In the space between what we know & what we wait for, there is a quiet. And, perhaps, it is in this quiet that we begin to find our true selves. Suleika, you offer the beauty of resting, of allowing burnout to sit with us until it transforms into something else. I am still working on finding the patience to do this. But I find peace in how you describe the unspoken things—the unread books, the lost letters—as markers not of failure, but of the necessary stillness before the next chapter.
Ross, your poem invites us to wonder about a future we cannot see, yet already feel. There is a tenderness in imagining a life not yet here but already entwined with our own. Your words are the quiet questions we all carry, questions that may never be answered but still shape us in ways we can’t fully understand.
Rainer Maria Rilke once wrote that we must be patient with the questions that stir within us, learning to love the uncertainty & the waiting. This, I think, is what both of you speak to—the willingness to sit with the questions, with the waiting, trusting that in the quiet, something is stirring. Whether we are resting or dreaming, we are all, in some way, waiting for something to find us. And in this shared waiting, we begin to meet ourselves in the stillness.
Thank you for this beautiful prompt, a gift to carry with me into the night. I look forward to returning to it tomorrow, when the world has tilted slightly toward morning. X
How fitting that those words open your book—they feel like a door I’ve stood before many times, hand resting gently on the frame. I believe my pre-ordered copy will arrive with the Australian release in August. I’ll smile when I see that line, waiting at the beginning like a soft lantern lit just for the reader.
Care for a cup of say, Earl Gray to ponder your deep and delicious thoughts this morning? "...the willingness to sit with the questions, with the waiting, trusting that in the quiet, something is stirring." Love this!
Thank you, Mary. Earl Grey sounds like the perfect companion for today’s musings. Although, I think I’ll gather some French Earl Grey for us. I have a dear friend who makes her own blends, the roses within the mix giving off notes of Turkish delight. It’s a sip that transports the soul—just what’s needed for moments of quiet reflection. I’m so glad that line resonated with you; sometimes, it feels like it’s in the waiting that we uncover what we didn’t know we were looking for.
Oh my Stars, that sounds divine! Let's share a pot over "our musings." Yes, "the waiting." What a lovely question, "What have I found/discovered, in the waiting?" I feel a writing jag coming on.
I think patience is a key reason for my existence here, in part. I have very little of it, yet it’s the lesson I keep returning to, the one I’m always learning. And yes, Ross's words are a soft invitation to listen, to be present with what’s already here.
Hello All. I love today's writing. Last year I hit burnout. A combination of health and work. It was so much more than anything I ever knew. And this description really hits. I love the concept of tsundoku and have done this ( I only have 3 books waiting right now). And I would love to hear if there is more about the 6 students you sent the letters to. What a wonderful gift! And the poem by Ross Gray hit personally. And lastly I have gotten result of test and waiting for more. I a scared, shocked and keep breathing to keep my feet on the ground. Grateful to all of you.
Big huge lovely love to you from London Town. As some amazing woman or other once said (!), maybe you’re in the messy middle. If only we could tidy up our bodies as easily as our studios. 🤍🤎
The kettle is on, I think you should join Mary & I for a cup of French Earl Grey. There's always room for gentle souls & perhaps a little transporting out of the circumstances we find ourselves in, even if only for a mere moment.
So hard hard hard. The not knowing and the what ifs and the don’t think about it and the maybe it’ll be ok’s. So hard. Lots of love and good will. We are ALL walking on the edge of that same knife. (Only some lucky times we don’t have to
Keeping you in my heart Gina, and reflecting on your words, "keep breathing to keep my feet on the ground." In the swirl of fear and the unknown, wisdom to carry with us.
I love your newsletters. They are tiny works of art. This one made me think about "fallow" periods (allowing a field to rest for a year in order to replenish itself), which first fascinated me as an 8-year-old. I looked it up to pass it on and then I found this:
"Exercise — especially intense exercise — creates tiny tears in the muscles. Over time, as muscles heal, they eventually grow bigger and stronger. **It’s important to remember that this process occurs during rest and recovery, not during the exercise session itself."**
Rock bottom burnout here. Husband had double lung transplant six months ago with many complications. My mom is dying. I was not able to read or draw. Slowly emerging this spring. Entered through a Louise Penny mystery and by drawing cartoons of characters I see on the street. Started smiling at people who pass by. Your words have brought me comfort and inspiration. Sometimes we just have to switch to low gear until a little door is opened by Inspector Gamache.
Jane, I’m so sorry for the weight you’re carrying right now. It’s beautiful how you’re finding small moments of light, even in such heavy times. I’m sending you warmth & quiet strength as you continue to emerge this spring. Mary & I have found a little tea circle in Suleika's beautiful garden bed of words here. Theres always room to sit still with us, even if it's just having someone to stare into middle distance with.
david, thank you for this poem. may i send it to my brother (with or without your name), who is also 77? if not, no problem at all. i wouldn't share it with him without your permission. -judi
Dear Suleika, you are definitely not alone. My entire nuclear family of origin has now passed away. My parents, appreciated creativity, but if a good salary wasn’t a given then don’t dance, act, paint, etc. I danced despite what they said, but that ended tragically. During my 20’s I was a broken version of myself ,because I lost myself. Fast forward, I just spent 49 days (Tibetan Buddhist) praying for my brother who very unexpectedly died. I am now completely burned out. My closest friend is a highly creative film maker, who seems to never have a dry spell. We had a conversation, that changed everything for me. She
said to me , “your family is gone now remember who you are. They can no longer hold you back. Be the artist that retreated. Heal yourself”. Suleika, be patient and kind to yourself right now. You are probably just evolving.❤️
While reading today, I am reminded of a post you wrote about a while ago. The post considered the “to be list” vs the “to do list”. Consider how you want to be & feel more than produce.
As the daily writer of morning “I should do lists”, the concept was freeing for me to ponder
As a Nurse, I encourage you to fill up your tank for a while & be easy on yourself. You are amazing, yet must be exhausted. Xoxo
Man alive this is timely. Thank you Suleika for offering an unshaming for us book gatherers. Surely having them come live with us is somehow a … commitment to creativity? And supporting the writers?! But I hear all the contradictions. Busy/exhausted. Creative/frozen. Hopeful/done in. A walk in the yard with another human is sometimes as creative as we get. It’s enough. And also, excuse me!, this piece you’ve written here? Creativity personified! Ta da!
Love to this whole human community.
Sitting at my desk dragging the words out for a piece on ancient woodland and listening to nightingales at night… 🙄
Dear Suleika, please know that of course finishing a huge project (and then following up with a book tour!) leaves you depleted. I have learned that the physical jolt AND sustained reliance on adrenaline to get one through something big, even something big and joyful, always leads to an adrenaline crash. Something that a night or two of sleep does not take care of. Take good care, let your body recover from its efforts, and your mind and emotions will follow. They will. We all know that, Suleika, even though you may be doubtful right now. Your creativity is there, taking a much-needed nap. And it will wake up refreshed when the body cradling it has rested, too.
I'm an artist. I always tell my students that when i'm feeling uninspired I clean my studio. It makes my work space more inviting and I inevitably come across something that sparks. And if I don't it's OK! I have my space ready! So glad this worked for you!
When I hear the word "doldrums" I always think of the nautical meaning, - the equatorial location (warmth), the calm, the softly changing winds, the occasional quick uptick to a squall. Sailors may have the time to mend something, jump off the boat for a swim, .... catch up on sleep. The boat may not be moving, but the doldrums create their own opportunities.
Little dreamer may you never be ashamed of your gifts & hide them & enjoy sharing your beauty, sadness, ripeness with the world & not allow anyone to shame you & your gifts. May you ooze with dreaminess & realize your gifts come from the inside out. Your presence, your light will always make the world a better place.
I am finding the backdrop of the current political climate, the constant thrum of it, to be enervating. And at times, totally exhausting. Sometimes it helps to listen to the Charles Yang cover of A Change Is Gonna Come.
If you feel unispired, watch a light hearted movie about unbearable lightness of being, for example "Perfect days" by Wim Wenders is a wonderful one. It's the little things ❤️
Dear Suleika & Ross,
In the space between what we know & what we wait for, there is a quiet. And, perhaps, it is in this quiet that we begin to find our true selves. Suleika, you offer the beauty of resting, of allowing burnout to sit with us until it transforms into something else. I am still working on finding the patience to do this. But I find peace in how you describe the unspoken things—the unread books, the lost letters—as markers not of failure, but of the necessary stillness before the next chapter.
Ross, your poem invites us to wonder about a future we cannot see, yet already feel. There is a tenderness in imagining a life not yet here but already entwined with our own. Your words are the quiet questions we all carry, questions that may never be answered but still shape us in ways we can’t fully understand.
Rainer Maria Rilke once wrote that we must be patient with the questions that stir within us, learning to love the uncertainty & the waiting. This, I think, is what both of you speak to—the willingness to sit with the questions, with the waiting, trusting that in the quiet, something is stirring. Whether we are resting or dreaming, we are all, in some way, waiting for something to find us. And in this shared waiting, we begin to meet ourselves in the stillness.
Thank you for this beautiful prompt, a gift to carry with me into the night. I look forward to returning to it tomorrow, when the world has tilted slightly toward morning. X
A fave Rilke quote—I actually chose it for the epigraph for The Book of Alchemy!
How fitting that those words open your book—they feel like a door I’ve stood before many times, hand resting gently on the frame. I believe my pre-ordered copy will arrive with the Australian release in August. I’ll smile when I see that line, waiting at the beginning like a soft lantern lit just for the reader.
Care for a cup of say, Earl Gray to ponder your deep and delicious thoughts this morning? "...the willingness to sit with the questions, with the waiting, trusting that in the quiet, something is stirring." Love this!
Thank you, Mary. Earl Grey sounds like the perfect companion for today’s musings. Although, I think I’ll gather some French Earl Grey for us. I have a dear friend who makes her own blends, the roses within the mix giving off notes of Turkish delight. It’s a sip that transports the soul—just what’s needed for moments of quiet reflection. I’m so glad that line resonated with you; sometimes, it feels like it’s in the waiting that we uncover what we didn’t know we were looking for.
Oh my Stars, that sounds divine! Let's share a pot over "our musings." Yes, "the waiting." What a lovely question, "What have I found/discovered, in the waiting?" I feel a writing jag coming on.
I do so look forward to seeing what your writing jag uncovers!
We must be patient…waiting to meet ourselves again and again in the stillness
in order to create or respond to…what’s calling me now?
And who couldn’t love Ross Gay?
I think patience is a key reason for my existence here, in part. I have very little of it, yet it’s the lesson I keep returning to, the one I’m always learning. And yes, Ross's words are a soft invitation to listen, to be present with what’s already here.
This is a beautiful reflection, Kim. Sleep tight, dream well.
Always so kind, Louise. Thank you, I did. Here's hoping you did also.
Hello All. I love today's writing. Last year I hit burnout. A combination of health and work. It was so much more than anything I ever knew. And this description really hits. I love the concept of tsundoku and have done this ( I only have 3 books waiting right now). And I would love to hear if there is more about the 6 students you sent the letters to. What a wonderful gift! And the poem by Ross Gray hit personally. And lastly I have gotten result of test and waiting for more. I a scared, shocked and keep breathing to keep my feet on the ground. Grateful to all of you.
I'm so sorry to hear you're in this place of in-between and fear, Gina. Sending you love!
Thank you. I like the idea of in between 💕
Big huge lovely love to you from London Town. As some amazing woman or other once said (!), maybe you’re in the messy middle. If only we could tidy up our bodies as easily as our studios. 🤍🤎
💕
😘
Gina, am most sorry to read of your recent health tests. Hoping you find some comfort in this gentle community.
Thank you 💕
💕
The kettle is on, I think you should join Mary & I for a cup of French Earl Grey. There's always room for gentle souls & perhaps a little transporting out of the circumstances we find ourselves in, even if only for a mere moment.
Thank you Kim. I love the idea!!
So hard hard hard. The not knowing and the what ifs and the don’t think about it and the maybe it’ll be ok’s. So hard. Lots of love and good will. We are ALL walking on the edge of that same knife. (Only some lucky times we don’t have to
realize it.).
💕
Sending you Love. May it be alright.
Thank you for the alright.
Keeping you in my heart Gina, and reflecting on your words, "keep breathing to keep my feet on the ground." In the swirl of fear and the unknown, wisdom to carry with us.
Thank you
I love your newsletters. They are tiny works of art. This one made me think about "fallow" periods (allowing a field to rest for a year in order to replenish itself), which first fascinated me as an 8-year-old. I looked it up to pass it on and then I found this:
"Exercise — especially intense exercise — creates tiny tears in the muscles. Over time, as muscles heal, they eventually grow bigger and stronger. **It’s important to remember that this process occurs during rest and recovery, not during the exercise session itself."**
Oh thank you for your sweet note, Tessa! I love the word fallow <3
Me too! PS I am loving your book but it's still nice to get the email versions of some of the essays.
Rock bottom burnout here. Husband had double lung transplant six months ago with many complications. My mom is dying. I was not able to read or draw. Slowly emerging this spring. Entered through a Louise Penny mystery and by drawing cartoons of characters I see on the street. Started smiling at people who pass by. Your words have brought me comfort and inspiration. Sometimes we just have to switch to low gear until a little door is opened by Inspector Gamache.
Here’s to whatever brings us out, be it a long nap or a Louise Penny mystery!
Jane, I’m so sorry for the weight you’re carrying right now. It’s beautiful how you’re finding small moments of light, even in such heavy times. I’m sending you warmth & quiet strength as you continue to emerge this spring. Mary & I have found a little tea circle in Suleika's beautiful garden bed of words here. Theres always room to sit still with us, even if it's just having someone to stare into middle distance with.
🙏❤️
Of course, it’s Father’s Day,
So thus and therefore
A poetic dream for you, Dad,
And me, at 77, wishing
For just one sweet thing,
What never was, was always
Wished for, for you and me,
A strong, gentle, warm hug
Between I and thee. 🏮
david, thank you for this poem. may i send it to my brother (with or without your name), who is also 77? if not, no problem at all. i wouldn't share it with him without your permission. -judi
Hi, Judi, yes, please feel free to pass this on to your brother. You may use my name. Best, David🏮
Dear Suleika, you are definitely not alone. My entire nuclear family of origin has now passed away. My parents, appreciated creativity, but if a good salary wasn’t a given then don’t dance, act, paint, etc. I danced despite what they said, but that ended tragically. During my 20’s I was a broken version of myself ,because I lost myself. Fast forward, I just spent 49 days (Tibetan Buddhist) praying for my brother who very unexpectedly died. I am now completely burned out. My closest friend is a highly creative film maker, who seems to never have a dry spell. We had a conversation, that changed everything for me. She
said to me , “your family is gone now remember who you are. They can no longer hold you back. Be the artist that retreated. Heal yourself”. Suleika, be patient and kind to yourself right now. You are probably just evolving.❤️
Dear Suleika,
While reading today, I am reminded of a post you wrote about a while ago. The post considered the “to be list” vs the “to do list”. Consider how you want to be & feel more than produce.
As the daily writer of morning “I should do lists”, the concept was freeing for me to ponder
As a Nurse, I encourage you to fill up your tank for a while & be easy on yourself. You are amazing, yet must be exhausted. Xoxo
Man alive this is timely. Thank you Suleika for offering an unshaming for us book gatherers. Surely having them come live with us is somehow a … commitment to creativity? And supporting the writers?! But I hear all the contradictions. Busy/exhausted. Creative/frozen. Hopeful/done in. A walk in the yard with another human is sometimes as creative as we get. It’s enough. And also, excuse me!, this piece you’ve written here? Creativity personified! Ta da!
Love to this whole human community.
Sitting at my desk dragging the words out for a piece on ancient woodland and listening to nightingales at night… 🙄
“Hopeful/done in” describes me perfectly these days. Thanks for finding the words.
Dear Suleika, please know that of course finishing a huge project (and then following up with a book tour!) leaves you depleted. I have learned that the physical jolt AND sustained reliance on adrenaline to get one through something big, even something big and joyful, always leads to an adrenaline crash. Something that a night or two of sleep does not take care of. Take good care, let your body recover from its efforts, and your mind and emotions will follow. They will. We all know that, Suleika, even though you may be doubtful right now. Your creativity is there, taking a much-needed nap. And it will wake up refreshed when the body cradling it has rested, too.
I love the idea of one's creativity taking a nap! Creative slumber.
Preach Suleika!
I'm an artist. I always tell my students that when i'm feeling uninspired I clean my studio. It makes my work space more inviting and I inevitably come across something that sparks. And if I don't it's OK! I have my space ready! So glad this worked for you!
Love,
TT
Great advice!
❤️❤️❤️
@Christy Maurer, I am a visual artist and do the same thing! Cleaning my studio is a way of making space. Exactly what you said!
Ode to Future Self
Acceptance of the meandering paths
that have led you here.
Fully seeing what lies ahead,
but not knowing the journey.
Embracing all that might be,
layering with fortitude for what could be
But mostly, living in the now, -
the roads are always a mystery.
When I hear the word "doldrums" I always think of the nautical meaning, - the equatorial location (warmth), the calm, the softly changing winds, the occasional quick uptick to a squall. Sailors may have the time to mend something, jump off the boat for a swim, .... catch up on sleep. The boat may not be moving, but the doldrums create their own opportunities.
Suleika J and Ross G:
Two poetic delights
Gardens need rest
like day needs night.
Little dreamer may you never be ashamed of your gifts & hide them & enjoy sharing your beauty, sadness, ripeness with the world & not allow anyone to shame you & your gifts. May you ooze with dreaminess & realize your gifts come from the inside out. Your presence, your light will always make the world a better place.
I am finding the backdrop of the current political climate, the constant thrum of it, to be enervating. And at times, totally exhausting. Sometimes it helps to listen to the Charles Yang cover of A Change Is Gonna Come.
If you feel unispired, watch a light hearted movie about unbearable lightness of being, for example "Perfect days" by Wim Wenders is a wonderful one. It's the little things ❤️
https://m.imdb.com/title/tt27503384/
Thanks for this week's newsletter, dear Suleika and a happy Father's Day to both literal and real fathers ❤️
A beautiful essay; thank you.
Surely you know this poem, but if you don't, perhaps it will speak to you, "Santiago" by David Whyte:
Santiago
The road seen, then not seen, the hillside hiding then revealing the way you should take, the road dropping away
Source: https://grateful.org/resource/santiago/