So yes, everything makes me cry. Don’t think you’re special, trees. But I’ve been particularly overcome lately - which means a lot of crying! more than normal! - and I literally have been unable to stop thinking about the climate crisis of our planet. I cried myself to sleep one night thinking about it and instead of coming up with something to do, or any - literally any - actionable steps I just wallowed. It’s easy to do, wallowing. You can feel good about yourself for feeling bad while at the same time you’ve absolved yourself of having to do anything. You feel awful, isn’t that enough?
Well I know what you’re thinking. First world problems, more useless white woman tears. Which -
I mean you’re not wrong, but wow, rude.
So to curb the existential dread that now seems to follow us all, that shall drown us in perpetuity, I have gotten some sleep, dried those pesky tears, and actually looked at what I can do. I mean things are definitely pretty hopeless, but that didn’t stop Sisyphus, did it, so why should it stop me? Everyday I’m trying to do something, no matter how small, that might help.
And to deal with my difficult, pesky feelings, I’ve been trying to turn to poetry. I hope you know by now (this is the third newsletter, after all, which is practically all the time in the world to get to know me), but I’d share those poems with you even if they were very bad. The only reason I’m not sharing them - because, hoo boy, they are bad - is because they’re not finished. All I’ve got now is “I wake up everyday and the world is on fire,” flames licking my face, the air so hot tears leave my eyes as steam. Ooh also a different poem about eating a peach! (I work out complicated feelings in, uh… complicated ways.)
I don’t mean to make light of things. This is a newsletter about how I don’t write poetry, the only thing I’m an expert in is - see above - crying.
Also I lied. Trees, you are special. More special than you know. So special, in fact, that nothing else makes me feel as at home. I’ve written before about how much I love the feeling before a storm, how electric it makes me feel, how alive, how real and creative and full of a boundless, wild energy, but something similar happens around trees. It’s just as big, but much more sedate. And this is not a weird me thing (I would not blame you AT ALL for thinking that, though) - this is a documented phenomenon. It’s called forest bathing and there is growing evidence that being outside - for at least 120 minutes a week - can help you feel better. Also, interestingly, about 30% of the planet is covered in trees. I’ve been “working” on an essay about trees in human culture for two months so while I absolutely would do research just for a brief paragraph in a free newsletter, I actually just knew that because of all the research I’d already done.
Anyway! Nothing else to report. Trees make me cry. Go outside and be around some trees. Only thing I’ve written and put online was this satire piece about using(exploiting?) babies as content: here.