Hi, it’s me. I’m back.

Hi, it’s me. I’m back. I’ve been away from this space (largely) for a while because life has been a long stretch of confusing shifts and big messy feelings, most of which have felt incompatible with these tiny grids, the highlight reels, and the almighty algorithm’s demand for perfection, polish, performance. I’ve been hunkering down with a lot of solitude (my perennial hermit vibe) as well as a lot of making and writing—doing creativity quietly, not for public consumption but just as a practice of being human. And that’s been restorative, like a multi-season hibernation. ⁣
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But I miss this space to be in conversation, especially now when 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 feels like the best activism we can bring about in these divisive times, and showing up as our 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘺, 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 and 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵 selves is maybe the bravest and most necessary thing we can do.⁣
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Yesterday we visited the American Museum of Natural History in Manhattan with dear friends. Each exhibit could be viewed as a testament to loss: extinct dinosaurs and dodo birds, the last generation of fireflies, and all our waning rivers and walrus populations. But each exhibit, I realized, is also a testament to tenacity, an enduring narrative about life’s shifts and messy transitions and stories about what lasts. ⁣
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I’ve wept over stories of loss (in my own life, in the world). Now, it’s time to tell stories about what returns, what lasts.

4w