Esme...I also have health issues that cause me to think about the fragility and mortality we all face, maybe more often than most. I am also on high alert about losing people, and since my husband's heart attack in 2006, sometimes stand to watch his chest rise and fall and make sure he's still "with me." I get highly anxious about my own health and what you wrote reminds me of something I do...when I begin to feel anxious, I stop and do a "body scan," and say to myself..."You are fine. There is no emergency. You are safe." It calms me down right away.
I'm so sorry to hear about you and your husband's health issues; I often say something that my friend said once, which is that "the body is a trying accoutrement for the soul." But I love very much your body scan method, which seems like it would be so useful in addition to the self-talk. Thank you for sharing it.
Sometimes I could benefit from that body scan - I go on high alert at times... thinking I might get that phone call again that someone died. It is scary. I lost my dad and sister within 1.5 years of one another.
High alert is such a frightening place to be. I am so sorry about your father and your sister— I don't understand the ways of life sometimes. May their memories be a blessing.
I think the reminder that we're all going to die historically has set me adrift. It's picked me up on a wind of fear that prevented me from feeling, or touching, the ground. It's lifted me so high that I can no longer make sense of the present, much less appreciate it. I like the idea of instead using the fear to tether me to the ground, to anchor me into the present, to ask: if nothing is promised, how do I want to spend today?
Thank you for these reminders. We all know that we are finite but the ways of the world right now make life (human, animal, vegetable) seem less so finite and more just dispensable. Today I chose not to be dispensable. Not in a wild, public way but in a thousand little private ways that remind me that I am indeed alive today and that in this moment life, my one, exceptional to me and those who love me life, is sweet.
I CHOOSE NOT TO BE DISPENSABLE. This would make for a remarkable tattoo (because of the nature of my skin, I cannot get tattoos, but I often dream of getting them). I love this sentiment and I love the way you are cradling yourself in your sweetness. I'm so glad you're here.
I appreciated the way the selected art complemented the original writing in the newsletter. It reminded me that we are all dying with varying levels of awareness. That awareness of the inevitability of death can be connected to our awareness of the sublime quotidian minutiae that comprise a life. Reading The Summer Day made me ponder my own dislike of insects and that it has kept me blind to a grasshoppers cute way of eating and everything else described about grasshoppers. In context, looking at the painting made me realize how much I take for granted the four dimensions and the privilege of eating fruit. Great newsletter today! And I love your bird of the day!
I'm going to try to have the guest essay, visual art, and poem all hang togrether with similar themes in each edition; I appreciate that you noticed! I love what you pointed out about the cute way that grasshoppers eat—it is cute, even if I have an innate fear of most insects!
My son and I kept an ongoing list called "Reasons to stay alive." I've continued doing something in the spirit of that with my own Substack fellowship, so I'm very much looking forward to this. Lovely, Esmé.
As someone who lost her mother in May and has needed many of her own surgeries, I found your essay brought tears to my eyes and a nodded “yes.” She had Alzheimer’s and had been declining over the last decade but especially since a hospital stay early this year triggered a hospice transition and much faster decline. We have been living in memento mori all year. At least that’s how it feels. During her hospital stay, occurring as it did during the second largest Covid wave ever in US, my nerves were strung so tight it’s a mercy they didn’t pop like piano wire.
I also feel significant anxiety when anything goes wrong with our dog. There are reasons for that from past dog trauma, but it’s irrational and uncomfortable.
All that is to say, I hear you. You are not alone.
Watching my mom’s decline and seeing where she was in life at my age has given me pause and, in your terms, anchored me here by causing me to consider what is most important in the time left me. If, hypothetically, my brain deteriorated as hers did, I have maybe a dozen usable years of full cognitive function. In that light, the question becomes more, “what will you do with your one wild and precious day/week/hour?” The woman I will be at the end is the fruit of what I am becoming now.
I’m rambling, so perhaps it’s time to close with thanks for this experiment. 🫂❤️🩹
I felt so much for you as I read this. What a difficult time. And it’s clear how much you love your mother and how much you’ve been through. May your nerves slacken even a tiny bit. I send you all the love.
I wish I could say it anchors me knowing that we all die, but I’m not quite there yet with my knowing and unknowing of death. Or of life, for that matter. Which is mildly frustrating as a Scorpio, you’d think I would be better with it, yes? But this helps. Your words always help, even if I don’t comment all the time. And poems help.
I’m really looking forward to this new newsletter 🤍
Thank you so much for commenting, Ash; you've been such a long-time supporter of my work. I'm terribly grateful for that. Scorpio power (I'm a Scorpio Midheaven); death is such a slippery thing. I don't know if anyone really "gets" it except for the monks and nuns. Or nobody at all until we cross the River Styx.
You are so welcome. 🤍 I love that you said that because growing up I wanted to be a nun. Or at the least live in a convent. But this was very much inspired by all the fantasy novels I read where nuns were secretly magic. So I thought I would learn magic. And magic and knowing of death. Ah. Yes.
My fear of death relates to those I would leave behind. As a mother of two girls with special needs it frightens me to think of them in a world where they had one less person to kiss them goodnight
Esmé's reflections resonate deeply — embracing the fleeting nature of life with grace is no small feat. The idea of slowing down to focus on 'reasons for living' feels perfectly aligned with the process of clarifying one's principles. One day at a time, indeed.
Esme...I also have health issues that cause me to think about the fragility and mortality we all face, maybe more often than most. I am also on high alert about losing people, and since my husband's heart attack in 2006, sometimes stand to watch his chest rise and fall and make sure he's still "with me." I get highly anxious about my own health and what you wrote reminds me of something I do...when I begin to feel anxious, I stop and do a "body scan," and say to myself..."You are fine. There is no emergency. You are safe." It calms me down right away.
I'm so sorry to hear about you and your husband's health issues; I often say something that my friend said once, which is that "the body is a trying accoutrement for the soul." But I love very much your body scan method, which seems like it would be so useful in addition to the self-talk. Thank you for sharing it.
Sometimes I could benefit from that body scan - I go on high alert at times... thinking I might get that phone call again that someone died. It is scary. I lost my dad and sister within 1.5 years of one another.
High alert is such a frightening place to be. I am so sorry about your father and your sister— I don't understand the ways of life sometimes. May their memories be a blessing.
Thank you - and yes.. their memories are a true blessing.
I find this brief safety guided meditation by Rick Hanson helpful, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWinRAX-E4c
Oh wow, thank you so much for the link. I’ll check it out. ❤️
In my defense as a very careful driver, we were going to the ER at 4 am on a Saturday and there was literally no one else on the road 🚙🚙
You are a VERY CAREFUL DRIVER. And my true love.
I think the reminder that we're all going to die historically has set me adrift. It's picked me up on a wind of fear that prevented me from feeling, or touching, the ground. It's lifted me so high that I can no longer make sense of the present, much less appreciate it. I like the idea of instead using the fear to tether me to the ground, to anchor me into the present, to ask: if nothing is promised, how do I want to spend today?
YES. “If nothing is promised, how do I want to spend today?” That is it in a sentence.
Thank you for these reminders. We all know that we are finite but the ways of the world right now make life (human, animal, vegetable) seem less so finite and more just dispensable. Today I chose not to be dispensable. Not in a wild, public way but in a thousand little private ways that remind me that I am indeed alive today and that in this moment life, my one, exceptional to me and those who love me life, is sweet.
I CHOOSE NOT TO BE DISPENSABLE. This would make for a remarkable tattoo (because of the nature of my skin, I cannot get tattoos, but I often dream of getting them). I love this sentiment and I love the way you are cradling yourself in your sweetness. I'm so glad you're here.
I appreciated the way the selected art complemented the original writing in the newsletter. It reminded me that we are all dying with varying levels of awareness. That awareness of the inevitability of death can be connected to our awareness of the sublime quotidian minutiae that comprise a life. Reading The Summer Day made me ponder my own dislike of insects and that it has kept me blind to a grasshoppers cute way of eating and everything else described about grasshoppers. In context, looking at the painting made me realize how much I take for granted the four dimensions and the privilege of eating fruit. Great newsletter today! And I love your bird of the day!
I'm going to try to have the guest essay, visual art, and poem all hang togrether with similar themes in each edition; I appreciate that you noticed! I love what you pointed out about the cute way that grasshoppers eat—it is cute, even if I have an innate fear of most insects!
I love this idea so much! So excited to see how it comes together, and I look forward to the Fireside Chats!
I love the title and the first guest essay. Can’t wait for more!
I am so excited for this. Congrats on the new move!
Thank you so much! 💛
My son and I kept an ongoing list called "Reasons to stay alive." I've continued doing something in the spirit of that with my own Substack fellowship, so I'm very much looking forward to this. Lovely, Esmé.
I feel connected to you and your son with our joint projects. Sending you love.
As someone who lost her mother in May and has needed many of her own surgeries, I found your essay brought tears to my eyes and a nodded “yes.” She had Alzheimer’s and had been declining over the last decade but especially since a hospital stay early this year triggered a hospice transition and much faster decline. We have been living in memento mori all year. At least that’s how it feels. During her hospital stay, occurring as it did during the second largest Covid wave ever in US, my nerves were strung so tight it’s a mercy they didn’t pop like piano wire.
I also feel significant anxiety when anything goes wrong with our dog. There are reasons for that from past dog trauma, but it’s irrational and uncomfortable.
All that is to say, I hear you. You are not alone.
Watching my mom’s decline and seeing where she was in life at my age has given me pause and, in your terms, anchored me here by causing me to consider what is most important in the time left me. If, hypothetically, my brain deteriorated as hers did, I have maybe a dozen usable years of full cognitive function. In that light, the question becomes more, “what will you do with your one wild and precious day/week/hour?” The woman I will be at the end is the fruit of what I am becoming now.
I’m rambling, so perhaps it’s time to close with thanks for this experiment. 🫂❤️🩹
I felt so much for you as I read this. What a difficult time. And it’s clear how much you love your mother and how much you’ve been through. May your nerves slacken even a tiny bit. I send you all the love.
Thank you so much. ❤️🩹
This is such a lovely, tender, generous offering you're making. I am so delighted to be subscribed now!
Thank you so much, Nic! I’m so happy to see you here 🩵
I wish I could say it anchors me knowing that we all die, but I’m not quite there yet with my knowing and unknowing of death. Or of life, for that matter. Which is mildly frustrating as a Scorpio, you’d think I would be better with it, yes? But this helps. Your words always help, even if I don’t comment all the time. And poems help.
I’m really looking forward to this new newsletter 🤍
Thank you so much for commenting, Ash; you've been such a long-time supporter of my work. I'm terribly grateful for that. Scorpio power (I'm a Scorpio Midheaven); death is such a slippery thing. I don't know if anyone really "gets" it except for the monks and nuns. Or nobody at all until we cross the River Styx.
You are so welcome. 🤍 I love that you said that because growing up I wanted to be a nun. Or at the least live in a convent. But this was very much inspired by all the fantasy novels I read where nuns were secretly magic. So I thought I would learn magic. And magic and knowing of death. Ah. Yes.
As the person behind Reasons Not To Quit (https://rntq.substack.com/) I am especially here for this.
Oh, I love that!!! I'll go check out your Substack right now. Sending much love to you and solidarity.
Solidarity right back at you. We need all the Reasons we can get.
What a cool idea! Excited to read and follow along :)
My fear of death relates to those I would leave behind. As a mother of two girls with special needs it frightens me to think of them in a world where they had one less person to kiss them goodnight
Esmé's reflections resonate deeply — embracing the fleeting nature of life with grace is no small feat. The idea of slowing down to focus on 'reasons for living' feels perfectly aligned with the process of clarifying one's principles. One day at a time, indeed.