Rebranding announcement: I have stumbled into my next groove. This newsletter will now be weekly, it will be a little more poetic, and it will be delivered to your tiny little imaginary inbox doors on Saturday mornings.
Why? Well, I’ve always loved Saturdays. I was born on one, I’m told, though who can be sure these days!
Saturdays are me, at rest. This is how they were when I was very young. They were my mother making pancakes with our initials on them, they were getting up early to watch the Smurfs, they were playing wiffle ball in the street where we lived—a street so quiet that you could go several innings without a single car passing.
And this is how Saturdays have been since I quit playing sports competitively. Now, I was far from an athlete with top collegiate prospects, but it was still not an easy parting. I eased my way away slowly, quitting a sport a year til there were no more sports, no more years.
This way the break didn’t feel so bad.
And yet, I sort of loathe how pragmatic I was about it. How coldly I stepped away from something I loved. I suppose I was thinking, “this doesn’t serve me anymore” which is a feeling once reserved for boyfriends.
What boldness!
I write this on a Friday afternoon, nearly the last of the summer. Maybe you’re on your way out the door. You’re off to the sea (does the sea still exist), or to the mountains (and them?)
You might bring work with you, you might just be at home, but the pace has slowed, the nights are getting darker sooner. Still, it’s warm out. Feel that. These are special days. You won’t have these forever. It’s already different.
I am the type of writer best enjoyed on Saturdays, I think.
If you think one thought this weekend: how might I, in this lifetime, consume less, and inspire the reduction of consumption in others—not by persuasion but by example? how might i connect with others so that we may use less together? how might i take a stand against the people and the systems that would devour our forests, our animals, our waters?
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about speed, about pacing, about how fast or slow we move through the world. I have learned from my teachers to notice others’ speeds. I have learned from my life, too.
I am highly adaptable. Quite a little swimmer into different ponds, if you will.
We are not taught to respect water and its creatures—especially not those of us with water earth bodies, heavy dense bodies.
We are not cuddly like pups. Not even stealth like lions. But just because we are not wisps, you should not confuse us with the stout inanimate concepts one sometimes finds in games: rooks in chess or race cars on the monopoly board.
(You’d always pick the car, any other choose was foolish)
But I suppose I have a shag to me, a certain curl and curve that makes you think you are getting a different kind of beast.
If you listen to one song this weekend: the 2016 song “rush” by Jay Som popped up on my spotify “pisces” playlist. you don’t need to be into astrology to appreciate these fun and thoughtful playlists curated by astrologer Chani Nicholas.
what a lush and dreamy song—perfect for the end of summer.
The amphibious human, the chameleonic human, the chordate human—confusing beings, all.
We are taught to recoil from creatures of the sea, creatures with scales and gills. Even the most gorgeous mermaid is a wild thing, it’s the way of water.
And cold, too, we’re cold.
So how to survive? Oh, we’ll take on the ways of the world, like the way some men use language, utilitarian and sparse—the language of business, of commerce.
We’ll suit up and duke it out, if you will.
These days, I live with a lion, and that’s a fun life indeed. Living with him is always looking over my shoulder and thinking, “Did that howl mean he just chopped off his finger?”
But no, he’s at the door with a splinter in his paw and I, tool in hand, am there to mend.
if you read one book this weekend. i recently had the great honor to work with philosopher-teachers Preethaji and Krishnaji on the beautiful and important book, the four sacred secrets, which atria published earlier this month. the book has already hit several bestseller lists, and the friends I’ve shared it with are loving it.
it’s quite challenging to sum up a book which has changed my life so profoundly. here’s what i’ll say: i don’t know if i was truly capable of giving or receiving love before i was introduced to these teachings. everything, even kindness, felt like an intellectual endeavor or an obligation—or like i was gathering material for my next book.
i’m much more in my heart now, much more in touch with the person, the writer, and the artist i’ve always wanted to be.
i hope you love this book as much as i do.
One last thought. Saturdays are not easy days for those of us who have been taught to measure our worth in output, production, achievement. I hope that if you feel the weight of to-dos on you today, you are able to take a breath and let them go—if only for a moment.
The fruits are bursting, nearly overripe. The lettuce you just picked is already wilting. How could that be? Why must the world spin forward? Stay here a moment, while it is still lush. The breeze is there, of course it is, to deny its presence would be foolishness.
But stay here, for a moment, just stay.
xo Sarah