It’s storming like anything and bucketing down rain here where I live today, the second day of a tropical storm system that’s come up the coast. A perfect day to spend a little while meandering through some things worth sharing, if you ask me.
I like how matter-of-fact but kind Katherine May’s list of things to do when you’re feeling mentally stuck is. She’s speaking from her experience as a writer, but I think that if you do anything long enough — write, draw, dance, cook, teach, whatever — it’s pretty common to come up against the feeling of being, as she puts it, “like a blocked pipe. Nothing can go in; nothing can come out.” I love that she doesn’t treat is as an emergency or an existential crisis, just another part of life to navigate, which has very much been my experience too.
MSNBC commentator Zerlina Maxwell is leaving the U.S. for Italy for the sake of her mental health, a move I envy more than a little and empathize with a lot. I’ve been watching the recent rise in American outmigration, and having lots of thoughts about what it says about what the American dream fails to deliver and the American reality does such a poor job of supporting. I agree with Elizabeth Coleman that the geographical cure won’t fix everything — and that we can’t and shouldn’t expect it to. There are problems and stressors no matter where you hang your hat and your individual problems travel wherever you do. And yet, and still: if you find yourself trapped in a culture that’s toxic to you, and you have the ability to move yourself to and become a contributor to a less toxic one, it might be worth considering, in addition to considering ways in which you can perhaps help make the place and culture you’re in right now a little better.
Speaking of making the place and the environment you’re in right now a little better: I’m not the only person who has discovered that household and garden labor, repetitive and mundane, has a lot of potential to benefit you mentally as well as making the place you live more functional and comfortable to be in. The remarkable Kathleen Norris has written a remarkable little book about this. Don’t be put off by the religious talk, it’s just one of the many lenses through which one can think about process, practice, and how those mesh with seeing to other human needs. And while we’re on the self-reflection theme, the brilliant Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg’s recent essay on Rabbi Alan Lew’s practice for the Hebrew month of Elul — the last month of the Jewish year, leading into the High Holidays — is revealing and worth investigating.
I’m listening to the dazzling young Spanish guitarist Anabel Montesinos while I write this and hoping the power doesn’t go out. Yesterday I went down a Leon Bridges rabbit hole and kept coming back to “River.” Ted Gioia’s piece about pioneering vocal technique researcher Leo Kofler made me cry, in some good ways, and got me thinking a lot of thoughts about a different kind of practice than the one I mentioned in the preceding paragraph. (Or is it really so different?)
, an editor with whom I once had the great good fortune to work on a book project, has been Substacking away (hi Brooke!) and has just written a dandy post about the “why it matters” of memoir writing. It dovetails nicely with some of what I had to say about writing a memoir, and if you’re working on a memoir or other nonfiction project, you might want to look into Brooke’s long-form, amazing-looking seminar (mentioned in her piece) or perhaps into the shorter-form one I’m teaching on context and worldbuilding for nonfiction.I’m enchanted by the idea of declaring yourself the artist-in-residence of somewhere or something, as Amy Stewart has done so winningly. I’m trying to decide what I want to be the artist-in-residence of. If you were going to be the artist-in-residence of something, what or where would you choose?
I hope that my comments are helpful to someone.
My mother moved to Firenze, Tuscany, Italy for her mental health. After working for candidates she believed in for years, she just couldn't do it anymore. Italy is FAR from perfect, but Florence is her favorite city in the world, and she's consistently grateful to be there. She's 76 years old, and she did what she needed and was able to do. I have other friends who moved to Portugal. They had been stunned, when on vacation to Lisbon and surrounding areas, they felt what it was like to be around a whole culture that wasn't poised for violence, trapped in anxiety, or afraid for their lives and those of their beloveds.