Y’all know I like to be upfront about these things, so consider this your salty language warning. If you’re easily offended you can skip down to the next section, or skip this issue entirely.

Hi y’all,

Well here we are again, three months since the last newsletter. I could list here all of the reasons for the gap; like how we’ve been in and out of town, and how finishing up our school year took so much out of me, and how just living life these last few months has left me with very little spare time. And those things would all be true. But they wouldn’t be the most true. The most true thing could be illustrated by what just happened as I was putting the finishing touches on this letter.

I opened up Instagram to grab a link to the creator of a poem I share below, and the first thing in my feed was this video. I didn’t even read the captions, I just watched. In horror. And then I sat at my desk and I sobbed. And I sobbed. And I sobbed. (For you non-insta folks, the video is a news clip of an Iranian man and woman being arrested by a team of masked men, while the pair’s pastor stands by, angry and in shock, trying to explain that they are here on asylum for religious persecution; that they are Christians who, if sent back to Iran, will likely be executed. The woman, who clearly has either a mental or medical condition, panics, screams, and lays on the ground convulsing while the pastor looks on, pleading for the men to get off of her and to call her some help. He asks where they are being taken, and is told they will not tell him. He asks to go with them, and is told no. They threaten to arrest him as well, despite being a US citizen.)

Life has been busy. The end of the school year was draining. And we’ve been out of town a lot. But the most real reality is that I. Am. Exhausted. From. This. Fuckery. We were not meant to carry this much grief. I am exhausted from the grief.

I cannot watch another video of Palestinian parents weeping over their children’s dead bodies. I cannot watch another immigrant being ripped off the streets, out of their churches, or away from their children to be sent, without due process, to a country they’ve never been. I cannot see another citizen arrested for disagreeing with the government. I cannot read any more about how many people are about to lose health care. Or jobs. Or access to food. I cannot wake up another day wondering if my children will continue to have access to the vaccines that I know keep them safe, or whether or not their peers will have access to the true account of history that I at least know mine are getting.

Every day I’m left wanting off this planet even more badly than I did the day before.

And yet…

And yet there is still deep down, somewhere, a teeny, tiny spark inside - the tiny flame, if you could even call it that, of a worn out candle with a too-short wick that looks as though an infant’s breath could extinguish it - a spark that wants so badly to see beauty. To find beauty, and to make beauty, and to share beauty. There is a constant battle in my head and in my heart between wanting to throw in the towel, to scream into the void for all of eternity; and wanting to keep insisting that joy and beauty and god exist despite all evidence to the contrary. Carrying these together feels impossible. And I am so tired.

I had already planned to end this letter by letting you know that I was struggling to have much to say myself, but that I’ve tried to share some good things below. Some of it probably comes off a little nonchalant, which may feel like whiplash after this heavy intro. But honestly that’s what I feel most days anymore, whiplash. And I suspect (I know, actually, from conversations I’ve been fortunate enough to have with some of you) that it may be how you feel many days too.

I’m also adding the caveat that I’m not putting in my typical editing time on this, so beware grammatical errors and spicy spelling. I just don’t have it in me tonight.

I hope you’re managing to fare better than I, and still always love to hear from you, so write me back.

much love -

kg

THE TEARS OF THINGS

I love this quote from Richard Rohr, and it feels particularly relevant just now:

“Only tears can move… us beyond our deserved and paralyzing anger at evil, death, and injustice without losing the deep legitimacy of that anger.”  

AWAY / TOWARD

Right now I am moving away from:

• Listening to music, podcasts, or anything else that isn’t the sound of my neighborhood while I walk my dog.

• Falling into the trap of believing that the noise of social media actually represents the majority of people or opinions.

• Doing anything to my hair in the morning besides just clipping it up. It’s too damn hot.

and moving toward:

• Sitting outside every morning, even if just for a few minutes, listening for frogs and cicadas, and counting the number of times the hummingbird visits the feeder.

• Offering grace, even and especially when it’s hard to do.

• Homemade popsicles.

REVERSE PET PEEVES, A LIST

Inside a recent NYT Wellness newsletter was a story called Happiness Doesn’t Have to Be a Heavy Lift, which talked about the small ways experts suggested to stay sane in this crazy world. Perhaps my favorite was the idea of “Reverse Pet Peeves"; if a pet peeve is a small thing that disproportionately annoys you, a reverse pet peeve is a small thing that brings you disproportionate joy. I love this idea, and have started making a list of mine:

• The feeling of stepping outside from the freezing cold of air conditioning into the abundant warmth of sunshine. Those first few moments are perfection.

• Iced mushroom coffee in the afternoon. (And yes, I know this one is weird.)

• Successfully getting dressed to leave the house in one take.

• Wearing these sunglasses. They make me feel much cooler than I am, and they give everything a warm rosy hue.

GODISAWOMAN

God is a woman,
And she listens to naked, chubby, angel babies sing emo love songs for her to cry to Because she is heartbroken over the earth.

She loves:
Taxidermy, Blasphemy and the Camera Because it is the closest people have come to beating Death, God, and Time.

Her favorite Beetle is George.
Who was a dung beetle who lived 400 years ago in a desert that isn’t there anymore. And I don’t know,

He just understood her like nobody else ever could.

She throws crumpled up bad ideas at black holes while chenneling Kobe. And even when she misses we still get stars.

And she is absolutely obsessed with the song You’re So Vain

But not the Carly Simon version.

She likes it when a man named Bruce from Bismark sings it every morning in the shower to annoy his teenage daughters. She’s had it on repeat in his head for months now.

And has no plans of taking it away
Any time soon.

-Trev Cimenski
from Some What Small

RECENTLY

LISTENING TO

A lot of John Mayer. Room for Squares never gets old.

READING IN

Dan McClellan’s The Bible Says So: What We Get Right (and Wrong) About Scripture’s Most Controversial Issues. A bit academic and a tiny bit tedious in places, but I absolutely love his scholarly approach.

CRUSHING ON

Usually whenever my friends make really good stuff, I try to pass it along to you all. But I’m afraid I’ve been negligent. My friend Aaron started a Substack a few months ago and it is really, really good. He’s shared stories about photographing John Stewart, about the time Nikki Giovanni’s dog bit him, and shared all sorts of other “what I’ve been up to lately” type posts. But I think my favorites are when he delves back into the depths of his catalog and shares older images and the stories that go with them, such as these. I love seeing how much his photographic voice has both evolved and stayed the same, in the best ways. And his writing is always on point.

OBSESSED WITH

This homemade dark chocolate and sea salt granola. We’ve been having it sprinkled over fresh berries and something similar to this yogurt/whipped cream blend for breakfast, and let me tell you, it’s addictive. Works well over ice cream too, or if you’re like me even just straight out of the bag.

THINKING ABOUT

This absolutely incredible episode of The Ezra Klein Show, interviewing Congresswoman Sarah McBride. Look, I really try not to be preachy, but every single person in this country should listen to this conversation. While on the surface it’s about a particular issue, it goes much deeper into how we lost our way as a country, and why we should all get off the internet and go be around some real, actual, human people again.

That’s all for this month. Thanks for being here!