clients (if you’re one of them, hi!). But the more spins I make around the sun the more I’ve come to respect the limitations of living in three dimensions, with a neurodivergent brain and a complicated history.

Making something exist that didn’t exist before is a pure elixir to my spirit. I hope that what I create will be its own kind of service. But isn’t it a service to be who we are? And isn’t swimming in deep creativity a surefire way to experiment with what exactly that is? And isn’t the high frequency, expansive, lush experience of making what only we can make a beacon that draws love down into this planet and radiates outward, leaving all of us a little more restored? I think so. I’m committed to that.