Another moment of beauty from this week: feeding a bottle to a long-lashed baby camel named Mahmoud. Which led me to researching how camels do in freezing temperatures and whether a baby camel sanctuary in New York is technically feasible. Which led me to wondering if my toothless senior dog will let me bottle-feed her breakfast.
Each time I read you Suleika it is like a gentle balm, reminding me that beauty in the world still exists. I also so appreciate the honesty both you and Jessica have brought to the lived experience of illness and disability. It got me reflecting on my mother (now departed from the world) who had polio and all her life struggled to feel seen and supported....and was also so often ashamed by the idea of using crutches or a wheelchair. Jessica's piece brought some clarity around how so much of this shame comes out of the ablist culture we live in. It deepens my empathy for what my mother was going through. Thank you so much.
Thank you, Jessica. Creating comfort and care. Yes, allowing these ingredients into our lives. In 2013 my partner died after dealing with cancer for six years. Monica loved, lived, and died, embracing Beauty. She will forever be an inspiration in my life. Soon after Monica died I decided to move. To seek a quiet nest, a small apartment in the woods. Lacking a kitchen table, I decided I needed a table that would always bring a smile, a question, a chuckle. No square or rectangle table. The table I sit at right now as I write this is shaped like an insect. A lovely piece of cherry with a head, or tail, curving edges, and a lovely pedestal made of ash. We “were made for each other”. I have been living with this table for more than ten years and every day another smile, chuckle, and a quiet reminder of Monica’s Beauty. 🌹
I was in a vintage shop not that long ago and saw a table shaped like a horse—so whimsical! I love the idea of an insect even more! Thank you for sharing memories of Monica with us. Sending love!
This resonates with me. In September 2020 I contracted COVID and spent 204 days on a ventilator. 3 months on an induced coma and then awake but ventilated before slowly fighting my way back to life bit by bit. I know what it is to be confined to a small room in a body weakened to slug status by atrophied muscles and voiceless but loved and cared for by an amazing team who accompanied me back to health.
I remain on supplemental
Oxygen and attend rehab twice a week but my body and mind are strong thanks to my family, friends and community with includes you Suleika and the contributors to the Isolation Journals.
I turned 60 in July and as always my husband and I chose an outdoor space where it feels as if the walls have fallen away and we are surrounded by 180 degrees of air and sunshine and the full sensory experience of the world that is lacking in ICU. We live in the southern tip of Africa so visiting game lodges and sitting in the presence of elephants in the veld is my happy place.
Dear wonderful Suleika, - such a beautiful post today, with your description of the feast in Tunesia, and you then lying under the pomegranate tree. It opened my eyes for the beauty around me, it softened my heart, sitting here on a foggy November morning, with my dog between my legs, watching the leaves fall outside. Your words make me love this world more, connects me with you and with all the fragility of life, and makes me deeply grateful! I am hoping in the depth of my loving heart that you will feel better soon! Love, Silke
I feel you Suleika. Yesterday my tiny beauty was rummaging through the shops and souk in Marrakesh for a cane. I had left mine in the tourist bus, the driver is now in the Sahara, I was directed to the square and then the souk, with gentle smiles. Finally I had a choice of 3 but the real high point was to talk with people and laugh. That is the real cane for my soul these days.
Thank you so much for this beautiful piece of writing and all it holds. It means a lot to me as I navigate the path of someone very close to me who has the same illness. Finding room to breathe in the fullest sense of the word is challenging and the powers of the mind are staggering when this isn't physically possible. The joy in simplicity hits like a shot of ice on a boiling hot day, like the warmth of a log fire when you come in from the cold. We cherish it, are so grateful for it. Breathing in the simplest sounds of nature. I wish you well. Your writing is truly beautiful.
On a daily basis, I visit my mother. She is in an assisted living facility in a hospice, memory care unit. My chronic Elhers- Danlos pain and Sjogren's disease make each day challenging. As noted in the gorgeous writings of these articles, noticing and seeking beauty is difficult and necessary.
Some days I can see it in the
creation of a kind aide who blends veggie soup with chicken salad so my mother can eat something she likes the flavor of. Other days, it is the stroke induced half smile my mother gives me when I put the lotion she enjoys on her bruised and thin skinned hands and arms. Thank you Suleika and Jessica for your beautiful, soul filled writing that reminds me how to see.
Thank you, Suleika, this morning your words are so nourishing. You remind me that if I truly wish to live, I need to be open to all that life offers. I can’t edit life and delete the unpleasant. Life is a full palette of colours. There is the richness of light, and dark. I deeply appreciate your description of a family gathering, a celebration in the olive orchard, honoring the harvest. Best wishes, David🏮
I have been a caretaker to my daughter, who at age 16 (she is 24 almost 25 now) when she had a stroke. The recovery and subsequent illnesses (seizures, migraines, oh, the list goes on), and then finally, after so many emotional and finanacial hoops, I was able to move us to "The Happy House," an 1898 4-square with generous front porch and light pouring in from every side. I hold two truths in the two sides of my heart. One side holds the deep mourning over the suffering my daughter goes through on a daily, sometimes nightly basis, the mourning of the loss of my parents both in March 2024, and most recently, the reality that NO ONE at the Frankfurt Buche messe wanted my book. The other side, holds the truth that I am full of grit, determination, stuborn determinedness, whimsical happiness over my mid-70s playlist and a pair of jeans I bought for brand new for $25 that retail for $125. Yes, you can hold shallow things as a path to happiness. Suleika, may your Tunisian retreat remind your body/mind that it is healing with every lush sight, sound and (when possible) smell.
Wishing you moments of peace and reprieve on your front porch 💛 perhaps while wearing your new jeans and listening to 70s music when the weather allows ✨
Oh, Sarah, you know I had those jeans on today, and I took them and my daughter to a vintage festival today. Perfect weather, lots of laughter, a few purchases, and no music as she, let's just say, does not appreciate my taste in music. Well, we have some crossover "likes" like female jazz vocalists. Oh, I think I feel a new playlist coming on!
Thank you for transporting us. For soothing us through your adjusted vision. Through your love. And through your existence. Astoundingly beautiful and healing entry.
This essay touches the essence of life and brings it forward for us to share. Thank you with all my heart. Although not life threatening, I too suffer from chronic pain. I take refuge in the healing that beauty offers whether in the natural world, in poetry and beautiful prose, in how I curate my home and make art. This piece is a balm as I read it. I pray for your healing and peace.🙏
Suleika, thank you for sharing your life with us through your writing. What a beautiful start to my Sunday morning. Thank you for the continued gift of your words and life lessons.
I woke up this morning to the Lessons from an Olive Orchard and Comfort and Care. Thank you for your joyful words which set the tone for my day. Not experiencing even a fraction of the challenges faced by you and Jessica, I am impressed and encouraged by your strength, optimism and ability to see beauty everywhere even during the the most difficult days when finding hope is a struggle. When I am with my family today I will think of you visiting Tunisia, sharing time with your family and quieter moments under the olive and pomegranate trees.
Thank you for sharing these moments with us. I left a party last night because the leg pain due to cancer treatment became unbearable. I sat in my car reminding myself - this is why I drove here, I made it and I last 4 hours. Trying is better then isolating. Even if I don't feel good I try to live while I can and rest went needed. Thank you for making me feel not alone, not crazy and not over exaggerating. ❤️❤️❤️
Today before I go to church you are my church .(But isn’t church everywhere?)
One simple thing: When people insists on conversing with me about all the bad of the world—generally within the circle of political talk—I say, “Do not let them take your joy.”
Joy is the last thing I am giving up. It is the result of seeing beauty, because I intentionally look for the beauty.
But also I am reminded of years ago before soft sidewalk curves and doors wide enough for wheelchairs. My grandmother had a stroke and was forced to sit in a wheelchair. But I, in my 20s then (50 years ago) ,decided to take her to the mall she loved.
My family helped get us in the car but we were all so naïve. At the mall, I pushed her all around the wide walkways and she rejoiced at her first real outing. Until she had to go to the bathroom and together we discovered there were no stalls wide enough for her chair.
My grandmother, who never left home without her hair dyed black and her stockings rolled up over her knees, peed on herself!
We both cried. Family came to meet us. My grandfather helped put her in the car. She never went out again. And my eyes were opened to how inadequate a world I lived in.
Wish I could say I knew what to do. I was a single mother with a drug problem. I had other problems to tend too. But I knew to look people in the eyes who sat in wheelchairs, to smile at them and sometimes wink. To even hold a Halloween party for children from Easter Seals. I used my body when I could for anyone who could not use theirs.
Another moment of beauty from this week: feeding a bottle to a long-lashed baby camel named Mahmoud. Which led me to researching how camels do in freezing temperatures and whether a baby camel sanctuary in New York is technically feasible. Which led me to wondering if my toothless senior dog will let me bottle-feed her breakfast.
Warning: beauty hunting may lead to madness.
Who wouldn’t want a long lashed camel that loves to be bottle fed:-)🐪
"beauty hunting may lead to madness." <3 <3 <3
That kind of madness is perfect
Jodi Picoult wrote about an elephant sanctuary in New Hampshire (Leaving Time). So…who knows 😊
beauty hunting can lead to more creative solutions that we yet know ...
Each time I read you Suleika it is like a gentle balm, reminding me that beauty in the world still exists. I also so appreciate the honesty both you and Jessica have brought to the lived experience of illness and disability. It got me reflecting on my mother (now departed from the world) who had polio and all her life struggled to feel seen and supported....and was also so often ashamed by the idea of using crutches or a wheelchair. Jessica's piece brought some clarity around how so much of this shame comes out of the ablist culture we live in. It deepens my empathy for what my mother was going through. Thank you so much.
My thoughts exactly. I’d never heard of Jessica before this article but I’ve gained a new superwoman to admire!
blushing!
Thank you, Jessica. Creating comfort and care. Yes, allowing these ingredients into our lives. In 2013 my partner died after dealing with cancer for six years. Monica loved, lived, and died, embracing Beauty. She will forever be an inspiration in my life. Soon after Monica died I decided to move. To seek a quiet nest, a small apartment in the woods. Lacking a kitchen table, I decided I needed a table that would always bring a smile, a question, a chuckle. No square or rectangle table. The table I sit at right now as I write this is shaped like an insect. A lovely piece of cherry with a head, or tail, curving edges, and a lovely pedestal made of ash. We “were made for each other”. I have been living with this table for more than ten years and every day another smile, chuckle, and a quiet reminder of Monica’s Beauty. 🌹
I was in a vintage shop not that long ago and saw a table shaped like a horse—so whimsical! I love the idea of an insect even more! Thank you for sharing memories of Monica with us. Sending love!
How is miss Peony?
She is so good! Though I have started calling her Penny, as Peony is a little eeeeeeeeee 😂
I have a Penny but mine is 190lbs lol So glad Suleika finally convinced you to get a canine best friend 😊
Beautiful.
This resonates with me. In September 2020 I contracted COVID and spent 204 days on a ventilator. 3 months on an induced coma and then awake but ventilated before slowly fighting my way back to life bit by bit. I know what it is to be confined to a small room in a body weakened to slug status by atrophied muscles and voiceless but loved and cared for by an amazing team who accompanied me back to health.
I remain on supplemental
Oxygen and attend rehab twice a week but my body and mind are strong thanks to my family, friends and community with includes you Suleika and the contributors to the Isolation Journals.
I turned 60 in July and as always my husband and I chose an outdoor space where it feels as if the walls have fallen away and we are surrounded by 180 degrees of air and sunshine and the full sensory experience of the world that is lacking in ICU. We live in the southern tip of Africa so visiting game lodges and sitting in the presence of elephants in the veld is my happy place.
Dear wonderful Suleika, - such a beautiful post today, with your description of the feast in Tunesia, and you then lying under the pomegranate tree. It opened my eyes for the beauty around me, it softened my heart, sitting here on a foggy November morning, with my dog between my legs, watching the leaves fall outside. Your words make me love this world more, connects me with you and with all the fragility of life, and makes me deeply grateful! I am hoping in the depth of my loving heart that you will feel better soon! Love, Silke
I feel you Suleika. Yesterday my tiny beauty was rummaging through the shops and souk in Marrakesh for a cane. I had left mine in the tourist bus, the driver is now in the Sahara, I was directed to the square and then the souk, with gentle smiles. Finally I had a choice of 3 but the real high point was to talk with people and laugh. That is the real cane for my soul these days.
Thank you so much for this beautiful piece of writing and all it holds. It means a lot to me as I navigate the path of someone very close to me who has the same illness. Finding room to breathe in the fullest sense of the word is challenging and the powers of the mind are staggering when this isn't physically possible. The joy in simplicity hits like a shot of ice on a boiling hot day, like the warmth of a log fire when you come in from the cold. We cherish it, are so grateful for it. Breathing in the simplest sounds of nature. I wish you well. Your writing is truly beautiful.
Thank you, Lucy ♥️ Wishing you moments of ease, of air, of beauty in the midst of it all.
On a daily basis, I visit my mother. She is in an assisted living facility in a hospice, memory care unit. My chronic Elhers- Danlos pain and Sjogren's disease make each day challenging. As noted in the gorgeous writings of these articles, noticing and seeking beauty is difficult and necessary.
Some days I can see it in the
creation of a kind aide who blends veggie soup with chicken salad so my mother can eat something she likes the flavor of. Other days, it is the stroke induced half smile my mother gives me when I put the lotion she enjoys on her bruised and thin skinned hands and arms. Thank you Suleika and Jessica for your beautiful, soul filled writing that reminds me how to see.
Hi EDS buddy :)
Hi Jessica!💕
Thank you, Suleika, this morning your words are so nourishing. You remind me that if I truly wish to live, I need to be open to all that life offers. I can’t edit life and delete the unpleasant. Life is a full palette of colours. There is the richness of light, and dark. I deeply appreciate your description of a family gathering, a celebration in the olive orchard, honoring the harvest. Best wishes, David🏮
I have been a caretaker to my daughter, who at age 16 (she is 24 almost 25 now) when she had a stroke. The recovery and subsequent illnesses (seizures, migraines, oh, the list goes on), and then finally, after so many emotional and finanacial hoops, I was able to move us to "The Happy House," an 1898 4-square with generous front porch and light pouring in from every side. I hold two truths in the two sides of my heart. One side holds the deep mourning over the suffering my daughter goes through on a daily, sometimes nightly basis, the mourning of the loss of my parents both in March 2024, and most recently, the reality that NO ONE at the Frankfurt Buche messe wanted my book. The other side, holds the truth that I am full of grit, determination, stuborn determinedness, whimsical happiness over my mid-70s playlist and a pair of jeans I bought for brand new for $25 that retail for $125. Yes, you can hold shallow things as a path to happiness. Suleika, may your Tunisian retreat remind your body/mind that it is healing with every lush sight, sound and (when possible) smell.
Wishing you moments of peace and reprieve on your front porch 💛 perhaps while wearing your new jeans and listening to 70s music when the weather allows ✨
Oh, Sarah, you know I had those jeans on today, and I took them and my daughter to a vintage festival today. Perfect weather, lots of laughter, a few purchases, and no music as she, let's just say, does not appreciate my taste in music. Well, we have some crossover "likes" like female jazz vocalists. Oh, I think I feel a new playlist coming on!
Thank you for transporting us. For soothing us through your adjusted vision. Through your love. And through your existence. Astoundingly beautiful and healing entry.
This essay touches the essence of life and brings it forward for us to share. Thank you with all my heart. Although not life threatening, I too suffer from chronic pain. I take refuge in the healing that beauty offers whether in the natural world, in poetry and beautiful prose, in how I curate my home and make art. This piece is a balm as I read it. I pray for your healing and peace.🙏
Suleika, thank you for sharing your life with us through your writing. What a beautiful start to my Sunday morning. Thank you for the continued gift of your words and life lessons.
I woke up this morning to the Lessons from an Olive Orchard and Comfort and Care. Thank you for your joyful words which set the tone for my day. Not experiencing even a fraction of the challenges faced by you and Jessica, I am impressed and encouraged by your strength, optimism and ability to see beauty everywhere even during the the most difficult days when finding hope is a struggle. When I am with my family today I will think of you visiting Tunisia, sharing time with your family and quieter moments under the olive and pomegranate trees.
Thank you for sharing these moments with us. I left a party last night because the leg pain due to cancer treatment became unbearable. I sat in my car reminding myself - this is why I drove here, I made it and I last 4 hours. Trying is better then isolating. Even if I don't feel good I try to live while I can and rest went needed. Thank you for making me feel not alone, not crazy and not over exaggerating. ❤️❤️❤️
Suleika and Jessica,
Today before I go to church you are my church .(But isn’t church everywhere?)
One simple thing: When people insists on conversing with me about all the bad of the world—generally within the circle of political talk—I say, “Do not let them take your joy.”
Joy is the last thing I am giving up. It is the result of seeing beauty, because I intentionally look for the beauty.
But also I am reminded of years ago before soft sidewalk curves and doors wide enough for wheelchairs. My grandmother had a stroke and was forced to sit in a wheelchair. But I, in my 20s then (50 years ago) ,decided to take her to the mall she loved.
My family helped get us in the car but we were all so naïve. At the mall, I pushed her all around the wide walkways and she rejoiced at her first real outing. Until she had to go to the bathroom and together we discovered there were no stalls wide enough for her chair.
My grandmother, who never left home without her hair dyed black and her stockings rolled up over her knees, peed on herself!
We both cried. Family came to meet us. My grandfather helped put her in the car. She never went out again. And my eyes were opened to how inadequate a world I lived in.
Wish I could say I knew what to do. I was a single mother with a drug problem. I had other problems to tend too. But I knew to look people in the eyes who sat in wheelchairs, to smile at them and sometimes wink. To even hold a Halloween party for children from Easter Seals. I used my body when I could for anyone who could not use theirs.