Hello All. I loved the video. Hearing you read is bringing what I loved you write here to life "It was so empowering to hear that trust in myself, in my own intuitive knowing."
And this "Such a realization is both comforting and unnerving, in that it implies a certain amount of agency. You don’t need some major breakthrough or a-ha moment. You actually just need to heed what you already know. You need to quiet the unproductive voices so you can listen to that knowing—and return to it when inevitably you stray." Thank you so much for all the words you write today.
I learned last Wednesday of the last of the tests. And I am scared. I messaged the doctor who immediately said he would call Thursday or Friday and then did not. I journaled and walked and talked. And keep reading Suleika's book.( I just finished the story on drawing giraffe's and it is so helpful) My husband is going through all of his feelings. ( it brings up all of his past with the loss of his late wife). And I am grateful to this space. And Suleika.
Sulieka, your letter felt like watching someone unseal a room they’d long kept closed—a room where the air is thick with memory, where the breath returns slowly, as if relearning its way. That earlier self of yours waited so patiently, knowing exactly what would be needed when the breath caught, when the heart forgot its own strength. Jayson, your words arrived like a companion in the dark—naming the demons not to cast them out, but to remind us they come to all who try. Together, what you’ve offered feels like shelter—the kind that lets a weary soul rest for a while before finding its way back to the work.
Lately, I’ve been setting things down, dredging what was buried, hoping it might lighten me. But some nights, the setting down empties me more than it frees me. I feel like a cracked teacup no kintsugi could ever truly restore—not enough to hold what’s poured into me, not enough to trust myself to carry it. I step out barefoot onto the cold terrace bluestone, night air sharp, jasmine heavy as grief. A ringtail possum begins its slow journey through the dark, reaching for the tender leaves of the lilly pilly trees that rise from the floor below. Sometimes I weep. Sometimes I still. The voice that lambasts me softens for a moment, gives me respite. Perhaps I slip inside & draw a bath. Perhaps I stay a while longer, watching, & offer my words only to the moon.
All I know is that I owe the small & other versions of myself to write these chapters of our life down, cracked vessel or not.
What you’ve both shared feels like that kind of mercy—the quiet that finds us in the night, reminding us the cracks are not the end of the story.
Kim, oh Kim, once again, you fill my spirit with such deep emotion. One of my little students (age 4) told me, "Ms. McKnight, the cracks are where the fairies hide." Shall we share our cracks and let the fairies out over a cup of ginger tea with some lemon seeds floating to the bottom.
Oh Mary, what a beautiful little truth your student offered—the cracks are where the fairies hide. I’m going to carry that now, as softly as one might carry a cup of that ginger tea you’ve set before me, lemon seeds & all. Yes, let’s share our cracks. Let’s let the fairies out, one by one.
Thank you, Frau. Yes, I’m aware of the little edit ellipse sitting there on the right—however, as a curious creature, I never use it. It leaves a stain when someone has edited something, & whenever I see that edited beside a post, my mind starts wondering: What was taken out? What words were smoothed, softened, or vanished entirely?
I write in a kind of stream of consciousness, & while my keen proofreading eye usually does its part, sometimes the letters have other plans. They misbehave, dart about, slip through unnoticed & by the time I hit publish, well, there they are, grinning at me. The edit button becomes less a tool, more a reminder of their cheek.
I’ve been absent from the prompts lately. I’m too consumed with everything that’s happening in the World right now. I don’t have a lot of positivity right now. I’m finding it hard to concentrate. I journals are collecting dust. But I want to say I love you all. Suleika I send you love every day.. I still read your posts. Here and on social media. I hope everyone is well and practicing self care.
I share the feeling that any positivity in myself is getting buried in the sorrows of our time. It's so nice to see familiar names here, even if only a few words, so thank you.
Laurie, Ditto. Even the richest or delightful moments get marred or interrupted by the heaviness of the world, like yesterday afternoon when we turned our phones back on after watching the MUST watch film Sabbath Queen. I feel you and send you hugs.
Thank you. It is uncommon to find a human being who, as she is going through her own complicated personal journey, is also thinking of other people and how her lessons might also be ours. Her realizations, as well.
Thank you for sharing yours so we can pluck up the courage to share our own.
I read this week, Life Needs Frosting!! On a Cinnabon box!!!
Your letter to yourself is a jewel. How often we all feel the need for the gold star. I give them to myself!!!
I’m not waiting for others to see my light!! Give yourself the big A+, the gold star daily !! Hourly!!
My daddy always said, “ stay in tune to about 4 Hrs!!” That’s about all we can handle, and you only have to please the person in the mirror . ( he was awesome , and not so awesome!) ( like all of us)
The first thing I when I get to work is to paste a sticker with an affirmation on my calendar that way I can be sure that I get at least one piece of positive reinforcement a day. Between the patients who scream and curse at me all day and administrators who are always on our case the sticker gives me the right start for the day.
I have never written a comment to you - but i look forward to your newsletter every weekend. I’m going through a thing myself and as you said - I can’t take a full, deep breath - and wow did this make me smile. Thanks for being such a wonderful writer and real person!!
I am Kinsuki...broken, shattered, and slowly putting the pieces back together with gold. I have a letter, prose really that I had written to myself at the lowest.
Dear Suleika it continues to boggle my mind how many times the letters you write here express exactly what is going on in my life. I have spent the better part of my life trying to please others, do everything the right way and wait for the acknowledgements that never come. After many years in an emotionally abusive marriage, I suddenly realized that I needed to be my own cheerleader and that the love I poured into others, I needed to give myself first. That everything I needed to be happy and at peace was already within me. I just needed to listen to what my intuition and inner voice was telling me and not listen to anxious thoughts or negative perceptions of myself which stemmed from how other people in my life had characterized me. “You’re too sensitive” . A line spoken about me so many times, in a negative way, I now see as my strength. I have come to learn that our parents, siblings, friends and other people that we meet sometimes form an impression of us based on their own shortcomings and therefore can be projections. We must be our own champions and in moments of doubt remind ourselves of all we have done before and have faith that motivation, and creativity will resume when we have taken the necessary time to rest and digest.
Hello Suleika, I feel as though I am living in a parallel world with you right now.
A tree crashing through the roof of my little “ Den of Dreams” created flooding and a “hot mess”.
Decades of books, papers, journals letters and junk mail! Why did I save junk mail in the same box as precious ephemera ?!
Not all has been lost , but a lot of very sentimental items were too destroyed to be salvaged .
Other boxes contained, like yours, surprises of projects I had forgotten about and diaries from childhood.
As I open another box in the massive pile, I never know what decade it might bring back .
I am in my own reality show of “Deborah Colette Murphy, This is your life”.
There are tears; there are smiles.
I shared this already but it still astounds me …I recently found an old journal from May 11, 1985. I opened it on May 11, 2025.
I had written, “I not have enough time to think, read or write.“
I wrote that exact sentence recently!
At the kernel, in my core, I am still that young woman, a seeker, a Pilgrim…
Journal Journeys
Throughout the years, across the decades
A common refrain is repeated
A lifelong process
Box by box I find my way…
Toss, recycle, save … Repeat…
Love from Deborah Colette Murphy, usually down a dirt road in the woods of Southern Oregon, but after much ado & an emergency return to SF airport, I have arrived at Newark Airport.
Soon to be picked up by a college friend who is greatly featured in my life & in those decades of boxes!
Missing THE HATCH live today but will follow up later !
Yet another war, far too many. Could I have been like Louisa May Alcott, a nurse in the Civil War. Why not me Shaw's St. Joan feisty and vulnerable. Could not I have been in the battle of Bataan, or one of Crazy Wolf's warriors at Little Big Horn.I did not appreciate "All Quiet on The Western Front" in high school now I do. I remember waking up when the US went into Vietnam, Iraq, and now Iran. All and so many other atrocities have crossed my door. One of my greatest disappointments is not going South with Elaine during early Civil Rights. I hope that I am not too passive a warrior? Hence comes writing.. for whom? I don't know for whom... maybe somebody.
Suleika, so much of what you said spoke to me. And as a bereaved mother myself who participated in a “writing your grief” program / group much of what Jayson said spoke to me. Thank you 🙏🏼
Just reading along, because I am feeling in despair, with what is happening right now. Please forgive me. As always I appreciate seeing your email every Sunday.
This morning, before reading this week’s Isolation Journals, I read this quote: “My body is a hammock for my soul today.” Rosemary Woodruff Leary (in the great new book: The Acid Queen by Susannah Cahalan)
What an incredible concept to embrace; then I read some of the cruel comments Suleika has received. I am sick & often at war with my own perceptions of my body, let alone what I am afraid others might think.
Today I am going to try to rest totally guilt-free in my hammock.
Also totally grateful for the inspiring, beautiful community of the Isolation Journals. Thank you, Suleika & all
Love this "“My body is a hammock for my soul today.” Makes me think of everything I just read in Karen Walrond's Radiant Rebellion. And, as the temperatures skyrocket (literally and metaphorically), it's an apt and necessary thought. Thanks for sharing.
I am 100% grateful for your vulnerability, your truth telling. And for sharing Jayson’s powerful essay. I’ve been writing on this platform for a few months and you two just fortified me. I will get out of bed, stretch, feel the sunshine on my face, take the dog out. And write. ❤️
Suleika sharing your vulnerability & truth on video is priceless. I have such appreciation for the courage it takes to be vulnerable. Bless you. You give us permission to be vulnerable. I was in theatre for 10 years. I went into late at age 35, because I’ve always loved performing but never received the support. So I did it for 10 years & stopped because I knew I was taking the rejection personally so I had to stop to take care of myself. Thru the years I found other avenues of creative expression like writing which led me to standup storytelling. I’ve come home!
Hello All. I loved the video. Hearing you read is bringing what I loved you write here to life "It was so empowering to hear that trust in myself, in my own intuitive knowing."
And this "Such a realization is both comforting and unnerving, in that it implies a certain amount of agency. You don’t need some major breakthrough or a-ha moment. You actually just need to heed what you already know. You need to quiet the unproductive voices so you can listen to that knowing—and return to it when inevitably you stray." Thank you so much for all the words you write today.
I learned last Wednesday of the last of the tests. And I am scared. I messaged the doctor who immediately said he would call Thursday or Friday and then did not. I journaled and walked and talked. And keep reading Suleika's book.( I just finished the story on drawing giraffe's and it is so helpful) My husband is going through all of his feelings. ( it brings up all of his past with the loss of his late wife). And I am grateful to this space. And Suleika.
Less spinning, more closed eye giraffes! Sending you love and strength as you navigate test results and treatment ❤️
Thank you. 💕
Sending hugs, strength and prayers, Gina. I hate it when they don't call when they say they will! xo
Thank you. 💕
Prayers up Gina!
💕
dear gina, a big, long warm hug and a good dose of "wallowing" for you, however you want to define it!
💕
Wishing you peace in this difficult time, Gina. I'm grateful you are here.
💕 Thank you!!
Sulieka, your letter felt like watching someone unseal a room they’d long kept closed—a room where the air is thick with memory, where the breath returns slowly, as if relearning its way. That earlier self of yours waited so patiently, knowing exactly what would be needed when the breath caught, when the heart forgot its own strength. Jayson, your words arrived like a companion in the dark—naming the demons not to cast them out, but to remind us they come to all who try. Together, what you’ve offered feels like shelter—the kind that lets a weary soul rest for a while before finding its way back to the work.
Lately, I’ve been setting things down, dredging what was buried, hoping it might lighten me. But some nights, the setting down empties me more than it frees me. I feel like a cracked teacup no kintsugi could ever truly restore—not enough to hold what’s poured into me, not enough to trust myself to carry it. I step out barefoot onto the cold terrace bluestone, night air sharp, jasmine heavy as grief. A ringtail possum begins its slow journey through the dark, reaching for the tender leaves of the lilly pilly trees that rise from the floor below. Sometimes I weep. Sometimes I still. The voice that lambasts me softens for a moment, gives me respite. Perhaps I slip inside & draw a bath. Perhaps I stay a while longer, watching, & offer my words only to the moon.
All I know is that I owe the small & other versions of myself to write these chapters of our life down, cracked vessel or not.
What you’ve both shared feels like that kind of mercy—the quiet that finds us in the night, reminding us the cracks are not the end of the story.
Kim, oh Kim, once again, you fill my spirit with such deep emotion. One of my little students (age 4) told me, "Ms. McKnight, the cracks are where the fairies hide." Shall we share our cracks and let the fairies out over a cup of ginger tea with some lemon seeds floating to the bottom.
Oh Mary, what a beautiful little truth your student offered—the cracks are where the fairies hide. I’m going to carry that now, as softly as one might carry a cup of that ginger tea you’ve set before me, lemon seeds & all. Yes, let’s share our cracks. Let’s let the fairies out, one by one.
Suleika, please forgive me for misspelling your beautiful name.
You can edit your comments. Press the three dots to the right of the comment and select “edit.”
Thank you, Frau. Yes, I’m aware of the little edit ellipse sitting there on the right—however, as a curious creature, I never use it. It leaves a stain when someone has edited something, & whenever I see that edited beside a post, my mind starts wondering: What was taken out? What words were smoothed, softened, or vanished entirely?
I write in a kind of stream of consciousness, & while my keen proofreading eye usually does its part, sometimes the letters have other plans. They misbehave, dart about, slip through unnoticed & by the time I hit publish, well, there they are, grinning at me. The edit button becomes less a tool, more a reminder of their cheek.
I love the way your mind works, Kim. Even your replies are equal part poetic & mischievous! Marvellous.
I’ve been absent from the prompts lately. I’m too consumed with everything that’s happening in the World right now. I don’t have a lot of positivity right now. I’m finding it hard to concentrate. I journals are collecting dust. But I want to say I love you all. Suleika I send you love every day.. I still read your posts. Here and on social media. I hope everyone is well and practicing self care.
I think it's okay not to feel positivity, Laurie. You are seen here and that is a beautiful thing.
Seconding Mary! ❤️❤️
Thank you Mary.
Laurie totally get where you’re at!
I’m so sad😥
I can totally relate to being unsure about the world situation right now.😥
💔
Take good care of thyself, Laurie. ❤️
Thank you. You too.
I share the feeling that any positivity in myself is getting buried in the sorrows of our time. It's so nice to see familiar names here, even if only a few words, so thank you.
Laurie, Ditto. Even the richest or delightful moments get marred or interrupted by the heaviness of the world, like yesterday afternoon when we turned our phones back on after watching the MUST watch film Sabbath Queen. I feel you and send you hugs.
Thank you. It is uncommon to find a human being who, as she is going through her own complicated personal journey, is also thinking of other people and how her lessons might also be ours. Her realizations, as well.
Thank you for sharing yours so we can pluck up the courage to share our own.
S, Good Early Morning, you enhancer of joy!!
I read this week, Life Needs Frosting!! On a Cinnabon box!!!
Your letter to yourself is a jewel. How often we all feel the need for the gold star. I give them to myself!!!
I’m not waiting for others to see my light!! Give yourself the big A+, the gold star daily !! Hourly!!
My daddy always said, “ stay in tune to about 4 Hrs!!” That’s about all we can handle, and you only have to please the person in the mirror . ( he was awesome , and not so awesome!) ( like all of us)
Words flow from you, keep the spigot open.
❤️❤️❤️❤️
I’ve heard 24 hours but honestly 4 seems much more doable!!
The first thing I when I get to work is to paste a sticker with an affirmation on my calendar that way I can be sure that I get at least one piece of positive reinforcement a day. Between the patients who scream and curse at me all day and administrators who are always on our case the sticker gives me the right start for the day.
I have never written a comment to you - but i look forward to your newsletter every weekend. I’m going through a thing myself and as you said - I can’t take a full, deep breath - and wow did this make me smile. Thanks for being such a wonderful writer and real person!!
Thank you for this note, Julie—I’m so happy you’re here ❤️
I am Kinsuki...broken, shattered, and slowly putting the pieces back together with gold. I have a letter, prose really that I had written to myself at the lowest.
Removed
One swipe at a time
Piece by piece
Layer by layer
Pleading to stay
Begging to be affirmed
Someone, notice that I am here
I know I am here
I feel the stabs of pain
I wipe the flood of tears
And sit in a puddle on a cold floor
That probably needs a washing
But it’s not only my dirt, not only my footprints
In the end…it is only me.
I am
The erasable girl.
I love the synchronicity in this. And Jayson’s story is such a beautiful prompt. Thank you.
Such synchronicity! So glad today’s offerings resonated ❤️
Dear Suleika it continues to boggle my mind how many times the letters you write here express exactly what is going on in my life. I have spent the better part of my life trying to please others, do everything the right way and wait for the acknowledgements that never come. After many years in an emotionally abusive marriage, I suddenly realized that I needed to be my own cheerleader and that the love I poured into others, I needed to give myself first. That everything I needed to be happy and at peace was already within me. I just needed to listen to what my intuition and inner voice was telling me and not listen to anxious thoughts or negative perceptions of myself which stemmed from how other people in my life had characterized me. “You’re too sensitive” . A line spoken about me so many times, in a negative way, I now see as my strength. I have come to learn that our parents, siblings, friends and other people that we meet sometimes form an impression of us based on their own shortcomings and therefore can be projections. We must be our own champions and in moments of doubt remind ourselves of all we have done before and have faith that motivation, and creativity will resume when we have taken the necessary time to rest and digest.
Hello Suleika, I feel as though I am living in a parallel world with you right now.
A tree crashing through the roof of my little “ Den of Dreams” created flooding and a “hot mess”.
Decades of books, papers, journals letters and junk mail! Why did I save junk mail in the same box as precious ephemera ?!
Not all has been lost , but a lot of very sentimental items were too destroyed to be salvaged .
Other boxes contained, like yours, surprises of projects I had forgotten about and diaries from childhood.
As I open another box in the massive pile, I never know what decade it might bring back .
I am in my own reality show of “Deborah Colette Murphy, This is your life”.
There are tears; there are smiles.
I shared this already but it still astounds me …I recently found an old journal from May 11, 1985. I opened it on May 11, 2025.
I had written, “I not have enough time to think, read or write.“
I wrote that exact sentence recently!
At the kernel, in my core, I am still that young woman, a seeker, a Pilgrim…
Journal Journeys
Throughout the years, across the decades
A common refrain is repeated
A lifelong process
Box by box I find my way…
Toss, recycle, save … Repeat…
Love from Deborah Colette Murphy, usually down a dirt road in the woods of Southern Oregon, but after much ado & an emergency return to SF airport, I have arrived at Newark Airport.
Soon to be picked up by a college friend who is greatly featured in my life & in those decades of boxes!
Missing THE HATCH live today but will follow up later !
Oh no, Deb! We’re thinking about you ❤️
Dear Self,
Yet another war, far too many. Could I have been like Louisa May Alcott, a nurse in the Civil War. Why not me Shaw's St. Joan feisty and vulnerable. Could not I have been in the battle of Bataan, or one of Crazy Wolf's warriors at Little Big Horn.I did not appreciate "All Quiet on The Western Front" in high school now I do. I remember waking up when the US went into Vietnam, Iraq, and now Iran. All and so many other atrocities have crossed my door. One of my greatest disappointments is not going South with Elaine during early Civil Rights. I hope that I am not too passive a warrior? Hence comes writing.. for whom? I don't know for whom... maybe somebody.
Yours with Compassion ...onward
maemae
Suleika, so much of what you said spoke to me. And as a bereaved mother myself who participated in a “writing your grief” program / group much of what Jayson said spoke to me. Thank you 🙏🏼
🙏
💕
Just reading along, because I am feeling in despair, with what is happening right now. Please forgive me. As always I appreciate seeing your email every Sunday.
No apology necessary! It seems to me like you’re listening to your intuition ❤️❤️
Hugs.
This morning, before reading this week’s Isolation Journals, I read this quote: “My body is a hammock for my soul today.” Rosemary Woodruff Leary (in the great new book: The Acid Queen by Susannah Cahalan)
What an incredible concept to embrace; then I read some of the cruel comments Suleika has received. I am sick & often at war with my own perceptions of my body, let alone what I am afraid others might think.
Today I am going to try to rest totally guilt-free in my hammock.
Also totally grateful for the inspiring, beautiful community of the Isolation Journals. Thank you, Suleika & all
❤️❤️❤️
Love this "“My body is a hammock for my soul today.” Makes me think of everything I just read in Karen Walrond's Radiant Rebellion. And, as the temperatures skyrocket (literally and metaphorically), it's an apt and necessary thought. Thanks for sharing.
I am 100% grateful for your vulnerability, your truth telling. And for sharing Jayson’s powerful essay. I’ve been writing on this platform for a few months and you two just fortified me. I will get out of bed, stretch, feel the sunshine on my face, take the dog out. And write. ❤️
Suleika sharing your vulnerability & truth on video is priceless. I have such appreciation for the courage it takes to be vulnerable. Bless you. You give us permission to be vulnerable. I was in theatre for 10 years. I went into late at age 35, because I’ve always loved performing but never received the support. So I did it for 10 years & stopped because I knew I was taking the rejection personally so I had to stop to take care of myself. Thru the years I found other avenues of creative expression like writing which led me to standup storytelling. I’ve come home!