And now we are four

Happy birthday!

Today, my lovelies, our little community is four years old.

As of yesterday, also I’m 53! Which makes this picture very, very old.

I’ve been thinking about the number four, which is associated, if we want to get esoteric for a moment, with manifestation, or the bringing of ideas and dreams into form. It’s the cross, as in being nailed to, but also like X marks the spot.

Everything is a little ephemeral and internal until we get to four. One is, by definition, singular and a beginning. Two introduces duality and separation– this but not that, me and not me. Three stabilizes and balances. There’s nothing more stable than a three-legged table. A four-legged table will always tend (back?) toward the stasis of three legs. That’s where the wobble comes in.

Four is the wobble. The negotiation. When we all pull up to the intersection at the same time, who goes first? And second? Third? Fourth? Because out here in the shared world, we can’t all go at the same time. Yet, we all need to get wherever it is we’re going.

Four is being here, in this shared time and place, with all its complications and contradictions.

Four is figuring out what to do with all of it.

Four years ago, my daily life looked very different than it does now and my conception of this project was also different. I was more concerned with a traditional definition of integrity and how to live a moral life. I imagined there were clear answers and rules, reliable recipes where this always leads to that. I thought my job was to share those recipes with you.

Perhaps it’s obvious to say so, but our current political landscape here in the U.S. has thrown that sense of rules, consequences, and the idea that what Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. called the “arc of justice” inevitably proceeds in an ascending line straight out the window.

I mean, what the hell are we supposed to do with this chaotic, indecipherable, scrambled shitshow? Do you know? I don’t.

But that’s the reality of four for you. And what little I know about the lesson of four is that it’s a necessary step. It forces us to stop, get fully oriented, assess the tools we have on hand, and take stock of the players. We can’t get fixated on what we wish reality was or what we hope it might be someday. We have to deal with what it is right now, in this place, with these conditions and these people. Then we can get to work.

What is the work, exactly? Your answer to that is yours, based on your path to this moment. My answer, as impractical as it may sound, is to make space for softness, tenderness, mercy, and connection in every negotiation in which I find myself. Those are things I have historically shied away from, figured I couldn’t afford, or weren’t the most important. But I’ve now reached a point in my life where I know they’re the only things that can keep me whole in a world that would much prefer I cut myself up into pieces and leave the inefficient, non-monetizable, vulnerable, human pieces by the wayside.

Integrity comes from the same root as the word for whole numbers, integer, so wholeness– in myself, my relationships, and my community– is now the primary focus of my integrity practice. Who am I, honestly and entirely? What am I bringing to the table? What needs and proclivities do I have that help or hinder me and my ability to show up with and for others?

Who are we, truly? Where are we, honestly? What combined stock of tools do we have to meet this moment together? What must be negotiated so we can get where we need to go individually and collectively without doing each other irreparable damage?

And if we do damage each other, intentionally or no, then what happens? How do we repair and return to each other?

As we move into this fifth year together, these are the questions that are consuming me, so that’s what I’ll be chewing on here. I hope you’ll continue to join me at the table and we can pull it all apart together.

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Here’s what else is up for negotiation in my creative life. Back in the early fall, I told you all that I needed to back away from writing weekly essays to focus on finishing the first draft of my book. That was a good decision, and I’m proud to report that as of December 31, 2024, the first draft is done.

All 42 sections, 291 pages, and 87,742 pages of it. Phew!

Now, I realize I’ve built a forest of words and stories. My next task is to figure out where the best place is to enter that forest, and what the clearest path is through it. I’m wrestling with the structure of the narrative arc, in other words, and I’ve never done such a thing on this scale, so it’s still going to require a tremendous amount of creative attention.

For the foreseeable future, I’ll still be publishing one new essay a month, and otherwise pointing you towards my earlier work or other people’s that I hope will be of use. I’m also considering hosting a monthly Zoom gathering for my paying folks because like I said, I want to always bring connection to the table. Or maybe I’ll just record a video check-in to share with that more intimate group, on my book and life, that’s a little more vulnerable and live-action than is otherwise possible here.

Would you come to a monthly gathering? Or want to receive a video missive? Let me know. Or just subscribe. You choose.

I’m looking forward to spending 2025 together, friends. I suspect we’ll need each other more than ever.

XO,

Asha