Your essay is one that could be written only by one who brought children into the world in the 1990's. Or maybe I think that because I am one of those, and you have captured so poignantly what I remember of that time. So much optimistic hope in the face of doom's evidence. You are reminding me of a way I used to pay attention in the world, and that I have lost something I used to have. I think I'd like to find it again. So much here to sit with.
Thanks so much, Rita. Yes, it was really like that then, but in crafting this, of course, laying it all out in a row, I experienced it in new way. Thank you for reading and writing with me.
I feel that, too! I am interested to hear what you discover. I know I let my children’s eyes and interests guide mine and point my body where we needed to go next. The world looked different close up then, too. I am in flight/ avoidance mode in that front. After filtering and outsourcing desire and curiosity throughout two childhoods I am seeing glimmers and feeling tugs but have not quite tapped my own propulsion yet. But being here is really getting me ready.
I feel this a lot, Emily--things have changed a lot. I can't take it all in the way I used to. I have to be selective. At least, I think that is what you are saying? I want to sense the world, experience it, but I can't take in all the broken parts all at the same time. I cannot monitor and track the escalation of destruction. It's just too big.
Yep- exactly. I peek out from under my rock and dart back under as needed. Very selective in my consumption of media, news sources and type. All about pace and perspective, hoping to control it rather than vice versa.
"Filtering and outsourcing desire and curiosity" is ringing true. Like you, I am seeing glimmers and feeling tugs, but that is all so far. The last two years, I have had one adult child living with me and another needing significant support, and I think I'm still belonging too much to others' desires and curiosities. Maybe. Or just their needs. But I've also felt overwhelmed by the world. I remember the mother Orca, and how I paid attention to that story. How I felt it. Now, so many stories slide past me. There are too many hard things.
You seem ready. I hope I get to see what happens for you!
“I think I'm still belonging too much to others' desires and curiosities. Maybe. Or just their needs. But I've also felt overwhelmed by the world.”
This. ☝️ Yes-Overwhelm & a bone marrow deep tired that intermittently vexes me; hoards & hides my favorite self from me. Curiosity, desire, wonder, creativity- I whisper to them in my sleep- “please don’t give up on me yet;” I dream of my dead mother & flickering flames.
That is a good observation. My daughters were born in 1992 and 1994. I never dreamt that now in their 30s we wouldn't have done more to heed nature's warnings. But I remain hopeful because that is more empowering than despair. I think it is no coincidence my younger daughter is now getting her PhD in environmental policy and has attended several UN Climate talks as observer and the older is looking to return to her anthropology roots and focus on the issue of water scarcity. They see what's happening, these Millennials, they grew up exploring the forests and lakes of Sweden and traveling the world, and they're heartbroken but fierce about doing what they can to undo the damage of their parents and grandparents and greatgrandparents.
I loved reading this for a second time, Jeannine, so powerfully crafted to blend motherhood and its hope that future generations can live and thrive and eat and drink of this amazing world as we have, alongside all that we continue to do that keeps this world burning and spinning in ways our planet cannot sustain. It is both sobering and hopeful.
Oh I am so happy to read this gorgeous piece another *time.* I see all the different scales of time this time more clearly—fermentation time for pickles ( new bath towels were my new motherhood thing), celestial time, seasons of trees and squirrels, pregnancy, childhood to adult time, running out of climate change turnaround runway time…..And then the stillness in the lack of it in the void. Then the weird static jet lag of Covid. And now the close of this visceral self intensive time that feels as much like that super nova for many of us as it does a journey through time, space, and self. If cucumbers can be pickles in mason jar time and we can still be star bodies after such a long time, then maybe we can embrace the transformation with the gift of time and not sweat the shift in our time together ahead. But damn I will miss it.
I know I said this before, but you don’t need to offer me any writing classes Jeannine, just to read your beautiful writing is plenty value. Thank you!
Your essay is one that could be written only by one who brought children into the world in the 1990's. Or maybe I think that because I am one of those, and you have captured so poignantly what I remember of that time. So much optimistic hope in the face of doom's evidence. You are reminding me of a way I used to pay attention in the world, and that I have lost something I used to have. I think I'd like to find it again. So much here to sit with.
Thanks so much, Rita. Yes, it was really like that then, but in crafting this, of course, laying it all out in a row, I experienced it in new way. Thank you for reading and writing with me.
I feel that, too! I am interested to hear what you discover. I know I let my children’s eyes and interests guide mine and point my body where we needed to go next. The world looked different close up then, too. I am in flight/ avoidance mode in that front. After filtering and outsourcing desire and curiosity throughout two childhoods I am seeing glimmers and feeling tugs but have not quite tapped my own propulsion yet. But being here is really getting me ready.
I feel this a lot, Emily--things have changed a lot. I can't take it all in the way I used to. I have to be selective. At least, I think that is what you are saying? I want to sense the world, experience it, but I can't take in all the broken parts all at the same time. I cannot monitor and track the escalation of destruction. It's just too big.
Yep- exactly. I peek out from under my rock and dart back under as needed. Very selective in my consumption of media, news sources and type. All about pace and perspective, hoping to control it rather than vice versa.
Yes--this is what I wanted to say!
"Filtering and outsourcing desire and curiosity" is ringing true. Like you, I am seeing glimmers and feeling tugs, but that is all so far. The last two years, I have had one adult child living with me and another needing significant support, and I think I'm still belonging too much to others' desires and curiosities. Maybe. Or just their needs. But I've also felt overwhelmed by the world. I remember the mother Orca, and how I paid attention to that story. How I felt it. Now, so many stories slide past me. There are too many hard things.
You seem ready. I hope I get to see what happens for you!
Oh my gosh the mother orca. Do you know that poem, Tour of Grief?!
No, I don't.
“I think I'm still belonging too much to others' desires and curiosities. Maybe. Or just their needs. But I've also felt overwhelmed by the world.”
This. ☝️ Yes-Overwhelm & a bone marrow deep tired that intermittently vexes me; hoards & hides my favorite self from me. Curiosity, desire, wonder, creativity- I whisper to them in my sleep- “please don’t give up on me yet;” I dream of my dead mother & flickering flames.
Oh, Colleen, that's so beautiful.
💕 truly gorgeous.
💙
That is a good observation. My daughters were born in 1992 and 1994. I never dreamt that now in their 30s we wouldn't have done more to heed nature's warnings. But I remain hopeful because that is more empowering than despair. I think it is no coincidence my younger daughter is now getting her PhD in environmental policy and has attended several UN Climate talks as observer and the older is looking to return to her anthropology roots and focus on the issue of water scarcity. They see what's happening, these Millennials, they grew up exploring the forests and lakes of Sweden and traveling the world, and they're heartbroken but fierce about doing what they can to undo the damage of their parents and grandparents and greatgrandparents.
I have to remain hopeful too. I think Rebecca Solnit is leading a beautiful, true charge on the front of hopefulness, and I am with her.
I love this, Amy.
I loved reading this for a second time, Jeannine, so powerfully crafted to blend motherhood and its hope that future generations can live and thrive and eat and drink of this amazing world as we have, alongside all that we continue to do that keeps this world burning and spinning in ways our planet cannot sustain. It is both sobering and hopeful.
Thank you so much, Amy. I agree with you about the sobering and hopeful part, and I am glad you are here.
Great essay!
Yes, we hold our daughters’ hands while standing in strong and fearsome waves
Now I care for their grandfather, and though he’s always been a pessimist, somehow I wound up with incurable optimism
Thank you, Michelle. I appreciate your optimism. xoxo
Oh I am so happy to read this gorgeous piece another *time.* I see all the different scales of time this time more clearly—fermentation time for pickles ( new bath towels were my new motherhood thing), celestial time, seasons of trees and squirrels, pregnancy, childhood to adult time, running out of climate change turnaround runway time…..And then the stillness in the lack of it in the void. Then the weird static jet lag of Covid. And now the close of this visceral self intensive time that feels as much like that super nova for many of us as it does a journey through time, space, and self. If cucumbers can be pickles in mason jar time and we can still be star bodies after such a long time, then maybe we can embrace the transformation with the gift of time and not sweat the shift in our time together ahead. But damn I will miss it.
It's not ending, though--it's just going to be the next thing! You'll see! xoxo
Woohooo!!!
Oh Emily.💕🥰
Really lovely, thank you.
Thank you so much, Joshua, I appreciate that!
This took my breath.
Thank you so much, Suzanne!
I know I said this before, but you don’t need to offer me any writing classes Jeannine, just to read your beautiful writing is plenty value. Thank you!
Thank you, friend 🙏
This is beautiful and heart wrenching, Jeannine.
Thank you so much, Matt. I appreciate it!
Oh. Just oh my heart. Your writing is music.