Notes from the Heart (Email Newsletter, February 14, 2021)

(1,548 words)

Hello sweet friends,

Mid-February is here and I am exhaling. Over and over, as if by doing this enough times slowly I can release every micron of tension-residue from every cell in my body. The days are getting lighter, and it (mostly) feels like it's working.

I cut out wine three weeks ago. Without really paying attention, I had developed a habit of having (at least) one or two glasses each evening, beginning at 5pm on the dot. It was my way of coping with the allostatic load of 2020, I guess.

Within two days of quitting, I could feel the difference in my body, my sleep, my sanity. "Dry January" is "Dry February" for me, and dandelion coconut tea is my new favorite thing. I am consuming more dark chocolate too, because (as my friend Amanda tells me) chocolate is medicine.

We have snow this weekend, and it's beautiful.

But there is so much of it (nearly 8 inches and still falling as I type) that it disrupted plans, caused some chaos, and created a sort of "stuck" feeling for me.

Yesterday, this feeling led to a day spent not in the creative mood I'd hoped for, but instead processing a surprising wave of emotions. I wrote them down in my journal, and it helped. "What am I feeling?" I scribbled at the top of the page. The answers came quick: A little cold. Lonely (temporary). Scared. Angry. Sad. Anxious. Stuck. Overwhelmed. Tired. Old.

Then I journaled more. I wrote:

Out flowed a list of no less than seven stories. Looking at them there on the page, I could breathe. "Oh, that's what's going on. I see it now, it's clearer. Okay, this is manageable. There are possibilities, opportunities, even beautiful bits."

I lit a candle and carried it upstairs to the little gray bodhisattva where I sat on the meditation pillow while the snow fell outside the window. It covered the branches like whipped cream with powdered sugar on top. I listened to the quiet, and tracked every inch of my body, honoring emotions that rose as I brought awareness to my feet, my legs, my hips, my belly, my heart, my shoulders, my jaw, my forehead. I cried and then laughed.

I used soft words, the way one would speak to a small child who is worried, "You're doing such a good job, Laura. You really are. I'm proud of you."

Last weekend, I woke to a windy day. Branches of hawthorne scratched against the panes of my downstairs windows. This old carriage house is so thin, the bushes make a soft "screech" sound when the wind comes, dragging them back and forth across the glass. I love wind.

I drove to the woods and, with my camera in my right hand and coffee in my left, I ventured into the old growth. It's not wise to walk in the woods during a windstorm, but the desire to be where there were no other people--and not have to fumble to put on the face mask each time a fellow human approaches from the other direction, then take it off again to avoid the sticky wetness of my own breath after they've passed--was strong.

For an hour I wandered, and crossed paths with another human only once. She had seen me pointing my camera up into the trees and she asked, "Are you a birder?" I laughed because I am not, but I secretly wish to be. I don't know very much about birds and my camera lens is fixed at 50mm.

I found a quiet, protected spot up the trail to stop for a moment and record a short little voice note for you--you can listen here.

the lucia collective ~ is coming

I've been working to create that online space for us to connect, as I wrote to you last year, I found a way! And made something new.

I had planned to share it with you this weekend, but like all good things, it's not quite ready on time.

I hope to share a formal invitation with you later this month to a monthly subscription for inviting beauty and giving voice to the heart.

Lucia's readers, contributors and followers are a richly creative community--artists, writers, healers, growers, nurturers, leaders, publishers. . . so many quietly powerful and heart-centered people. In connecting us online, it was important to me that the whole experience feel clean, gentle, spacious and personal. More like a windowed breakfast nook in a best friend's kitchen than a typical social media network. A cozy sanctuary or studio for the soul. Not Facebook.

As 2020 wound down, I kept asking myself the same question in my journal about how to approach this, how to create an offering that would hold the space for a collective. The question sounded like this:

"Laura, what do you want more of in 2021?"

I knew the only way to create something meaningful for you was to honor what I want and need and feel excited about this year.

The answers I came up with at first sputtered out on the page and were all over the place. It was difficult to land on what felt true, I think because there are still so many unknowns about the state of the world. The pandemic is still here. We don't know when it will be safe to gather in person again, or travel, or hug everyone we know and love. We don't know what will happen with the economy, jobs, healthcare. We don't know how long, or what form, our individual and collective recoveries will take as we resurface from beneath the myriad of small traumas, and big ones, of the past four years. We don't know.

There is so much beauty in uncertainty, though.

I thought about how beauty heals. The sight of a sunrise, the sound of our best friend's voice, the smell of a cinnamon roll, and the sense of things around us being part of some mysterious order. Beauty is a balm.

I want to explore the different ways we use our voices, share our voices, and connect.

I've daydreamed of hosting some kind of small podcast for years now, while making short little voice notes just for myself on my iPhone. I look at the microphone I bought while listening to Brené Brown and Michelle Obama and Krista Tippett. It's time to share, as awkward as beginnings are, and move in a direction of more.

All of this is a long-winded way of explaining why the initial months of The Lucia Collective will be anchored in an invitation to explore (even loosely) beauty and voice.

For those who come along, I'll share monthly notebooks (digital but printable) with essays, journal prompts, ideas and inspiration. I'll also share recorded creative meditations you can use to invite your muses; as well as longer monthly voice notes and audio conversations exploring themes and sharing the real bits of what's going on in my creative life, while encouraging you in yours.

We will be able to post photographs, words, voice notes of your own, and connect by commenting on other posts, all at a slower pace.

Some of the most meaningful connections in my life have developed slowly, over time and even from a distance—I think the space leaves more room for goodwill and serendipity. I'm curious to see how this unfolds.

My hope and plan is to begin on March 6, 2021. Watch your inbox for an invitation later this month. I hope you'll join me and share inspiration, more connection, and the sweetness of something slow.

volume four update

Volume Four of Lucia is still a beautiful work in progress and I am feeling hopeful 2021 will include bringing it into the world. Thank you, thank you, for being so patient and supportive.

I am currently enjoying the slow work of laying out pages and weaving them together. Later this month, I am meeting with another "lighter"—a photographer who is coincidentally named Lucia (smile) and whose work will be part of the issue. I'm excited to hear more of her stories about home and her creative work.

Things are progressing in the direction of a publication and I am persistently moving toward this goal with a light heart and determined scrunch of my forehead.

Happy Valentine's Day, too! I hope you are feeling loved, wherever you are.

Keep tending your light, keep eating chocolate (it's medicine), keep creating beauty, and keep giving voice to the heart. The world needs the things you are here to share.

I’m so glad you're here.

Love,
Laura

P.S. I have been listening to this Lo-Fi Cafe mix on Spotify as I sidle up to my standing desk each day and go about my work. It's a chill beat and gentle alternative to classical music (which I also love). It keeps me feeling productive and creative.

P.P.S. I am reading Cassandra Speaks, by Elizabeth Lesser, founder of the Omega Institute. It is a book about the stories our culture tells and what happens when women become the storytellers. Cassandra was a princess of Troy, and to woo her Apollo gave her a gift only a god could give--the ability to see into the future. But when she refused to sleep with him, rather than take his gift away he cursed her such that she would remain clairvoyant, but whenever she spoke of things she knew would come to pass, no one would believe her. I know, familiar chills, right? I am also reading Be True to Yourself, Daily Affirmations and Awesome Advice for Teen Girls, by Amanda Ford. This book is really for the teen girl in all of us, and it is so good. It's also authored by one of my best friends, who rewrote the entire book in 2020 (it was originally published two decades ago!). I am so proud of her. If you have a teen girl, I highly recommend leaving this one somewhere she'll discover it... I'm also reading Dahlia Breeding for the Farmer-Florist and the Home Gardener by Kristine Albrecht because, well, spring is coming!

P.P.P.S. I bought this beautiful valentine, and a few others, at a shop in my neighborhood called Gray & Gray. The owners made them by hand! You can find the shop on Instagram here.

P.P.P.P.S. To purchase Lucia's print volumes, visit our website, here.

Laura Lowery is the founder, editor and publisher of Lucia. She does her best to lead a creative life. Whether triumphant or stumbling, Laura shares daily notes (that are often weekly) here on luciajournal, including stories, behind-the-scenes happenings, little doses of inspiration, and large quantities of curiosity and heart. She is pleased to meet you.