i wanted to create a space to pour my heart out - a soft spot for too many words and unfinished thoughts - a quiet place away from the noise. a gentle landing place for you to feel seen and heard through reflections from a stranger because what carl rogers said is true: what is most personal is universal.
maggie nelson wrote in bluets ( a book i carried with me for two years straight in the depths of my hand bag, jostled around with half empty tubes of chapstick with the caps loosened off and used weathered kleenex tissues used to blot the oil off my t-zone): ‘eventually i confess to a friend some details about my weeping—its intensity, its frequency. she says (kindly) that she thinks we sometimes weep in front of a mirror not to inflame self-pity, but because we want to feel witnessed in our despair.’ this isn’t a place for weeping, but maybe it is. but as a whole, it is a place to be witnessed.
it is also a place for both of us to eat well through a recipe shared every week. maybe a pot of brothy beans for us to warm our hands over. a decadent and luxurious pavlova to share with our loved ones so we can all hold onto beauty. a plate of crispy chicken cutlets with roasted potatoes to satiate our deep hunger- our deep desire to feel full. a big plate of silky pasta to show love to ourselves when it would be easier to not.
it is also a place for us to connect. to connect over what songs make us feel something, what scenes in movies have shaped the ideas of romance and suffering, poems that have pulled at the heart strings. a chance to just revel in the softness of it all. the ugliness of it all. the suffering of it all. the lightness of it all. the heaviness of it all. the uncertainty of it all. the loveliness of it all. the holiness of it all.
so thank you for being here. i can’t wait to be here with you.