Dear fellow wonderer,
Hi there! May was definitely a month of change for me. It was a month of having a big birthday and a month of deciding that I want to change things up in this newsletter. That heart-shaped disco ball turns out to be the perfect metaphor for all of it. This was the birthday when I asked for what I wanted. What I wanted was a dance party and a disco ball seemed required. And once I saw this heart-shaped version online I knew–to my husband’s befuddlement–that it was a heart I desperately had to have.
how this disco ball is a metaphor:
it’s heart-shaped: The notion of a pink heart-shaped disco ball made my actual heart feel all spinny. And speaking of hearts, this was a month when I really thought about you, dear reader, and what you might need. What are your lives like, where do you spend your time? Many of you are parents and educators–you’re busy people! Maybe a monthly newsletter deep-dive into a topic is not the best format for you. The newsletter form just keeps proliferating; how many long newsletters can one busy person read? The fact that you’ve subscribed to my newsletter makes my heart thrum. I want to offer what you need.
it’s moving: There was no point in having a disco ball that didn’t turn and throw off its magical light. Researching disco ball motors, I learned that the cheap ones tend to turn too fast. For old-school disco shimmer, a one-rotation-per-minute motor is best. Likewise, this month I had to keep my brain moving. If I’m getting more interaction from readers on what I’m calling the “scrolly apps,” could I work with that reality? What if I stuck with my notion of a monthly topical deep dive–but I broke down the subject matter into smaller bits and shared them across apps so you can find me where you are? I began experimenting with that format. I’ve collected and summarized those links below.
it’s made up of shimmering fragments: My disco heart is beautiful! It’s made up of hundreds of tiny mirrored rectangles in slightly varying shades of pink. I started thinking about the fragmented form this month. Of writing that comes in smaller pieces with more white space between sections. Some of my favorite books are written like this—see my linked video below—and I considered what fragmented work can offer, particularly how it can leave more space for the reader or viewer, and more opportunity for them participate in the work as it evolves—something I hope this new newsletter form might do.
you don’t get the full effect until you plug the thing in: When Chris first turned on the pinspot and set my heart-shaped disco ball in motion, I squealed with glee. I had no idea how those tiny mirrors would refract across our family room walls—tiny pink rectangles everywhere! Likewise in this newsletter, I’m plugging in this new plan and trying it out. Each month I’ll kick off the letter with an editor’s note like I’m doing here. Then I’ll compile links to the shorter works I’ve made over the month—on a shared theme—and add in conversation and insights from you! Rather than sending a second monthly newsletter with related links, I’ll include links in this single monthly missive. Fewer emails in your inbox–but, I hope, one monthly dispatch you look forward to reading. As always, I’d love to hear what you think!
xo,
Patricia
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what we chatted about this month:
This month we skipped the typical subject matter of this newsletter to explore the idea of changing things up here and the notion of taking in content in smaller pieces—and I posted across apps, trying to meet you where you are.
When I wondered via video whether “the scrolly apps” are an easier place for you to take in information, several of you agreed. [Watch on Substack, Instagram, TikTok]
Nic wrote: As crazy as it sounds, deep dives in small chunks sounds delightful. I can’t tell you how many times I’ll binge watch a series but balk at committing to a 2.5 hour movie.
And a member of my “silent faithful fan club” explained why they’re grateful for my work even if they don’t leave comments. <3
On the subject of comments, we talked about “meaty comments” and why we take the time to leave them. For me it’s typically that someone has written something I simply feel compelled to respond to. [Read on Substack, Instagram, TikTok]
Janet’s reason for sometimes leaving long comments: “I would say that writing more, better explains my thinking.” Me too, Janet, me too!
I made the case that books written in fragments and smaller parts might be popular not simply because our attention spans are fried–but for the space they allow for the reader. This video included my favorite books in these forms! (And my spinning disco heart makes its first appearance in its new home above my desk.) [Watch on Substack, Instagram, TikTok]
Several commenters helped me see I’m not alone in my love for the fragmented form. And Beth Ann Fennelly showed up to suggest her own Heating and Cooling, a book I own and recommend as a shimmering example of what white space on a page can do.
Finally, I wrote about why we shouldn’t judge newer (scrolly) ways of taking in information. Prioritizing long-form work (books, newsletters, in-depth articles) might not consider what we get from shorter forms: the ability to take in more voices, and then to synthesize and think in our own collaged way. [Read on Substack here and here, Instagram, TikTok]
Molly responded in agreement, writing about how, for her, TikTok is “where I quickly step over rocks, twigs, and common grasses, but then settle my attention on an interesting mushroom, herb, or animal – which I must know more about, and right now!” She also wrote that “Discernment is such a huge component of information gathering and critical thinking” and I loved her use of the word discernment. Yes! Discernment is a skill we need to build when we have so much information coming in, but I think as a society we don’t trust that people can develop such a skill. The knee-jerk reaction is to want to shut down whatever requires discernment—take phones away from kids, make adults feel bad about scrolling. But when we take such extremes, we miss out on opportunity.
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some links, related or simply too good to miss:
- This Ezra Klein Show episode [gift link] titled “We Have to Really Rethink the Purpose of Education” was right up my alley. It’s a chat with Rebecca Winthrop who wrote, along with Jenny Anderson, The Disengaged Teen, a book that’s vital right now. There are so many things to love about this conversation, especially Winthrop’s insight that a skill today’s kids need is motivation and engagement to learn new things. “They are go-getters. They’re going to be wayfinders. Things are going to shift and change, and they’re going to be able to navigate and constantly learn new things and be excited to learn new things.” (This fits thematically with my desire to change this newsletter—gotta be a wayfinder!)
- Chani Nicholas’ free Breakthrough Course. You don’t have to be an astrology fan—though if you are, you know that Chani is a queen—to benefit from her free Breakthrough Course. There’s no astrology involved; instead, it’s a 28-day course, just 10-15 minutes a day, that will help you have a breakthrough in whatever area you desire—and you don’t need to know just what you desire going in. This was excellent timing for me; I had some huge breakthroughs while doing the course this month, as did a friend of mine, in a totally different area. And then we got to sit together and do manifest-y crafts!
- In that “meaty comment” slide set I wrote about how over a couple days, I left my own meaty comments on several compelling newsletter posts, all excellent and worth a read: Courtney Martin on making art with kids, Elissa Strauss on why motherhood and feminism still feel unreconcilable, Lizzie from The Workspace for Children on protecting play and prioritizing rest for kids, and Julie Bogart on why today’s homeschoolers often feel a crisis of confidence. (I think the wisdom there might be applicable for parenthood in general.)
- I’m utterly broken-hearted to know that Amy Sharony, founder of home/school/life, has died of cancer. In addition to years of incredible offerings to the secular homeschooling world, Amy was also one of the first people to have faith in me as a writer. When I pitched the column of my dreams for her new magazine—an essayistic column with more questions than answers—she said yes and offered nothing but encouragement during my years working with her. She was a beacon of light and possibility in the homeschooling world and I hope her legacy carries on. You can support Amy’s family on this gofundme page.
- Spent the last night of my fifties watching Hurray for the Riff Raff at Little Saint in Healdsburg. I didn’t know the band before, but I love them now. Listening to The Past is Still Alive in the days before the show, I heard a familiar voice backing-up on “The World is Dangerous.” Yup, Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes. Chris gave me “I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning” for my 40th, and it’s still one of my favorite albums ever, so it felt kinda full-circle. Also, love how Hurray for the Riff Raff kept the pink birthday theme going during the show.
- The Alice Waters episode of Chef’s Table: Legends on Netflix made me happy. She’s been an icon of mine forever. Watching her history play out with scenic shots from my home turf was meaningful. Alice has everything to do with why folks can now buy organic produce at Costco and why school gardens exist all over the country. I cheered, “Amen, sister!” at the TV when she said, “That’s the place I want to live in. A place where we treasure our farmers and teachers.”
Celebrated my birthday during one of Chez Panisse’s Monday Night Dinners and it was perfect.
- If you’re in the Bay Area, I hope you get to the Ruth Asawa exhibit at the MOMA. It’s incredible: awe-inspiring in its story of Asawa coming out of a Japanese internment camp to make an artist of herself, and doing so as a devoted mother of six. She said, “I’ve always had my studio in the house because I wanted my children to understand what I do and I wanted to be there if they needed me—or a peanut butter sandwich.” The room-sized photo of her living room, full of her stunning wire sculptures and her children, is jaw-droppingly inspiring, and I’m currently loving Marilyn Chase’s Everything She Touched, a biography of Asawa. Eventually, she’d also do lots of work with Bay Area children, including this fountain, which I saw and fell in love with as a child, around the time of its opening. (And ooh, and that line— I wanted my children to understand what I do —is a tease of where we’re heading in this newsletter next month…)
Photo by Rondal Partridge
Cross-posted on substack.