You really touched something in me today, Jeff, and in my tears I acknowledge the prayers rising in me through your words. I, too, am a creature of cities who now lives in a small Midwestern town---who daily seeks peace, fulfillment and connection while also being as responsible as possible to the world of needs around me. For so many years in my life, I looked toward my retirement with the question, "How much do I need?" At some point, however, that question changed and became , "How little do I need?" The answer has been "very little"--at least in the accumulative sense. As I have increasingly let go of the tangible and intangible "much," I have walked into the deepest, most profound and sacred richness. What a joy! I thank you for your part in that journey.
Jeff, your words really resonated with me today. While many of my retired peers invite me to various activities, traveling, busyness...so MUCH.... I feel often like I have to defend my contentment here...making myself available for the families and lonely ones that shop in our little farm store....appreciating the quiet and beauty of the creek, and fields and trees, the birds and livestock...its enough. This past week an incident in our neighborhood got national attention and I found myself caught up in the news, the drama and the information deluge...it was exhausting.....I woke this. morning with renewed appreciation for my/our simple life here....be blessed!
I really look forward to reading your thoughts every week, Jeff. My heart is always a little softer and a little more open after reading and reflecting. Thank you.
Oh thank you for this. Your writing is so gentle and yet so sharp. And I always learn how to reflect on inchoate thoughts more deeply after reading it. (And today the McSweeney's thing also made me laugh!) No pressure here but these notes are always a sweet gift in my inbox, even when I don't have time (!) to read them right away. Thank you!
Thank you, Jeff. We'll said! I feel like the last 10 years have just been a deluge. It is too much for a human body to carry. I find that quiet, embodied activities help the most - reading a physical book, painting, gardening, cooking, cleaning - and without a podcast going at the same time. We also walk or play with our dogs, who are oblivious to wars and rumors of wars and can get us connected to the simple delights of here and now. I love you simple practices - meals, farmers markets, local shops, the library, coffee in the afternoon. Those little things are healing and so human. Also - dahlias are stunning. Enjoy!
Thank you, Jeff. We'll said! I feel like the last 10 years have just been a deluge. It is too much for a human body to carry. I find that quiet, embodied activities help the most - reading a physical book, painting, gardening, cooking, cleaning - and without a podcast going at the same time. We also walk or play with our dogs, who are oblivious to wars and rumors of wars and can get us connected to the simple delights of here and now. I love you simple practices - meals, farmers markets, local shops, the library, coffee in the afternoon. Those little things are healing and so human. Also - dahlias are stunning. Enjoy!
I leave your letter in my inbox unread until I can find a few minutes alone with no distractions. Your words settle me, slow my breathing. Your words help me get out of my rat race and focus on living. They bring me back to a simpler life. Thank you
Your writing always touches me, but today's piece is particularly resonant. I recognize in how/what you and Tristan are creating those things that my family finds build resilience in our lives. Walking the dogs in our neighborhood each day, admiring the roses, listening to/observing birds in our backyard, reading, appreciating all the wonders of the comfortable home we've built over the years, and the amazing gift of singing in a choir with some of my best friends. Really small things, but things that add up to what I perceive to be the real richness in my life. As I get older, less is more. A vase of roses sitting on my great-grandparents table, the sunlight gleaming on the dark, scarred wood...immeasurable wealth. xoxoxox Amidst the turmoil of the world, home, family and music are my contentment. Thank you, Jeff, as always.
I traveled internationally for work last month and returned home so overwhelmed with the needs I observed that I had trouble breathing, eating, sleeping. So. Much. Overwhelming. Need. I did all the right things…prayed, rested, saw my therapist. But your words here have been such a comfort.
It's truly a wonder that we're able to jet around the world as we can nowadays, but I don't know that we yet know how to process all that hits us when we do, both good and bad. And I say this as someone who has been a globetrotting journalist for 20+ years.
During a season that I am simply hitting delete to any email that doesn't seem necessary, I stopped to read you today, because, well - life feels like too much right now. My brother died. Unexpectedly, a freak accident where he experienced heat exhaustion and he wandered into the Florida woods and died alone. This, 5 weeks after his wife died after 3 years of battling cancer. My younger brother and I flew to his home in hopes of finding a will and with hopes that we could convince our dad to move closer to one of us. We left empty handed. No will and a father who wouldn't budge. One week later hurricane Adalia hit Florida just a few miles from both houses. Our brother's house was flooded; my dad lost the dock on the back of his home. I am conservator for both of my parents and so my brother's estate (translated to bills, cars, too many chachkies, a flooded home and all the unknown accounts) is left to the next of kin - my parents. It's all too much! But, and I hope I don't sound too trite, one of my favorite passages is Colossians 1:17; he is before all things and in him all things hold together. So, I am remaining in him and trying to let him hold all things together.
Blessings to all who feel the too much of the world
My deepest condolences on the death of your brother as well as your brother's wife; that is so hard. Strength and courage to you as you navigate all the bureaucracy and the logistics of these difficult days.
Thank you for this Jeff. Absolutely some days feel so heavy, and that's without the extra burden of the personal challenges you mentioned (I am sending you good vibes for grace & ease, may you keep growing dahlias❤). You are right that the answer lies in centering ourselves, whether that is in the breath, the earth beneath our feet or the embrace of a loved one. It's in the paying attention and noticing.
I found that this section (when the world is too much) really resonated with me. And the two paintings were a stunning encapsulation of too-muchness and enough-ness. Thank you so much. Celia from Edinburgh
Considering your thoughts on putting down roots as I explore my soon-to-be-new hometown (NOT Grand Rapids! ;). I'm going to seek out a community garden as a way to connect and serve in this new place in the interim of renting and building our new home together. Putting my hands in the dirt has always been my antidote for processing the "muchness" of our fast-paced world.
You really touched something in me today, Jeff, and in my tears I acknowledge the prayers rising in me through your words. I, too, am a creature of cities who now lives in a small Midwestern town---who daily seeks peace, fulfillment and connection while also being as responsible as possible to the world of needs around me. For so many years in my life, I looked toward my retirement with the question, "How much do I need?" At some point, however, that question changed and became , "How little do I need?" The answer has been "very little"--at least in the accumulative sense. As I have increasingly let go of the tangible and intangible "much," I have walked into the deepest, most profound and sacred richness. What a joy! I thank you for your part in that journey.
💗”how little do i need”....
Jeff, your words really resonated with me today. While many of my retired peers invite me to various activities, traveling, busyness...so MUCH.... I feel often like I have to defend my contentment here...making myself available for the families and lonely ones that shop in our little farm store....appreciating the quiet and beauty of the creek, and fields and trees, the birds and livestock...its enough. This past week an incident in our neighborhood got national attention and I found myself caught up in the news, the drama and the information deluge...it was exhausting.....I woke this. morning with renewed appreciation for my/our simple life here....be blessed!
I really look forward to reading your thoughts every week, Jeff. My heart is always a little softer and a little more open after reading and reflecting. Thank you.
Oh thank you for this. Your writing is so gentle and yet so sharp. And I always learn how to reflect on inchoate thoughts more deeply after reading it. (And today the McSweeney's thing also made me laugh!) No pressure here but these notes are always a sweet gift in my inbox, even when I don't have time (!) to read them right away. Thank you!
Thank you, Jeff. We'll said! I feel like the last 10 years have just been a deluge. It is too much for a human body to carry. I find that quiet, embodied activities help the most - reading a physical book, painting, gardening, cooking, cleaning - and without a podcast going at the same time. We also walk or play with our dogs, who are oblivious to wars and rumors of wars and can get us connected to the simple delights of here and now. I love you simple practices - meals, farmers markets, local shops, the library, coffee in the afternoon. Those little things are healing and so human. Also - dahlias are stunning. Enjoy!
💗”quiet embodied activities...and without a podcast”.
I am slowly learning that less is more, especially when it comes to information.
Pondering--- What “information source” can i let go of just for today?
Thank you, Jeff. We'll said! I feel like the last 10 years have just been a deluge. It is too much for a human body to carry. I find that quiet, embodied activities help the most - reading a physical book, painting, gardening, cooking, cleaning - and without a podcast going at the same time. We also walk or play with our dogs, who are oblivious to wars and rumors of wars and can get us connected to the simple delights of here and now. I love you simple practices - meals, farmers markets, local shops, the library, coffee in the afternoon. Those little things are healing and so human. Also - dahlias are stunning. Enjoy!
I leave your letter in my inbox unread until I can find a few minutes alone with no distractions. Your words settle me, slow my breathing. Your words help me get out of my rat race and focus on living. They bring me back to a simpler life. Thank you
Your writing always touches me, but today's piece is particularly resonant. I recognize in how/what you and Tristan are creating those things that my family finds build resilience in our lives. Walking the dogs in our neighborhood each day, admiring the roses, listening to/observing birds in our backyard, reading, appreciating all the wonders of the comfortable home we've built over the years, and the amazing gift of singing in a choir with some of my best friends. Really small things, but things that add up to what I perceive to be the real richness in my life. As I get older, less is more. A vase of roses sitting on my great-grandparents table, the sunlight gleaming on the dark, scarred wood...immeasurable wealth. xoxoxox Amidst the turmoil of the world, home, family and music are my contentment. Thank you, Jeff, as always.
Maybe these "really small things" are not really so small after all.
Thank you.
I traveled internationally for work last month and returned home so overwhelmed with the needs I observed that I had trouble breathing, eating, sleeping. So. Much. Overwhelming. Need. I did all the right things…prayed, rested, saw my therapist. But your words here have been such a comfort.
It's truly a wonder that we're able to jet around the world as we can nowadays, but I don't know that we yet know how to process all that hits us when we do, both good and bad. And I say this as someone who has been a globetrotting journalist for 20+ years.
The “ability to stay in one place and linger in one’s own company.” Is a gift that is being lost.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
During a season that I am simply hitting delete to any email that doesn't seem necessary, I stopped to read you today, because, well - life feels like too much right now. My brother died. Unexpectedly, a freak accident where he experienced heat exhaustion and he wandered into the Florida woods and died alone. This, 5 weeks after his wife died after 3 years of battling cancer. My younger brother and I flew to his home in hopes of finding a will and with hopes that we could convince our dad to move closer to one of us. We left empty handed. No will and a father who wouldn't budge. One week later hurricane Adalia hit Florida just a few miles from both houses. Our brother's house was flooded; my dad lost the dock on the back of his home. I am conservator for both of my parents and so my brother's estate (translated to bills, cars, too many chachkies, a flooded home and all the unknown accounts) is left to the next of kin - my parents. It's all too much! But, and I hope I don't sound too trite, one of my favorite passages is Colossians 1:17; he is before all things and in him all things hold together. So, I am remaining in him and trying to let him hold all things together.
Blessings to all who feel the too much of the world
Yes, “it is all too much”.
May Presence hold and enfold you with each step you take.
💗🙏☮️
My deepest condolences on the death of your brother as well as your brother's wife; that is so hard. Strength and courage to you as you navigate all the bureaucracy and the logistics of these difficult days.
Thank you for this Jeff. Absolutely some days feel so heavy, and that's without the extra burden of the personal challenges you mentioned (I am sending you good vibes for grace & ease, may you keep growing dahlias❤). You are right that the answer lies in centering ourselves, whether that is in the breath, the earth beneath our feet or the embrace of a loved one. It's in the paying attention and noticing.
I found that this section (when the world is too much) really resonated with me. And the two paintings were a stunning encapsulation of too-muchness and enough-ness. Thank you so much. Celia from Edinburgh
You're welcome! I love Edinburgh. I still think often about the cheese cart at Martin Wishart as well as an outstanding meal at the Scran and Scallie.
Considering your thoughts on putting down roots as I explore my soon-to-be-new hometown (NOT Grand Rapids! ;). I'm going to seek out a community garden as a way to connect and serve in this new place in the interim of renting and building our new home together. Putting my hands in the dirt has always been my antidote for processing the "muchness" of our fast-paced world.
Thanks for the inspiration!