The New Leaf #22 - Like water feeling its way over an edge
Hi, and welcome to the twenty-second instalment of The New Leaf, an informal and infrequent email bulletin with the things I’ve been writing and reading lately.
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It's March again, although in many ways it's March still, and we're all thoroughly humbled by this ordeal. We've been saying "let's catch up as soon as we can" for months now, while swapping recommendations for books (if your attention span isn't on the fritz; mine is), TV shows (the longer the better) and podcasts (random, weird stuff only please). It's not that we are bored of other people - we are bored of ourselves, and having to spend all day every day in our own heads here in the pandemic groundhog day. I feel like I keep saying the same things over and over - like how now it's week ... 11 of Lockdown 3 here in the UK, and at the 16-week mark we will hopefully get to stand *outside* a pub and have a drink together. I am looking forward to that moment with the feverish excitement of a child at Christmas. I want to see my friends of course, but also, I want to do all those city things we've not been able to for so long. I want to have a conversation with a person I've never met before and not worry about them standing too close to me. I want to squeeze past people to get to the bar, smelling the beer and the perfume and the sweat and the early evening air. I want a benign stranger to put their hand on my shoulder as they pass behind me in the crowd, gently letting me know they're there.
All of that is a way away still, but maybe not as far away as we think? The thaw has already begun. In London, this past week has seen the surprising arrival of early spring, with blue skies and sunshine pouring in, and that smell of wet soil where things are growing again. Spring happens in our bodies too: you stretch out all the way into your arms and legs after the hibernation season, your eyes widen a little, your step quickens, and you feel a little excited again. It's a physical reaction. It's been a long, hard season, but for the first time in a long while, I feel hopeful. Soon, we will have something new to talk about.
Here’s what I wrote in January and February.
“Or maybe that restlessness you feel is actually unexpressed creativity?” - Elemental
I wrote an essay for Elemental's "My therapist says" section about a little moment that made a big difference. Several years ago, a therapist said this simple sentence to me and it was one of those rare, beautiful moments where you can feel something unlock. It's been years and I think about it approximately once a week.
If you could prevent the family illness from passing on to the next generation, would you? - Future Human
I started working on this story for Future Human - all the way back in November! - because I wanted to understand why someone might say “no” to this question. In my mind, getting a lemon gene from someone who didn’t know about it was different than if they rolled the dice and knowingly took that risk on your behalf. But as is usually the case, the question is not that black and white. The process of reporting this made me understand something I didn't before, both about this topic and about how you never know why people do what they do unless you ask them. It's made me a little softer, and I can only hope that reading it has some of that same feeling.
Hope springs - The Simple Things
In a very meta moment for this newsletter, the introduction I wrote in the last 'New Leaf' is now an published essay! For The Simple Things I wrote about my thing for cherry blossoms and how they spring from bare branches when everything seems dead - LIFE COMES BACK. I got my cherry blossom tattoo just before the first lockdown to represent this concept in general, but it turned out to be especially apt with the year we’re having. Read it in the March issue of The Simple Things, out now. 🌸
Here’s what I read in January and February.
Reading List, Like Water Feeling Its Way Over An Edge double edition.
Feel free to forward this newsletter if you know someone who may be into it - the subscribe link is here. If you want to say hi, my email is jessica.furseth@gmail.com. Thank you for reading x