I don’t want to convince you to be here.

A stack of round purple stickers that read “HUG,” on a white window sill.

At our Firefly retreat last weekend, we had a funny conversation about what this would look like if we were a pyramid scheme.

“Buy 5 Hello Writer subscriptions and re-sell them to your friends, we believe in you!”
“Pre-order 250 sealed writing prompts and distribute them at your leisure!”

It was equal parts funny and… familiar? Every time I turn on my phone, I’m assailed by pushy, manipulative sales tactics. I said, “There are so many ways to make business gross.” We all sighed.

I listened to an interview a while ago with poet and conflict mediator Pádraig Ó Tuama, where he said that in poetry, just as in conflict, he never wants to convince anyone. To convince, he said, is to power over, to try to change the other. Instead, he wants to reveal, to connect, to demonstrate, and to hold it all in a compassionate gaze. (I’m adding some of my own words here.)

That’s what I want to do. This little space we share, you and me, every few weeks, it’s sacred. And it feels complicated sometimes, because I need to sell things in order to keep this all going, but I never want that to be at the expense of our connection.

Dream with me for a moment — what would business look like if were released from the drive to convince?

What would shop windows look like? TV ads? Websites? What if business owners and promoters saw it as their job to authentically explain their products, and then hold the door for whoever genuinely wanted to walk through it? How would that doorway feel?

I don’t know, but I do know that I want you to feel joyful, resourced and connected every time you visit this space, whether you’re here to buy something or not. And when you do make an exchange with us, I want it to come from a deep and ready sense of yes.

You’re part of this, just by reading along.

I’m glad you’re here. Let’s keep our heart soft, and keep doing this our own way.

In it with you,