We have had freezing temperatures here in northern Scotland, and snow, the kind that you wait for without realising because any suggestion of seasons happening as they should eases the persistent anxiety of climate. The valley quietened, and having decided to hold our Christmas on the 17th and 18th of January—in the living room, as two people, one houseplant (the
"To think about the world and its ongoing pain is synonymous with needing ways to cope, and if one can find ways of coping then there is far more availability inside the nervous body to act." This, this, this.
Moved (unsurprisingly) to tears, Ella. Very little gives me courage and encouragement to hold on to hope in spite of the cruelties of the world the way your newsletter does. Thank you. Sending you much love.
Thank you for this tender note Dhruvi—I'm touched and astonished, and glad, and send love back in your direction. This really is my only and main wish for the newsletter, that it is capable of providing courage and encouragement despite it all.
What a beautiful introduction this was to your work, Ella. Having moved from place to place over these past few years, this really spoke to me - "Moving house has felt like taking a long, furred animal that you usually only see from above, and placing it stomach-up, soft underfur showing the skin below, and needing to step a bit more carefully between decisions for fear of disturbing—disturbing anything." Such an interesting way of describing the unfamiliar & the unknown. Wishing you comfort as you settle into the new place you call home.
I love those cyanotypes so much and saw some of them in person at the New York Public Library a few years ago--so gorgeous, the blue. The plants. Pure simplicity making the most beautiful objects of stillness and wonder. So happy you found something interesting in my commonplacing post! 💜
Blues in person! How completely wonderful. It is true that often the things most free of complication stand out as beautiful and lasting—in undemanding ways.
"To think about the world and its ongoing pain is synonymous with needing ways to cope, and if one can find ways of coping then there is far more availability inside the nervous body to act." This, this, this.
Glad, always, that sentences find you.
Moved (unsurprisingly) to tears, Ella. Very little gives me courage and encouragement to hold on to hope in spite of the cruelties of the world the way your newsletter does. Thank you. Sending you much love.
Thank you for this tender note Dhruvi—I'm touched and astonished, and glad, and send love back in your direction. This really is my only and main wish for the newsletter, that it is capable of providing courage and encouragement despite it all.
What a beautiful introduction this was to your work, Ella. Having moved from place to place over these past few years, this really spoke to me - "Moving house has felt like taking a long, furred animal that you usually only see from above, and placing it stomach-up, soft underfur showing the skin below, and needing to step a bit more carefully between decisions for fear of disturbing—disturbing anything." Such an interesting way of describing the unfamiliar & the unknown. Wishing you comfort as you settle into the new place you call home.
Place to place-ness is such a profound and exhausting thing, and I'm glad that my unusual comparison landed with you. I wish you a settled ahead too!
I love those cyanotypes so much and saw some of them in person at the New York Public Library a few years ago--so gorgeous, the blue. The plants. Pure simplicity making the most beautiful objects of stillness and wonder. So happy you found something interesting in my commonplacing post! 💜
Blues in person! How completely wonderful. It is true that often the things most free of complication stand out as beautiful and lasting—in undemanding ways.