Endings and Beginnings

And here we are again and again

Hello, friends. How are you surviving the season? I am still here, which some days feels like enough of an accomplishment to make a note of, honestly.

Life has been feeling excessively… life-y of late. So many bright colors, enormous feelings, and sharp edges. Mostly other people’s clearly defined edges, as opposed to my own. I have to stay very awake to manage it all, and I’m not, historically, all that good at constant wakefulness. The presence necessary often feels like that scene from A Clockwork Orange (a movie I find so unpleasant I’ve never watched in its entirety) where, if memory serves, someone is strapped to a chair, their eyelids held open by metal clamps. Forgive me if I’m misremembering some other terrifying film.

It’s not that it’s actually torture, my life. But for someone who has historically depended on any number of off-ramping behaviors (drugs, drinking, cigarettes, binge eating, emotional drama) to titer the intensity of moving through the world with no skin on, being fully present and consistently open-hearted (in other words, both unguarded and sober)? It’s like accidentally getting on an express mystery train. I don’t know where I’ll end up, what might happen between here and wherever there is, and there’s no getting off. It’s just an endless, unknowable, right-up-in-your-face kind of ride.

At the same time, I feel increasingly clear that this is where the kind of life I want to be living and the kind of art I want to be creating happens, and where all good things begin. On this unstoppable, vibrant express train. And I’m grateful you’re all on it with me, whether it is just here on Substack or to any extent in my face-to-face life. It is what makes submitting to the ride possible, knowing I am surrounded on the journey with such good company.

Thank you. Truly, truly, thank you.

Photo by Christian Lue on Unsplash

Now! It being the last newsletter of the year, there’s wrapping up to do. If you’ve been here since the beginning, none of this will be new to you. But if you’ve joined us in the last year perhaps you’ll find something you missed, or be reminded why you joined us in the first place. Onward!

Newsletters published: 55

After a couple of years of publishing twice a week, I took a full-time day job at the local university and found that publishing only once a week was necessary, with a couple of weeks off for vacation. Then, in September, I started a special project on ambition for my paying folks. That’s two more newsletters per month (yes, I know. I still owe you all December’s missives. Did I mention the express train?).

Words written: 79,701

This isn’t a number that’s particularly important to anyone but me, honestly. But it is one I add up, laboriously, every year. Why? One, so I can fully appreciate the dedication that those of you who stick with me, opening every single newsletter edition, offer. It’s huge! A whole book’s worth of faithfulness! The second reason is that I do want to write an actual book and reminding myself that I’ve already written three books worth of words over the course of this newsletter’s not-so-illustrious life assures me I can.

Most read newsletter!

The same week I saw the Barbie movie, Sinead O’Connor died. The connections between the two might not seem obvious to some, but I was honestly shocked no one had made the connection. So, I made it:

I don’t know how old I was when my mother, after what felt like years of pleading, finally relented and bought me a Barbie doll— Ballerina Barbie, to be exact. What I do know is it took less than 24 hours after I pulled her out of the box for me to break her neck over my abusive brother’s head. I remember my incredible angst and regret so palpably. Not that I'd hit him hard enough to snap her neck (he deserved it), but that the reality of my life had so quickly intruded on my perfect Barbie dreams. Barbie, as much as I yearned for her saccharine simplicity, was never going to be able to survive in the real, complicated world of this girl.

Most opened newsletter!

Do you ever have that experience where you look at a word you’ve known all your life and think, But what does it mean? I had a similar experience one day, confronted with the phrase “the pursuit of happiness”. So, I went in search of the phrase’s meaning and found a surprising link to integrity. And the highest percentage of you all year found it with me.

Sometimes I feel like my whole adult life has been an exercise in grappling with this notion of hedonism (of which, honestly, I’m a huge fan) versus eudaimonia. And maybe that makes sense, because understanding the different outcomes that arise from immediate gratification versus delayed gratification requires a certain accumulation of experience. By which I mean, screwing up repeatedly yet not dying.

For me, anyway, it’s taken decades of trial and (a lot of) error. Not to learn to turn away from pleasure, which is one of the payoffs of living in a body, but instead to appreciate it’s role. Sensual pleasure can bring us into the present moment. It can ground us when we’re anxiously spinning. It can inspire feelings of awe and gratitude and joy. But it can’t fix the circumstances of our lives when they’re broken, or change habits or systems that undermine our flourishing.

My favorites!

Lots of you read each of these, but, in the end, the notable thing is I just liked them the most. And if you missed them, you should check them out because I think you’ll appreciate them, too.

My mom grew up in Memphis, TN and I spent a fair amount of time there as a kid. So, when Tyre Nichols was killed there in January of this year it felt personal. Will we ever stop killing black and brown people through the hands of our police? Not if we don’t interrogate the connection between actions and beliefs. We can say we believe in the value of all life, but if we don’t act that way— personally and systemically— what do we believe, in truth?

Poet and essayist Ross Gay is one of my absolute favorites. I had the chance to meet him and hear him speak at the university where I work back in February and it was a deeply moving experience. It’s also the last time I added audio to a newsletter. Should I do more of that? I’m thinking about how to add that to the weekly offering consistently in 2024.

And now, for some brief words on our Nazi problem…

A few weeks ago, you all received a copy of a letter to Substack’s founders regarding their decision to platform Nazis and give them the means to raise money. Their response has been, if not surprising, deeply disappointing. Basically, their capitalist ambitions are being draped in free-speech protection, but it’s a thin and tattered veil.

I have several colleagues here at Substack who are planning to decamp to less hateful pastures and I respect their choice. For me, however, it’s not unlike choosing to immigrate because you can, which just leaves everyone without the privilege to go holding the (hateful, oppressive) bag. I’m choosing to stay for now and fight to make sure this is a safe place for everyone. The best articulation of this strategy is laid out in Anne Helen Peterson’s excellent piece on the matter.

However, we all get to choose where our money goes. I also absolutely respect if you don’t want your money going to a company that enables Nazis. So, if you want to end your paid subscription, I’ll understand. If you need me to comp you instead, let me know. Or, you can do what my mom does (Thank you, mom!) because she refuses to pay anything online— you can send me a check. Venmo and PayPal are also an option. That way, Substack misses out on their cut.

That’s a wrap, everyone! Again, thank you for being here, however much or little you find the time. It is a privilege to be part of your lives and to be in conversation together.

Happy New Year!

Photo by Cristian Escobar on Unsplash