My practice this year: a small notebook in which I will record, each day, one good thing. It may be something I see or hear (today it was the Western Bluebird in the neighbor’s holly bushes) or something that I’ve read or listened to, or something one of the grandkids did that gave me what my own grandmother would have called nachus. There is enough out there that will break my elderly heart if I let it. I am going to practice finding and holding what lifts me up, and giving thanks for it. Right now I am thankful for your fine writing, Elissa. May the coming year be good to you.
Betsy, much like you I have decided to write down one good thing from each day in the new year. My lifelong best friend sent along the idea to write down and store them in a jar; at the end of the year, go back and read what made you happy or smile on a particular day and be grateful for the good points in the year. It’s such a joy to read beautiful words from intelligent women, such as yourself and Elissa. Wishing you both a peaceful year 💕
After reading an article in the Guardian about writing about delights, I have kept a running list of one delight per day, whether it's the changing sky or the backyard scrub jay, or something to do with my grandkids, or the taste of an apple. It's lovely to look back on, and has sharpened my senses to looking for delights in a mundane or frightening world.
My daily notes are of things for which I'm grateful --I try not to repeat myself throughout the year and as Nancy mentioned, the practice sharpens my senses, makes me more aware of the small, ordinary things that delight me, that I'd be lost without, that cause me to praise the universe. Some days my notes are more of things that went well that day or one good thing that happened, but most always I can find three gratitudes.
Elissa, your words brought tears to my eyes. I well understand and can relate to the sadness and traumas you experienced under the guise of “good parenting “. But somehow you always knew there was more. And at the age of 67, I am letting myself discover that “more”. The beauty of watching birds fight over the seed I feed them every morning. The beauty of sweet music playing while I read, bundled up in a blanket. The beauty of my daily walks in the woods, talking to the deer with their furry winter coats. I always thought there was supposed to be more. And now I’m discovering that there is…and always has been….right in front of me.
This is a gorgeous piece of writing. I have sent it to two friends (also writers). It is well composed and original and funny and it says something wise I hadn’t heard before.
I was gripped throughout! Inspired by your storytelling and the vivid evocation of times past. As a child (growing up Christian), Christmases were a beacon of light in the darkness of an oppressive and troubled home. The imprint that left on me has never gone.
This is the most beautiful thing I've read on Substack in a long time. My childhood and twenties were very different but I can exactly relate to the child's longing and the young woman's hidden heartbreak in winter. Thanks for this!
Keep curious! One rarely knows what will capture one’s interest. Be open. Curiosity releases one from the prison of ego and grievance. Never stop learning. It’s a way out.
Grateful to you, Elissa, for inspiring these thoughts.
I read lots of things here on Substack. I don’t always “like” (heart) what I read, and I comment even less. But I read your piece and immediately thought “This is one I’d like to comment on.” I searched and searched for the words I wanted to say, but only one word came. One word rattling around and around my brain. Yes.
Hi 😊🇬🇧… since my Mother passed in June I have been dreading the Christmas Season .. going to the house which was always full of her passion and love and beautiful decs… seeing my father was so hard amongst the non decorated house( his request )… but also amongst the sadness and darkness which comes with our loss we managed to find some happiness and light ..and so each day my challenge will be to find a pocket full of happiness and joy each day, even if it’s just a slither. Thanks for your thoughts , words and reflections 😊🎄
Oh, thank you for this. You’ve just opened a whole new space in my brain … and I can’t wait to fill that new space with ideas and interests and … well … who knows what else. Possibilities, I guess. And hope. Happy winter to you!
>>Whoever they are and however they were raised culturally, ethnically, or spiritually, this much seems true: they understand intuitively the concepts of hope and promise, which makes it that much more horrifying to see them, whoever they are, having been stripped of that in the name of war, terror, trauma. Because children are children, and they cling like crazy to hope and promise. And when someone comes along and says No, sorry, this joy is not for you, it spins their internal compass like nothing else.<<
Elissa!!! This is easily the best essay I've read in years. Thank you for a mesmerizing reflection on Winter and Christmas as well as offering a way forward through example. Well done.
Was reading this with appreciation all the way through, and then surprised and delighted to see the mention of The Winter Book at the very end. I don't know anyone else who's read those stories, and so have never been able to have a conversation about them. If you happen to be in the same boat, and would enjoy reading someone else's take, there are discussions of two of them here, along with a discussion of a third short story of hers from a different collection. https://open.substack.com/pub/notesfromlinnesby/p/three-short-stories-by-tove-jansson?r=2u2cxe&utm_medium=ios
This is wonderful—thank you! I believe there are many fans of Tove Jansson here, including the great Katherine May, whose mention of her several years ago re-introduced me as an adult to her work (such that I have since gone down the proverbial rabbit hole). As a child, though, I was introduced to Moomin-clature by my mother’s best friend, who was born and raised in occupied Norway, and who loved Jansson’s work.
Oh, wow! How remarkable, and lovely. Did your mother's friend share her own stories as well (if you were of an age to hear them)? If you've seen any discussions of The Winter Book stories by Katherine May or anyone else, I would love the links, if you happen to have time. I enjoyed writing about these two (and the Moomin-world one), but would love to see other people's responses and interpretations. Including your own, if you happen to be in the mood to write about them.
My practice this year: a small notebook in which I will record, each day, one good thing. It may be something I see or hear (today it was the Western Bluebird in the neighbor’s holly bushes) or something that I’ve read or listened to, or something one of the grandkids did that gave me what my own grandmother would have called nachus. There is enough out there that will break my elderly heart if I let it. I am going to practice finding and holding what lifts me up, and giving thanks for it. Right now I am thankful for your fine writing, Elissa. May the coming year be good to you.
Betsy, much like you I have decided to write down one good thing from each day in the new year. My lifelong best friend sent along the idea to write down and store them in a jar; at the end of the year, go back and read what made you happy or smile on a particular day and be grateful for the good points in the year. It’s such a joy to read beautiful words from intelligent women, such as yourself and Elissa. Wishing you both a peaceful year 💕
After reading an article in the Guardian about writing about delights, I have kept a running list of one delight per day, whether it's the changing sky or the backyard scrub jay, or something to do with my grandkids, or the taste of an apple. It's lovely to look back on, and has sharpened my senses to looking for delights in a mundane or frightening world.
My daily notes are of things for which I'm grateful --I try not to repeat myself throughout the year and as Nancy mentioned, the practice sharpens my senses, makes me more aware of the small, ordinary things that delight me, that I'd be lost without, that cause me to praise the universe. Some days my notes are more of things that went well that day or one good thing that happened, but most always I can find three gratitudes.
Elissa, your words brought tears to my eyes. I well understand and can relate to the sadness and traumas you experienced under the guise of “good parenting “. But somehow you always knew there was more. And at the age of 67, I am letting myself discover that “more”. The beauty of watching birds fight over the seed I feed them every morning. The beauty of sweet music playing while I read, bundled up in a blanket. The beauty of my daily walks in the woods, talking to the deer with their furry winter coats. I always thought there was supposed to be more. And now I’m discovering that there is…and always has been….right in front of me.
Wishing you a glorious and magical “Wintering”.
Elissa,
This piece is beautifully written. Yours is such a magnificent and wonderful talent.
Thank you so very much for sharing it with me.
I truly love your prose in your storytelling.
Cordially,
Pepper Miller
This is a gorgeous piece of writing. I have sent it to two friends (also writers). It is well composed and original and funny and it says something wise I hadn’t heard before.
I was gripped throughout! Inspired by your storytelling and the vivid evocation of times past. As a child (growing up Christian), Christmases were a beacon of light in the darkness of an oppressive and troubled home. The imprint that left on me has never gone.
Thank you, Elissa, for this life-line of an essay. Happy New Year to you.
This is the most beautiful thing I've read on Substack in a long time. My childhood and twenties were very different but I can exactly relate to the child's longing and the young woman's hidden heartbreak in winter. Thanks for this!
Keep curious! One rarely knows what will capture one’s interest. Be open. Curiosity releases one from the prison of ego and grievance. Never stop learning. It’s a way out.
Grateful to you, Elissa, for inspiring these thoughts.
I read lots of things here on Substack. I don’t always “like” (heart) what I read, and I comment even less. But I read your piece and immediately thought “This is one I’d like to comment on.” I searched and searched for the words I wanted to say, but only one word came. One word rattling around and around my brain. Yes.
Hi 😊🇬🇧… since my Mother passed in June I have been dreading the Christmas Season .. going to the house which was always full of her passion and love and beautiful decs… seeing my father was so hard amongst the non decorated house( his request )… but also amongst the sadness and darkness which comes with our loss we managed to find some happiness and light ..and so each day my challenge will be to find a pocket full of happiness and joy each day, even if it’s just a slither. Thanks for your thoughts , words and reflections 😊🎄
Oh, thank you for this. You’ve just opened a whole new space in my brain … and I can’t wait to fill that new space with ideas and interests and … well … who knows what else. Possibilities, I guess. And hope. Happy winter to you!
So much greatness here, Elissa. Thank you.
>>Whoever they are and however they were raised culturally, ethnically, or spiritually, this much seems true: they understand intuitively the concepts of hope and promise, which makes it that much more horrifying to see them, whoever they are, having been stripped of that in the name of war, terror, trauma. Because children are children, and they cling like crazy to hope and promise. And when someone comes along and says No, sorry, this joy is not for you, it spins their internal compass like nothing else.<<
Elissa!!! This is easily the best essay I've read in years. Thank you for a mesmerizing reflection on Winter and Christmas as well as offering a way forward through example. Well done.
Was reading this with appreciation all the way through, and then surprised and delighted to see the mention of The Winter Book at the very end. I don't know anyone else who's read those stories, and so have never been able to have a conversation about them. If you happen to be in the same boat, and would enjoy reading someone else's take, there are discussions of two of them here, along with a discussion of a third short story of hers from a different collection. https://open.substack.com/pub/notesfromlinnesby/p/three-short-stories-by-tove-jansson?r=2u2cxe&utm_medium=ios
This is wonderful—thank you! I believe there are many fans of Tove Jansson here, including the great Katherine May, whose mention of her several years ago re-introduced me as an adult to her work (such that I have since gone down the proverbial rabbit hole). As a child, though, I was introduced to Moomin-clature by my mother’s best friend, who was born and raised in occupied Norway, and who loved Jansson’s work.
Oh, wow! How remarkable, and lovely. Did your mother's friend share her own stories as well (if you were of an age to hear them)? If you've seen any discussions of The Winter Book stories by Katherine May or anyone else, I would love the links, if you happen to have time. I enjoyed writing about these two (and the Moomin-world one), but would love to see other people's responses and interpretations. Including your own, if you happen to be in the mood to write about them.
This piece is so beautiful. It warmed my heart ❤️ thank you
I love this. Thank you