Looking Backwards, Looking Forwards (Slightly)

The year in review, mostly

On Lincolnville Beach, October 2023

I should have known when I started writing about hibernation in my last essay I would decide to hibernate myself. Silly me. I left off writing essay mid-December totally unexpectedly. I’m back now. (More on that another day.)

However hibernation, as I write in that essay, doesn’t mean a complete cessation of activity. And in the midst of my accidental hibernation from this platform, I weighed whether I would stay here on Substack and, if so, how. I made no firm plans. Winter isn’t time for that. But I did finally come up with a tagline for this newsletter that I’m happy with, which I think really summarizes what’s going on here, for you and for me.

Cyclical living in all its forms: body, sun, moon, and living world. A story in-progress, in the midst of collapse, in an ever-healing body. A journal, of sorts.

That’s more like it. Again, more on this another time.

I’m not making any grand plans for this year. Well, in my life I am but I’m keeping the strategizing for this newsletter to a minimum. I’m sinking deeper into cyclical and alternative ways of moving through life this year and I suspect that’ll bleed into my essays here too.

For now though, the year in review and what made my year:

The year in review:

I started off last year—and this Substack itself, because it is one year old this month—talking largely about cyclical living through the lens of menstruation and fertility awareness. Niche focus, but that’s what I wanted to do. I thought I would write here as I determine whether I might become a trained fertility awareness educator.¹

I widened my view in late May to include more cycles, all the cycles. No cycles left behind. I even got business cards with this temporary tagline “the future is cyclical” and mysterious put them around places.

I continued to work out my ideas about the future of cyclical living in this essay.

In the fall,

Rachel Katz

interviewed me about my experience with chronic illness. I was and am honored to be included in her Lady’s Illness Library project. As I’ve said before, please go read everything Rachel’s written.

Later, I found myself expanding on my story of chronic illness here.

I tried out audio recordings in this essay about the attention economy and my place in it. On the new moon in December, I decided I wasn’t interested in participating in special paid subscription content—or really making “content” at all—and that is in my essay on hibernation. These are themes I’ll likely expand on and, though I don’t know how popular that’ll be, it feels important to me.

I must also highlight this essay, where folks came together to create quite a wonderful list of fiction reading recommendations. If you’re in need of a novel, check the comments.

Some things that made my year

Sophie Strand

. I read all the Sophie Strand I could get my hands on and also listened to so many podcasts with her because her voice is calming, reassuring. Her perspectives are exquisitely off the beaten path. Her work reconfigured parts of my brain and heart.

Caliban and the Witch by Silvia Federici. No single book this year changed my perspective like this one. I can’t recommend it enough. For reasons I can’t explain, I choose to take it on summer vacation.

Hannah Gadsby and

Katherine May

. I must give a huge thank you to both of these fine folks. In drips and drabs, I got the memo this year that I’m autistic.² Gadsby and May lit the way for me. They made me feel slightly less alone, which is a new sensation. They gave me language for what has long been a tangled cacophony in my brain. I would recommend both of their interviews on the We Can Do Hard Things podcast. May’s autism resources is a link saved in the favorites section of web browser. Also, no one makes me laugh like Hannah Gadsby and goodness did I need a laugh this year.

My bodywork therapist. She reads these letter sometimes. If you’re reading today, Julie, thank you thank you thank you. My world would still be so dark and confusing without your helping hand(s) and patient, inquisitive heart. You are a gem.

I’ve shared it before but I’ll share it again: go read The Friendship Problem by Rosie Sprinks on

What Do We Do Now That We're Here?

. I wandered lonely through this year, quite angry and afraid about the state of my social life and community. It was like Rosie transcribed my thoughts and went hunting for answers to all my questions. I can’t say I’m hugely less lonely now but I understand what’s going on more.

These brilliant writers, among others:

Kat Farrell-Davis

,

Lindsey Melden

,

Chris La Tray

, (again)

Rachel Katz

,

D.L. Mayfield

,

Asia Suler

,

Jessica Valenti

, and

Nadia Bolz-Weber

. And the one I make a social media exception for because I love her poetry too much: Noël Ruth.

Stories of people leaving Instagram and social media. They give me hope. I’ve started compiling them in my resources page.

Daisy Jones and the Six. There. I said it. It’s true. I loved it, and the Aurora album. It’s been on repeat since the spring.

Birds. This is the year I fell in love with birds. I began learning to know them and their songs. I am the lady who runs out of her house barefoot in December to observe a bird and I often have binoculars at the ready. The Merlin birdsong app from Cornell was a revelation.

Lastly, Maine. I must give the north lands their due. I had the gift of being there three times this year, in three different seasons, and that of course shaped me. A nod to Chase’s Daily too, because that featured highly in my year. Please stay open Chase’s (IYKYK).

Oh and you, kind reader. Thank you for being here. 💙

1. Which didn’t go quite to plan, if there was a plan. I don’t mean to keep putting this off, but more on that too another day/time!

2. Something which I haven’t written about at all since it landed like a puzzle piece fallen into place. It feels so good and right and new and old all at once that I find myself feeling no desire to write about it just now. I’m living it and quite happy to do so.