2. A peace and a bond to this world.

on Dancers, Jackson Heights, fall 2019

from @jaye.bartell on instagram: Dancers, Jackson Heights, fall 2019 • these are some of the first photos I’ve taken, at least for this half of my life. Photography was a deep interest of mine at age 17 when I was starting to get my spirit together after getting kicked out of high school, nurtured by my community at Shackleton School, where my life was reborn (not a Christian thing). The process of taking these photos was very moving to me. I felt a peace and bond to this world that has stayed with me as I’ve continued shooting. These were taken with a Canon Ftb I bought from a guy in Jersey who was retiring and moving to Florida. I’d say thanks to him but I paid him $100 and that’s sufficient. I thank the dancers. #35mm #35mmfilm #dancewithme

Recently, my dear friend Jaye Bartell has been sharing his film photography from the last few years on his instagram page. Like so much of Jaye’s poetry and music through our decades of friendship, I resonate so deeply with these photographs and the “peace and bond to this world” that they convey.

When we moved to Philadelphia, in the depths of the first covid winter, in the depths of snow and grief, I moved through the world estranged; a stranger. I walked incessantly: outside with the dogs, along the frozen Wissahickon Creek, for miles and miles in solitude. In summer I rode the subway to my brunch waitress job in Center City, and by fall I was interning at a housing first agency, walking and riding buses and trains to every corner of the city to visit clients at home, in prison, and on the street. I was still a stranger among strangers, but I began to notice a feeling, a tenderness and a belonging which slowly began to replace my feelings of alienation and isolation. I began to feel elated- like actually euphoric- by tiny, simple interactions with people in public spaces. Or, not even interactions. Just by observing people. Just by being among people. Just bearing witness to people going about their daily lives, as a completely neutral bystander, would often move me to tears: the grandpa unselfconsciously dancing and singing along to the overhead music as he makes his way down the aisle in the grocery store, the man enthusiastically selling tiny pet turtles on the subway platform. The woman wearing a t-shirt that read “LOVE” rubbing her butt on the bus seats where the Franciscan nuns had just been sitting, yelling “I’m gonna get me some of these NUN BLESSINGS!" and the whole bus cracking up- these moments where I give thanks for being here, for being alive, for being a part of the human family, for being on the No. 15 trolly at THIS precise time on THIS exact day so I could be a part of THIS moment. A peace and a bond to this world.

But why here, why now? Of course, Philly is special 🧡, but so is every place. I know I can’t engineer the magic of connection, not really, but how do I stay open to it? What is the orientation or approach that allows for this feeling of resonance with the thrum of life? The word that keeps coming up for me is neutral: calling a truce with my incessant desire to inflict my will onto the world and make it reflect what I think it should be, and instead being neutral, bearing witness, trying to have a little goddamned equanimity about the whole mess of it.

It’s early days at my new job, but I believe I may have found a mentor. The director of the program, an accomplished researcher in the area of mindfulness and addiction, is the type of leader that will put her hand on your shoulder, make deep eye contact, and sincerely and unironically say things like, “this problem is not something for you to succeed or fail at, we are all in this together” and “my philosophy, whether people like it or not, is that this place is going to be run on a collective feminist model” and reads poetry during staff meetings and talks openly about her feelings of despair and the birds outside her window. Honestly, I’m all in. The other day, during one of the weekly mindfulness dialogue sessions, the topic of estrangement came up. She said, “People often think of estrangement as negative, but I think of estrangement as neutral.” This statement and the conversation that followed struck me- and it stayed with me- giving me language to express something I have been feeling but had not been able to put into words.

Estrangement- stepping away from a relationship, situation, or system that has become untenable or harmful- is so often experienced as a rejection, but what if it actually was neutral- a form of acceptance? An acceptance of that person- that family- that system- as they are, not as we wish them to be. An acceptance of “life on life’s terms.” A refusal to intervene and try to change or fix someone without their consent. A refusal to participate in harm- to yourself or to the other. A neutral ground from which to heal, grow, branch out, a hidden back door out of the chaos. Because estrangement often happens when we give up on closure, it can feel like a way to press pause in media res, catch a breath, and rest from the and confusion. But what happens after? What if you never go back? What if you walk away and start a new life? It’s a liminal space that might last forever, and then we have to figure out how to live there, forever in the in-between.

I think of sobriety that way too. In some ways, quitting drinking to me feels like suspended animation- like I just pressed the pause button on my life in 2019 and I’ve been running around in some alternate reality or timeline or dreamscape, and at any time I could go back, press unpause, and the whole tape of my real life would start rolling, the stage lights would flicker on, the carousel would wind up and the music would play and I’d be back there, blinking, tipsy and smiling, holding a platter of cupcakes.

But time does march on, mercifully, and if we’re lucky the past continues to unspool behind us and we get to build a foundation under the new and bewildering places we find ourselves. We build a home in the world. Hopefully. Thankfully. Blessedly.

I think this neutrality- this liminal space which is a form of quitting or giving up but also a real source of acceptance and equanimity- is the place where we find real life. When we are lucky enough to get broken and humbled, to see through our own bullshit about the way the world should be, to loosen our grip and start to see the world as it is, we can’t help but to be so moved, so tender about the truth and the beauty of it. We can’t help but to feel a peace, and a bond to this world.

Home

Last night Jasper and I watched The Banshees of Inisherin, about which I can only say: what the fuck, but I also made these cookies, an adaptation of an Alison Roman recipe from the New York Times about which I can say: the commenters were correct that they were too salty but I also can’t stop eating them so do what you will.

Chocolate Molasses Cookies

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Melt 1 stick of butter in a saucepan

add 1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger to the butter

Sift:

3/4 cup GF all purpose flour

3/4 cup coconut flour

1/2 cup cocoa

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1 teaspoon kosher salt (I think this is where I went wrong- probably would have been fine if I used kosher salt, but I used regular table salt and it was too salty. Next time I’m going to do half a teaspoon)

Mix in a bowl:

1/3 cup white sugar

1/2 cup molasses

1 large egg

Add the butter to the sugar/egg mixture then add in the dry ingredients and combine. Roll the dough into small balls (1-2 inches across) and roll in granulated sugar. Bake for 6-8 minutes until they just puff and set. Let cool completely before eating.

The World

Here are two media recommendations:

I loved the TV show Fleishman is in Trouble and I also loved this critique by Laurie Stone in Oldster Magazine that asks the question, “who is served if feminism disappears in each generation, and you have to invent fire, the wheel, and the light bulb every 25 or so years?” Obviously I don’t agree with everything she says (do we have to keep saying this? From now on, it’s implied) but I really enjoyed the conversations.

The Trouble With Fleishman, A Monologue

I’m also excited about a new podcast I started yesterday, Skyline Drive. It’s ostensibly a podcast about astrology written by a intrigued skeptic, but he (the skeptic) quickly finds out what happens when you stare into the abyss: it stares back at you. My favorite quote from the first episode is “astrology is true in the way that poetry is true” and this is the most precise description of my relationship to the esoteric that I have yet come across. If you listened to this podcast or you want to listen along with me, let me know in the comments.

As promised, pictures of houseplants! Also to be found on my new insta @home.andtheworld. If anyone knows the name of this lil baby please let me know.

And finally, a card:

The Nine of Cups (again from the Modern Witch Tarot by Lisa Sterle). The name of this card is the Lord of Contentment, and it is so apropos of the theme of this missive. The Nine of Cups represents the mundane pleasures and blessings and small joys of everyday life that make up a life of satisfaction and fulfillment: birthday cake and herbal tea and houseplants and loved ones and taking walks and finding connections with strangers on the subway. May your cups be full and your heart be at peace.

xoxo

Jodi