Beloved friends,
Last week I read a poem by my friend Tula Francesca entitled "Cleave to the Pleasure". You could read it right here if you like. Tula picked up that phrase when another poet, Francesca Bell, said it during a talk about submitting poetry for publication. I picked it up when reading Tula's poem; bless and thank her for the kind permission to pick it up to use in my own way, here, now. I hand it to you, darling, next.
Cleaving to pleasure is one of the great delights of human incarnation. It is springtime in the northern hemisphere and there is so much pleasure to be had in a body in springtime. Pleasure is food, medicine, gift.
One night last week James and I were driving to town. As we turned from one two-lane rural road onto another, there was a flash of sky between the towering trees and the gigantic nearly full moon shone bright and sudden. We both shouted, James stopped, and we backed up to spend a moment with it. Goodness. Wow.
After we ran our errand in town, picking up a charming, battered secondhand coffee table which I hope to invite you to put your feet on one day, we decided to get dinner. Along the way we passed some deer. James stopped to visit. Our rural peninsula has some cougars, but not enough to balance the loss of the wolves, so we have lots and lots of deer and they DGAF about people. If we are not time-pressed, James stops to roll a window down and chat them up.
That moon appeared nearly full for three nights last week. Below you can see her on Friday from our back deck, perhaps the most orange moonrise I've ever seen. On and near the full moon I often set alarms for moonrise. It's often cloudy in Cascadia, but when the sky is clear, we head out to the deck with tiny shots of mezcal to toast the moon.
Saturday we went to Seattle with a friend who, upon hearing that we'd lived two hours from Seattle for three years but hadn't been there yet, insisted that we go. The cherry trees were in bloom at UW and we stood beneath them with a zillion people, basking in the beauty. I've now got an annual reminder on my calendar to start checking on the cherry blossoms in early March so I can catch the peak next year and share it with others.
I'm noticing in these pleasures a blend of ritual and spontaneity. Habits and rituals in stopping to talk to the deer, setting the annual reminder for the cherry blossoms, raising a glass to the moon. Seizing the moment to ling under the cherry blossoms when we stumbled upon them, turning back to see the moon, and oh, the hug I leaned into for long enough that the friend who had invited the hug said, as I held her firmly in my arms and love, "Oh, it's a long one!"
Pleasure is a medicine. Cleave to pleasure, darlings. If you want to write to share any of yours with me, I'll be glad to hear them.
Resources
Cleaving to pleasure with beloved poets
There's a Mary Oliver documentary coming! Even the trailer is a blessing. If the glimpses of darkness in the trailer surprise you, you might wish to listen to Mary speaking with Krista Tippett in On Being, episode, "I got saved by the beauty of the world." Ever private, Mary gives a glimpse here of how what sent her into nature as a child was the fact that home wasn't safe.
Megan Falley was, and I'd say is, the partner of Andrea Gibson, another brilliant life-loving, widely-loved poet. Andrea died last year and Meg has been grieving gloriously, publicly. Last week she shared a beautiful new poem of love and loss. Cleave to pleasure, darlings. Thanks to Elle Oura
Tornado
for Andrea
by Megan Falley
I admit, you drove me crazy.
The careless way you’d salt a tomato,
no napkin or plate beneath it.
Just right over the floor,
your summer snow, trusting
someone else would sweep it.
And you never took your boots off.
Only ever used half a stevia packet.
The rest would collect in the crevices
of car doors, divots no vacuum could reach.
There was nothing you couldn’t fix
with duct tape, or shoelaces
stolen from other people’s shoes.
And you broke everything
You borrowed. All those stains
you called heart-shaped.
Plus you lost my heirlooms.
Not because you didn’t care,
but because you moved so fast,
like maybe you always knew
you would leave too soon—
so why waste a minute
screwing the cap back on
the pickle jar? Do you remember
how many times you thought
something was stolen?
That we’d been invaded?
Because you couldn’t wait
that extra breath to look. You loved me
because I always found everything.
I always assured you:
nothing was taken from us.
Not even time.
It’s all such a mess—
how immaculate the house is now.
All I want is you
tracking muddy bootprints
across my life.
Come back, fix this
with my missing shoelaces.
Why did I care
that we were walking on salt?
Come home.
I will call it the beach
Just keeping your head above water? Pleasure sounds like a stretch? On coping with overwhelm
I'm hearing a lot of folks say that they feel overwhelmed right now, so here is a kind, actionable article called 5 Ways to Cope When You're Feeling Overwhelmed. It's a Mental Health First Aid resource from the National Council for Mental Wellbeing.
Cleaving to pleasure by weaving with Dahlia
My spring Workshop for Living is a beautiful place to lean into what it's like to work with me personally for anyone, anywhere. Cosmic Grounding begins April 18. Later that afternoon I'll be offering a partner Thai Massage workshop for folks in my local area, 1-4pm at the Hive in Port Hadlock. By donation, all proceeds to the Jefferson County Foodbank. Drop me a line for details or to register. Also for locals: I've got a Strong Chair Yoga class Wednesdays 8:30-9:45am and an evening stretch-and-strengthen mat yoga class Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays from 5:45-7pm. I've got a little space in all of them for April-May, and your first class is a gift from me so you can see if it's a fit for you.
Reading
Last week I mentioned that I'd bought Rebecca Solnit's new book, The Beginning Comes After the End. It's my first purchase of an ebook from bookshop.org, who now sells ebooks that you can read on their app! I'm so excited to be able to read electronically without engaging with The Behemoth.
Resistance
I wonder if you are familiar with the term "moral injury"? The Moral Injury Project at Syracuse University says, "Moral injury is the damage done to one’s conscience or moral compass when that person perpetrates, witnesses, or fails to prevent acts that transgress one’s own moral beliefs, values, or ethical codes of conduct." They quote D. Silver as saying that moral injury is "a deep soul wound that pierces a person’s identity, sense of morality, and relationship to society”. I learned this phrase from a friend who is a physician but who does not practice within the medical system; she used it to describe her experience of medical residency: moral injury. I fear that this is an experience that many of us are having now. When I encourage you to resist, beloved, it is for your good as well as for that of everyone else.
Resistance Resource Doc
I've begun to gathering resources for resistance in a Google doc to increase ease of access to this information. Feel welcome to share it, and I'd love your suggestions.
Immigration Court Observers Needed
This week I got a gleeful selfie from my sister-in-love on the family group text. Keely is the person who introduced me to the idea of in-love rather than in-law for naming family, so you can feel what a heart she has, hm? She'd just left a training session for becoming an observer in immigration court. I was moved by the story of her friend who started an organization to support folks in the immigration process with some folks from her church. These folks are in Jackson, TN, but it turns out that volunteers are needed all over. "The ABA Commission on Immigration’s Court Observation and Awareness Project monitors immigration court proceedings to promote transparency, accountability, and due process. Trained volunteers observe and document hearings, identifying systemic issues and ensuring that legal standards are upheld." More.
May Day Strong
Workers over billionaires. Take Friday May 1 off with me and a whole lotta folks? I plan to spend some of the day in the forest and some of it in town spending money at local businesses, who usually in my town decide to stay open because they can't afford not to.
Supporting Me So I Can Support You
This is entirely human work – my work, done by hand, with my own mind and heart. I do not use AI in the creation of what I offer you. I don't have one. I invest at least half a day each week in creating this for you. It's a labor of love; I currently earn about $15/hr. If you enjoy my work you can give me a raise! You could make a one-time donation of thanks of any size. You could upgrade to a paid subscription for as little as $5/month.
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