When we water the garden of our imagination, all kinds of things can bloom: hope, magic, secrets, forgiveness and worlds we wish to conjure out of thin air.
Love all of these essayettes, most especially magic and hope.
Magic this year so far are small things:
Invitation to be featured Storyteller for Festival UnBound: theme Where I Live. My stories will focus on living in one's heart.
Seeing Cirque du Soleil's Crystal which combines circus arts with ice skating. Captivating! The storyline was deeply moving: Crystal is searching for a place to fit in, be seen & appreciated. She falls through the ice and through a series of encounters she finds she can "write her own joy." It was beautifully poignant and profound!
Another bigger magic is the trip to visit you. My 1st international trip since being the primary caregiver for my own mother. I'm so grateful to see you in your new home & to celebrate a milestone with you!
Amy, all these essayettes are so so lovely! Your room is described beautifully, and the way you move from the haunting secret of your mother's handling near death, to the love letter for your mother, is so tender and touching. There is much love, and hope, and room for discovery that has left me feeling your magic!
Magic I've witnessed this year so far: 1. making snow angels on a frozen lake; 2. a friend calling in the middle of a workday sounding like she was crying, me worried something was wrong. She called to tell me how she had just read one of my stories and needed to talk to me right then to share how much it had moved her.
Such a beautiful and heartwarming post about your mother today. After going through similar situations with my oldest sister at Christmas time, your words pulled at my heartstrings. You are so blessed to have such warm and loving memories with your mother and I love how you honor her daily. I hope Barcelona has that "room" of your own just as you envisioned it. Let the magic begin...
Your words about your mother touched me deeply. The guilt and regret you describe are so raw and honest. It takes courage to share such a vulnerable moment, and I commend you for it. Your story reminded me of my own experiences with loss and the importance of forgiveness, both for ourselves and others. It's a process, and I'm still learning to navigate it. Thank you for sharing your journey and reminding us that we're all in this together.
Oh Amy. This. So much beautiful language, so much dreaming and possibility and wonder. And then the piece about your mother dying. Oh oh oh. That brought so much emotion to the surface, about my own mother and her human-ness and how I have turned away from her pain throughout our lives. You've inspired me, so deeply, to remember how fleeting our time here together in these glorious bodies is, and to not turn away but step towards her even more, even when it is the most difficult. Thank you thank you for that. For sharing that secret with us. It was so beautifully written, so caring, I could feel you holding her in your arms with your love that came through your words and your appeal for forgiveness. And then this, "“Amy,” you said, sitting next to me at the kitchen table. “I have all the time in the world. Tell me in your own words.” Absolute magic.
Magic: one friend sending me a card full of love and generosity and deep caring last week while another told me a few days later I was a liar and she had no interest in being my friend.
Secret: I fostered a dog for nearly two years, adopted her even, and I could not, no matter what I did, how hard I tried, love her enough or help her to feel safe enough in the world and she bit two people. I gave her back to the shelter (no kill).That's not the secret, though it is full of shame still. The secret is I have never followed up to see how she is, if she got the person she needed. I cannot bear to know if something bad has happened to her because I couldn't help her.
That time at the beginning of January when this incredible community caught me while I was free falling at light speed after hitting yet another deep, deep low. The situation isn't resolved, but instead of being retraumatized—something my therapist and psychiatrist both confirmed would have happened—I found freedom from the oppressive grip of my mother’s influence. In that moment, I discovered the last parts of my inner true self.
I began this year with the intention of connection and authorship, and in unexpected ways, I received both.
My life still feels suspended in mid-air, and I continue to seek serendipity, hoping it will show me the path into the future. That future, though, I’ve realized, cannot be in Germany. Despite the legal protections regarding my non-binary and lesbian identity, much of my trauma stems from 16 deeply ingrained issues tied to German society, belief systems, and history.
Since 1982, when I was just 15, I’ve wanted to live in an English-speaking country, away from the suffocating constraints of the place I was born. It may not end up being an English-speaking country—my French is rusty but revivable, and my Spanish, though also rusty, can be expanded and built upon—but I’m open to exploring other countries as well. And I am a generalist. I can do many things.
What I’ve come to understand now is that if I don't speak about this, how can serendipity find me? So, here I am sharing it.
Amy, you have been one of the incredible, kind souls who caught me in that free fall, and for that, I’ll always be immensely grateful.
Oh I love this for you, Jay, "I found freedom from the oppressive grip of my mother’s influence. In that moment, I discovered the last parts of my inner true self." oh oh oh, this, Jay, "What I’ve come to understand now is that if I don't speak about this, how can serendipity find me? So, here I am sharing it." That is so so so powerful. Words I needed to hear today.
And this is just so beautiful, "Amy, you have been one of the incredible, kind souls who caught me in that free fall, and for that, I’ll always be immensely grateful."
I wrote that comment in Amy’s space, addressing her, but I could have named every regular participating Lovelet—including you. That community has given me something I have never had before: a place where I feel seen, nourished, heard, accepted, loved, held, supported, cherished, and uplifted.
And it isn’t just in that one space. I find it in many places here on Substack. I have often spoken about my social isolation, and I hope that one day, I will live somewhere outside Germany where this kind of community exists beyond the virtual world.
That made me cry in such a good way. to know that your soul was aching for belonging and that you found it in all the ways. That just makes being human a little bit easier today. It helps me remember that there are really good, kind, wonderful humans in the world helping others feel enough - more than enough.
I wish that for you too. I believe that when we speak our deepest wishes, especially into sacred spaces like these, it is amplified and heard. So much love to you.
That is so sweet, Jocelyn. Thank you so much. I am deeply touched by your words. There is more good than bad in this world, even when it sometimes feels hard to see. Our negativity bias often tries to amplify the fear, the danger, but when we stop and truly look, we can see the possibility of peace, connection, and love. So next time fear rises, maybe ask yourself: is my life truly in immediate danger, or is it the possibility of harm that feels overwhelming? It's okay to feel fear—it’s just a moment in time. Life isn’t always kind, but there’s always a solution waiting to be found. And you’re right—there are always more sacred spaces if we’re open to them. Take care, Sweetie. You got this. Love you. 💖
Love all of these essayettes, most especially magic and hope.
Magic this year so far are small things:
Invitation to be featured Storyteller for Festival UnBound: theme Where I Live. My stories will focus on living in one's heart.
Seeing Cirque du Soleil's Crystal which combines circus arts with ice skating. Captivating! The storyline was deeply moving: Crystal is searching for a place to fit in, be seen & appreciated. She falls through the ice and through a series of encounters she finds she can "write her own joy." It was beautifully poignant and profound!
Another bigger magic is the trip to visit you. My 1st international trip since being the primary caregiver for my own mother. I'm so grateful to see you in your new home & to celebrate a milestone with you!
Here's to the magic all around us!
Amy, all these essayettes are so so lovely! Your room is described beautifully, and the way you move from the haunting secret of your mother's handling near death, to the love letter for your mother, is so tender and touching. There is much love, and hope, and room for discovery that has left me feeling your magic!
Magic I've witnessed this year so far: 1. making snow angels on a frozen lake; 2. a friend calling in the middle of a workday sounding like she was crying, me worried something was wrong. She called to tell me how she had just read one of my stories and needed to talk to me right then to share how much it had moved her.
Such a beautiful and heartwarming post about your mother today. After going through similar situations with my oldest sister at Christmas time, your words pulled at my heartstrings. You are so blessed to have such warm and loving memories with your mother and I love how you honor her daily. I hope Barcelona has that "room" of your own just as you envisioned it. Let the magic begin...
Your words about your mother touched me deeply. The guilt and regret you describe are so raw and honest. It takes courage to share such a vulnerable moment, and I commend you for it. Your story reminded me of my own experiences with loss and the importance of forgiveness, both for ourselves and others. It's a process, and I'm still learning to navigate it. Thank you for sharing your journey and reminding us that we're all in this together.
Oh Amy. This. So much beautiful language, so much dreaming and possibility and wonder. And then the piece about your mother dying. Oh oh oh. That brought so much emotion to the surface, about my own mother and her human-ness and how I have turned away from her pain throughout our lives. You've inspired me, so deeply, to remember how fleeting our time here together in these glorious bodies is, and to not turn away but step towards her even more, even when it is the most difficult. Thank you thank you for that. For sharing that secret with us. It was so beautifully written, so caring, I could feel you holding her in your arms with your love that came through your words and your appeal for forgiveness. And then this, "“Amy,” you said, sitting next to me at the kitchen table. “I have all the time in the world. Tell me in your own words.” Absolute magic.
Magic: one friend sending me a card full of love and generosity and deep caring last week while another told me a few days later I was a liar and she had no interest in being my friend.
Secret: I fostered a dog for nearly two years, adopted her even, and I could not, no matter what I did, how hard I tried, love her enough or help her to feel safe enough in the world and she bit two people. I gave her back to the shelter (no kill).That's not the secret, though it is full of shame still. The secret is I have never followed up to see how she is, if she got the person she needed. I cannot bear to know if something bad has happened to her because I couldn't help her.
Our magic within is more beautiful than AI
That time at the beginning of January when this incredible community caught me while I was free falling at light speed after hitting yet another deep, deep low. The situation isn't resolved, but instead of being retraumatized—something my therapist and psychiatrist both confirmed would have happened—I found freedom from the oppressive grip of my mother’s influence. In that moment, I discovered the last parts of my inner true self.
I began this year with the intention of connection and authorship, and in unexpected ways, I received both.
My life still feels suspended in mid-air, and I continue to seek serendipity, hoping it will show me the path into the future. That future, though, I’ve realized, cannot be in Germany. Despite the legal protections regarding my non-binary and lesbian identity, much of my trauma stems from 16 deeply ingrained issues tied to German society, belief systems, and history.
Since 1982, when I was just 15, I’ve wanted to live in an English-speaking country, away from the suffocating constraints of the place I was born. It may not end up being an English-speaking country—my French is rusty but revivable, and my Spanish, though also rusty, can be expanded and built upon—but I’m open to exploring other countries as well. And I am a generalist. I can do many things.
What I’ve come to understand now is that if I don't speak about this, how can serendipity find me? So, here I am sharing it.
Amy, you have been one of the incredible, kind souls who caught me in that free fall, and for that, I’ll always be immensely grateful.
Oh I love this for you, Jay, "I found freedom from the oppressive grip of my mother’s influence. In that moment, I discovered the last parts of my inner true self." oh oh oh, this, Jay, "What I’ve come to understand now is that if I don't speak about this, how can serendipity find me? So, here I am sharing it." That is so so so powerful. Words I needed to hear today.
And this is just so beautiful, "Amy, you have been one of the incredible, kind souls who caught me in that free fall, and for that, I’ll always be immensely grateful."
We are all so lucky we have Amy in our worlds. xo
Jocelyn, your words are a balm to my SOUL.
I wrote that comment in Amy’s space, addressing her, but I could have named every regular participating Lovelet—including you. That community has given me something I have never had before: a place where I feel seen, nourished, heard, accepted, loved, held, supported, cherished, and uplifted.
And it isn’t just in that one space. I find it in many places here on Substack. I have often spoken about my social isolation, and I hope that one day, I will live somewhere outside Germany where this kind of community exists beyond the virtual world.
That made me cry in such a good way. to know that your soul was aching for belonging and that you found it in all the ways. That just makes being human a little bit easier today. It helps me remember that there are really good, kind, wonderful humans in the world helping others feel enough - more than enough.
I wish that for you too. I believe that when we speak our deepest wishes, especially into sacred spaces like these, it is amplified and heard. So much love to you.
xoxox
That is so sweet, Jocelyn. Thank you so much. I am deeply touched by your words. There is more good than bad in this world, even when it sometimes feels hard to see. Our negativity bias often tries to amplify the fear, the danger, but when we stop and truly look, we can see the possibility of peace, connection, and love. So next time fear rises, maybe ask yourself: is my life truly in immediate danger, or is it the possibility of harm that feels overwhelming? It's okay to feel fear—it’s just a moment in time. Life isn’t always kind, but there’s always a solution waiting to be found. And you’re right—there are always more sacred spaces if we’re open to them. Take care, Sweetie. You got this. Love you. 💖