Hello! buckle up, Bucko, this ‘un has a whole Table of Contents:
- a lil’ essay about time and time off
- two new things coming for Creaturely
- survey results
- three favorite things, including the $6 planner I’m in love with
Let’s do this thing.
I am writing to you from the DMV waiting room because that is how things go these days. I've heard lots of mom friends talk about “writing in the cracks,” and now it's my turn.
Sometimes it seems a little silly to be Tetris-ing my time this way. Shouldn't I just do less? Over the last couple of months while I’ve had Creaturely on a bit of a pause, I’ve done a lot less writing in the cracks, and it’s been lovely in its own way. Frankly, I devoted the entire last couple of months to moving energy out of my frantic mind, through my hands, and into my home and community.
I’d gotten stuck in Internet Brain: everywhere is online, everything is content, using social media to plug up the weird hours of boredom and loneliness that creep in to long days with a baby. My antidote was to be here now, and sometimes only my hands know the way back to that headspace. I’ve been making meals to share, dreaming up cozy spaces in our house, and (finishing the old project of) embroidering this chair:
I think it matters that we do some things slowly and for no reason. I think we’re created to pray with our hands (and feet and breath…). There are prayers we can only pray with our hands.
I’ve also been asking myself questions, sometimes questions that feel risky. Am I actually, constitutionally able to write online and not succumb to Internet Brain? Who benefits from my presence here—and is it really who I think it is? What [do I think] I would lose if I put my writing life on hold?
I guess the detailed answers would be a whole ‘nother essay. The point is, I believe in asking the risky questions, because you can really love something and also choose to hold it loosely. And those questions were useful in a time when I have needed to gather myself and seek some clarity.
The thing is, I quit writing for the summer, but I still couldn’t contain the creative energy. It spilled out into food and plants and songs I made up for the baby and journaling and the tattoo I have scheduled in two weeks. I watched all kinds of interesting thoughts and metaphors float past without capturing them here.1 I joined our local justice organizing coalition. And, where two months ago I dreaded anyone asking me what I planned to write next, I am back to my normal brimming with book ideas.2 The creativity has to go somewhere (for all our sakes, trust me). If I sometimes feel drained, it’s not because I put time and energy into this sliver of work that is all mine, that I love.
So here we are. I kind of want to say lots more about time, mothering, disability, money, and why I’m not writing about presidential politics—but there will be time. There will be time. That’s what I (re-)learned in my summer off.
New things coming for Creaturely!
I’m tweaking free and paid offerings again now that I’m on the DMV writing schedule.3
Free subscribers will still get a couple essays from me per month, along with previews of the paid offerings—though I promise to agonize deeply over where to put the paywall so that you’ll still get some value out of your click. Your click is important to us!
Paid subscribers will get a more personal essay/update and a few favorite things once a month. AND! I AM SO EXCITED.
Send me your questions for REVERSE ADVICE.
I am not actually qualified to give out advice—in fact, advice-giving is a big-sister habit I’m trying hard to break. But! Sometimes people ask me for advice! And when this happens in real life, I’m learning to take it as a signal to ask tons of questions.
For REVERSE ADVICE, I’ll share some *thoughts* (but not instructions) and a couple of questions that might help you find your own way forward. I’d be particularly honored to hear about your journey with faith deconstruction, chronic illness or embodiment, finding a place in social justice movements, navigating privilege, growing community/friendship, or making space for creativity. You may ask me about parenting if you want to help me laugh real hard.
This will also be a paid feature. If you’re a free subscriber, submit a question and I’ll get you a free month; if I choose your question to publish and answer, we’ll make it three.
Survey Results!
Biggest thing I learned: almost all of you have been politely tolerating, but not caring about, my technology tirades
Favorite thing anyone wrote: “Lyndsey says things that I have felt but not known how to say.”
My true burning question with this survey was: If Creaturely regularly featured research and reflection about "growing a village" (parenting in community), would that feel like something you signed up for?
80% of you said yes.
Three favorite things
Maybe this email is getting too long, but maybe I also don’t want to put us all through all this housekeeping without a lil’ treat.
A gumball machine for my brain: Sublime. Sublime keeps your favorite quotes, articles, images, and ideas all in one place—and then it points you to related notes from other people, effectively creating a Wikipedia rabbit hole of people’s favorite things and ideas. IT CAN AUTOMATICALLY ADD YOUR KINDLE HIGHLIGHTS so you can actually keep your favorite ideas in front of you instead of in the plastic slab. I also love how this company thinks about technology and talks about business. You need this to make scrolling fun again, but you especially need this if you’re one of the ten percent who actually enjoy my Neil Postman/Marshall McLuhan speeches.
(Sublime is currently invite-only, but if you hit reply to this email or send me a Substack message, I’ll get you the hookup.)
My $6 planning solution (that is also pretty!): I have paid $120 for a year of Full Focus Planners in the past, and I would not hesitate to do so again if I had a desk job or multiple big projects on the go. That is just to say, cheapness is not my primary motivator because planning really matters to me—the $6 thing is just what happened. I currently keep a weekly to-do list on a separate piece of paper and plan my days with these 3.5x5” daily planners that I can throw in my purse and not even notice. They are just perfect for looking at my day and saying, “What is realistic here?” so that when naptime/childcare happens I’m ready to go. They’re divided into morning, afternoon, and evening, which are the three times my child sleeps! They have a blank facing page for my stickers and grocery lists! They are $6 for T-W-E-L-V-E. Please do not make them go viral on TikTok or we’ll all be paying something outlandish like $10.
The way this woman is showing up. My friend KJ Ramsey (who wrote the foreword of my book and has generously championed it ever since) has been through a year of medical hell. Like, fresh hell after fresh hell. And she’s stayed committed to just being here for herself in the middle of it. She’s wrestled with the advice to “write from your scars, not your wounds,” and ultimately thrown it right out the window.
I do think she is uniquely equipped to do that—not everyone is going to fare well with suffering deeply all the way in public. But we all deserve a place where we don’t have to hide our loss, grief, and growth, our ugly cries and “ugly” language, our selves in all their messy becoming. KJ has found those places in private and has given us so much by choosing to boldly claim that place in public, too. I could say more, but I’ll let her say it. Deep-dive her story on Instagram and Substack.
Phew! That’s all the things! Send me your advice questions. Tell me your thoughts about parenting in community. Or don’t, and just go embroider something.
peace, love, bread, and wine,
Lyndsey
That’s a good thing—beware the writer who can’t admit we just might tend to take our own interesting thoughts a bit too seriously.
the trick is to see which ones are good enough to stick around.
like Pomodoros and 6-hour “butt in chair” workdays, it’s a classic.
Oh my goodness, and then I got to the bottom of your email. 😭 Wow. Thank you. You are right—I threw out the entire rulebook when it comes to scars and wounds. (What are we supposed to do when we cannot stop more wounds from coming? What if writing is how we survive them?) I will say, there’s so much more I don’t put on the internet than do, and most often when I’ve shared something hard it’s well after I’ve been holding it in my heart and with my community for a bit of time. (Usually.) Anyway, just thank you for these kind, kind words. This week I got even more fresh hell kind of news, and your words feel like a hug and a “keep f-cking going” all at once. 🥹🙏🏼
I’m not sure whether this is a reverse advice question, or just a question, but I’m curious about how you found your local justice organizing coalition? Where would one look for similar organizations in their area?