Thank you for sharing this. I often stop myself from writing just based on the fear of embarrassment or it being ‘good enough’. I’ve slowly learned that writing and poems just spill out of me. It’s the thing I do (almost shamefully) at 3am. So I decided to introduce my writing to 3pm. I never once have asked my hand if it’s ‘good enough’, so why am I asking if my writing is ‘good enough’. It’s just as much a part of me as anything else. Since then my life has become richer and richer each day.
During the first half of the pandemic, after months of being shut in and working as a therapist in a time when the whole world was in a panicked state, I didn’t realize just how desperate for beauty I was until I was driving across the country to see family in what felt like a life or death need to connect and hug the people I was so scared to lose. On the drive, looking out my car window, the sky seemed huge and the clouds were so gorgeous and the beauty touched me deeply. And I had a thought “I wish I could paint that.” It was an odd thought as I’d never much expressed interest in art previously. But suddenly, it was as if I couldn’t stop the need to be able to paint beauty. So I spent the next year teaching myself to paint so I could fulfill the need to experience beauty and then paint it, breathe life into it, contribute to it if I could. It’s been three years since then and now, I’ve found art, in all its forms, the kind I create, those created by others, poetry, painting, music, a deliciously baked cake, the way someone configured their garden, all of it, well, it’s necessary salt for my life. Connection to the greater universe and all of its beauty is what calls to me. Thank you for sharing your art with the world. I found your poetry sometime in the last 3 years when my art consumption has been voraciously fed and I’m very grateful I did.
Yes! This poem and essay feel like of the same heart intelligence as the Melissa Febos quote, “Maybe that's all bravery is: when your hunger is greater than your fear. I resist the implication that bravery is noble. I must face the things that scare me in order to survive. And survival is not noble. It is not a sacrifice of self but in service to the self.” Love and appreciate your work. xo
I heard you read “ Instructions for traveling west” on the London Writer’s Salon and since then have read it to many friends and family. I am about to embark on a journey east, on a ship to England and then on to other countries. Your writing gives me courage as I set out on my own, sadly,”death us do part” arrived after 38 years . Thank you for sharing your poetic map. It gives me strength to listen to my own compass, press on even when I’m fearful and let my pen flow, allowing the words to heal and guide me as I learn new ways to navigate this world . I look forward to reading your new book, and sharing it with others, congratulations!
I knew I loved your poetry, but this story told me why. Took a break this morning from building a positioning statement and meeting with our SEO agency to find this email in my inbox. Like so many, COVID rearranged my life. It brought me home to Oregon, and now I'm in the midst of deciding what 'titles' my future might hold. And if that's what I care about at all. Love watching your journey. Thank you for sharing.
Prose so purple it's bruised. Darkness that spills into the light and is embraced for it's shade. Moments that demand to be turned into stories, and having the courage to answer the call. Living for tomorrows, today with no more whisperings of maybe when I'm ready. Dreaming for more than just to pass the night...
What calls me? The serene joy of waking at dawn, creeping out of the house and into the gardens, where song birds meet me in dewy tree branches and star jasmine wafts its heavy perfume with the sunrise.
I’m crying in the club hold on - all through the beginnings of the pandemic (and if we’re being completely honest, probably the years leading up to it), all of my dreams and fantasies took place on the west coast. An opportunity to move came up and I spent months on the fence debating if this was the right thing. Even though it was everything I wanted, I was still learning to trust myself. I was coming down the wire making my decision and I just kind of... happened upon your poem. I read it, felt it so deeply in my bones and said yep, I’m going. I just passed my one year anniversary of living by the pacific. Thank you for sharing, I hope you know the power and the magic this poem has, it changed my life. Knowing it did something similar for the person who wrote it is a feeling I’m not sure how to put words too, but I’m falling in.
Hi, Joy. Tonight I sat on the floor of my 'art studio' and held a bunch of crusty old paint tubes in my hands. I haven't painted for months. I was in a graduate MFA program for painting, and should have completed my first year this July. But the school closed and the program fell apart in April. And I kind of did too. Nothing was working. Everything was breaking. But something started to shift in early June. And I welcomed the breaking. My art mentor and my therapist, independent of each other and in the same day, suggested I move out of my group house. I thought it would take a while to found a place that suited me, but I found one within a week. So tonight I sat on the carpet of my studio, which is just a dark, cluttered, spare room in the basement. And, as I sorted through my things, tossing some in moving boxes, and some in the trash, I felt a warmth in my hands. The tools I haven't touched in a really long time felt like old friends, kindred spirits. Just holding a cold, silver palette knife created a little bit of electricity. I thought "I am returning to you soon" and I really meant it. I'm so happy I opened your newsletter tonight before bed--it's exactly what I needed :).
I often tell my mom that my entire goal in life is to leave little pieces of Leanne everywhere. As a photographer, that has always looked like capturing other people's moments authentically and artistically. I'm grateful for that period in my life, but now I think that means more. What calls me is to use my experiences and write again. Write stories, write poems, write essays- all with the intention that if one person reads it and feels less alone, I've done my purpose.
beautifully said Joy! I do think we are all bound by many fears acting as invisible hand cuffs until one day we snapped out of it and most things don't mean much to us anymore.
I'm def feeling similar to you in finding my "journey to the west" Cheers!
Cannot wait to preorder! I resonate so much!!! I’m in the process of leaving a job to pursue writing & headed west come this fall. I did a 6 week road trip this winter and had your poem taped to my dashboard. Thank you for sharing your writing. It’s a joy to read and feel it so deeply.
What calls me is sharing my voice and my truth no matter how uncomfortable it is for someone else. What calls me is being honest with myself on where I’m at in my journey and transmuting that into poetry, song, wisdom and prayer for myself and humanity.
What calls me is the wild unknown within what it means to be fully human, fully alive and broken open 🌹
What a special thing to read and understand. The pull of what’s next feels very tangible to me, feet itching and heart longing. I’ve loved the poem, and loved reading this deeper context to it. Both gorgeous - thank you!
Thank you for sharing this. I often stop myself from writing just based on the fear of embarrassment or it being ‘good enough’. I’ve slowly learned that writing and poems just spill out of me. It’s the thing I do (almost shamefully) at 3am. So I decided to introduce my writing to 3pm. I never once have asked my hand if it’s ‘good enough’, so why am I asking if my writing is ‘good enough’. It’s just as much a part of me as anything else. Since then my life has become richer and richer each day.
Thank you for your vulnerability, Joy.
During the first half of the pandemic, after months of being shut in and working as a therapist in a time when the whole world was in a panicked state, I didn’t realize just how desperate for beauty I was until I was driving across the country to see family in what felt like a life or death need to connect and hug the people I was so scared to lose. On the drive, looking out my car window, the sky seemed huge and the clouds were so gorgeous and the beauty touched me deeply. And I had a thought “I wish I could paint that.” It was an odd thought as I’d never much expressed interest in art previously. But suddenly, it was as if I couldn’t stop the need to be able to paint beauty. So I spent the next year teaching myself to paint so I could fulfill the need to experience beauty and then paint it, breathe life into it, contribute to it if I could. It’s been three years since then and now, I’ve found art, in all its forms, the kind I create, those created by others, poetry, painting, music, a deliciously baked cake, the way someone configured their garden, all of it, well, it’s necessary salt for my life. Connection to the greater universe and all of its beauty is what calls to me. Thank you for sharing your art with the world. I found your poetry sometime in the last 3 years when my art consumption has been voraciously fed and I’m very grateful I did.
Yes! This poem and essay feel like of the same heart intelligence as the Melissa Febos quote, “Maybe that's all bravery is: when your hunger is greater than your fear. I resist the implication that bravery is noble. I must face the things that scare me in order to survive. And survival is not noble. It is not a sacrifice of self but in service to the self.” Love and appreciate your work. xo
“Pray to something unnamable. Fall for someone impractical.” is my current heart song. I love the play of your name in “joy is not a trick” 🩷
I heard you read “ Instructions for traveling west” on the London Writer’s Salon and since then have read it to many friends and family. I am about to embark on a journey east, on a ship to England and then on to other countries. Your writing gives me courage as I set out on my own, sadly,”death us do part” arrived after 38 years . Thank you for sharing your poetic map. It gives me strength to listen to my own compass, press on even when I’m fearful and let my pen flow, allowing the words to heal and guide me as I learn new ways to navigate this world . I look forward to reading your new book, and sharing it with others, congratulations!
I knew I loved your poetry, but this story told me why. Took a break this morning from building a positioning statement and meeting with our SEO agency to find this email in my inbox. Like so many, COVID rearranged my life. It brought me home to Oregon, and now I'm in the midst of deciding what 'titles' my future might hold. And if that's what I care about at all. Love watching your journey. Thank you for sharing.
This poem, and the whole post, are glorious. I think I'll just point people to this article from here on out if I'm ever asked "Why do you write?"
Prose so purple it's bruised. Darkness that spills into the light and is embraced for it's shade. Moments that demand to be turned into stories, and having the courage to answer the call. Living for tomorrows, today with no more whisperings of maybe when I'm ready. Dreaming for more than just to pass the night...
What calls me? The serene joy of waking at dawn, creeping out of the house and into the gardens, where song birds meet me in dewy tree branches and star jasmine wafts its heavy perfume with the sunrise.
I’m crying in the club hold on - all through the beginnings of the pandemic (and if we’re being completely honest, probably the years leading up to it), all of my dreams and fantasies took place on the west coast. An opportunity to move came up and I spent months on the fence debating if this was the right thing. Even though it was everything I wanted, I was still learning to trust myself. I was coming down the wire making my decision and I just kind of... happened upon your poem. I read it, felt it so deeply in my bones and said yep, I’m going. I just passed my one year anniversary of living by the pacific. Thank you for sharing, I hope you know the power and the magic this poem has, it changed my life. Knowing it did something similar for the person who wrote it is a feeling I’m not sure how to put words too, but I’m falling in.
Hi, Joy. Tonight I sat on the floor of my 'art studio' and held a bunch of crusty old paint tubes in my hands. I haven't painted for months. I was in a graduate MFA program for painting, and should have completed my first year this July. But the school closed and the program fell apart in April. And I kind of did too. Nothing was working. Everything was breaking. But something started to shift in early June. And I welcomed the breaking. My art mentor and my therapist, independent of each other and in the same day, suggested I move out of my group house. I thought it would take a while to found a place that suited me, but I found one within a week. So tonight I sat on the carpet of my studio, which is just a dark, cluttered, spare room in the basement. And, as I sorted through my things, tossing some in moving boxes, and some in the trash, I felt a warmth in my hands. The tools I haven't touched in a really long time felt like old friends, kindred spirits. Just holding a cold, silver palette knife created a little bit of electricity. I thought "I am returning to you soon" and I really meant it. I'm so happy I opened your newsletter tonight before bed--it's exactly what I needed :).
I often tell my mom that my entire goal in life is to leave little pieces of Leanne everywhere. As a photographer, that has always looked like capturing other people's moments authentically and artistically. I'm grateful for that period in my life, but now I think that means more. What calls me is to use my experiences and write again. Write stories, write poems, write essays- all with the intention that if one person reads it and feels less alone, I've done my purpose.
beautifully said Joy! I do think we are all bound by many fears acting as invisible hand cuffs until one day we snapped out of it and most things don't mean much to us anymore.
I'm def feeling similar to you in finding my "journey to the west" Cheers!
Cannot wait to preorder! I resonate so much!!! I’m in the process of leaving a job to pursue writing & headed west come this fall. I did a 6 week road trip this winter and had your poem taped to my dashboard. Thank you for sharing your writing. It’s a joy to read and feel it so deeply.
What calls me is sharing my voice and my truth no matter how uncomfortable it is for someone else. What calls me is being honest with myself on where I’m at in my journey and transmuting that into poetry, song, wisdom and prayer for myself and humanity.
What calls me is the wild unknown within what it means to be fully human, fully alive and broken open 🌹
What a special thing to read and understand. The pull of what’s next feels very tangible to me, feet itching and heart longing. I’ve loved the poem, and loved reading this deeper context to it. Both gorgeous - thank you!