'What day is it?' and other useless questions for this liminal week.
I am only asking myself what would help me settle in to the right now.
We are in the last days of this year, and I am unraveling as we are meant in this time; yesterday (or some day like it) my mum asked me what my plans are for Thursday, and I blinked absently at her, unsure when Thursday would be arriving to us - tomorrow? Three weeks from now? Was Thursday before or after I fly home? (Is my flight on Thursday? Somebody should check.) Thursday as a concept is lost on me.
I have been doing the holy work of letting myself be as I am in these final days of 2022 — this is particularly easy since I’m at my parents’ apartment, away from my own apartment, where I might be tempted to busy myself with something practical like cleaning a mirror or tidying a drawer or getting my *gestures broadly* life together in any way. Here there is only quiet mornings and misty rain, there is the winding trail along the inlet, the meandering kitchen conversations, the simple-yet-important transition from full-on pajama-sweatpants to my day-time loungewear as we call it now. I have consumed my weight in spinach dip, in molasses cookies, in homemade Bailey’s (Kath says I am not allowed to give you the recipe, I am sorry. Maybe next year). My hair is dirty and slightly frizzy from the west coast fog and rain. All the better for putting a toque on this head and calling it Good.
Up is indistinguishable from down. Day and night blur. I have the feeling like I don’t know what I should be doing and then I remember it’s probably exactly that. I try to ease into the book that I gifted my dad and have claimed for myself for the duration of this trip, since all of December my brain felt too fried to even blink in the direction of any reading. I am still reaching for my phone often to doom scroll, to numb out, to disassociate from what it feels like to just be here, right here.
Presence is the word that has been humming to me lately. I want to greet myself in the place that I am, which feels how this week feels: I want to greet the not yet, the almost there, the not-quite, the maybe nothing. If I surrender to the in-the-meantime, I will give myself the gift of being acutely on the lookout for all that is unhurried and calm, the quiet moments that happen between takes.
I let go of the strange inferiority that seems to be heavy-breathing on my face as I try to go about my day that says I should do a [not long-winded, not anecdotal] round up of any accomplishments or milestones of the year, complete with a trajectory or aspiration for what comes next.
All I have left is the desire to find company within myself where I’m at now. I hope you feel welcomed and greeted in yourself today too.
[insert seamless transition into communicating some ways to connect in the coming weeks for when we’re putting real pants on — or not! — again]
January Offerings
An Extremely optional, loosey-goosey (for you) 31 day writing project
Starting January 1st, I’ll be starting a writing project called A Soft Resolution: a thirty-one day practice of presence. Each day I will share a poem I love, a little blurb, and extremely optional journal questions AND writing prompts for all of us to follow.
There are many ways to participate: Take 5 minutes to start your day with poetry and go about your day. Use the journal prompts or don’t. Use the writing prompts for your own 31 day writing challenge (or painting/ dancing/ movement/ breathing/ sculpting… whatever you want!)
Sign up here to receive these daily emails for A Soft Resolution - *I think* I set it up so you have to opt in — the intention behind this is so people who don’t want an email a day from me don’t get one!The Collective Conversation: What Is New About A New Year?
Tuesday, January 17th
7pm EST on Zoom
Each month I host The Collective Conversation, which gathers strangers to cut the small talk and share where we’re at and what we’re learning. This month: let’s talk making or resisting resolutions, making changes (or not), our relationship with goal setting (when it works, when it doesn’t, and how we feel about it) and what we’re hoping for out of the next year.
Register here for tickets (pssst this event is free for Substack Founding Members!)Poetry Club: Starting Fresh
Tuesday, January 24th
7pm EST on Zoom
This month for Poetry Club we’re talking about fresh starts - needing one, craving one, lamenting one, celebrating one… bring a few poems (by yourself or others!) to read to the group.
Register here for tickets (this event is free to paid Substack subscribers!)
The amount of brain power to write all this practical stuff above is astounding! I must now have a full day of leisure to compensate.
See you soon — thank you for making the internet such a beautiful place to hang out.
xo jess.
PS: As always, feedback, insight, and comments on these letters are extremely helpful for me to make this space great for all of us as I navigate this new platform (and always), so please feel free to leave a comment below or email me at jessjanz@gmail.com — standard artist response times may apply :)
If I’m a paid Subtacker, do I have to register for poetry event 1/24? Thanks! I’m new here.