I don’t know much, but I do know this.

Top down view of a latte on a wooden table.

Hi.

I’ve struggled with this newsletter. I have a ton of thoughts I want to share with you… but my voice feels quiet these days, tender. There is so much in the air, so much hardness and need to know, so much fight and push.

It’s a hard time to pipe up, unless we’re delivering news about hand sanitizer or grocery cart handles. It’s a hard time to have a soft voice. It’s a hard time to have a soft heart.

The truth is, we are all in a tremendous mystery. We don’t know how long this will last. We don’t know what will be asked of us. We don’t know how the most precious things in our lives — our bodies, our relationships, our most vulnerable neighbours — will weather this storm.

And when the air is this thick, we reach for certainty, but what we need is kindness. What we need are ways to help us navigate from morning to night and then night to morning. Openness, empathy, spaciousness, soft hearts — all the things that are hardest to hold onto, all the things we risk stepping on in the drive to figure this out.

So, we have been working on some of those pieces. For you, for us. Writing helps. That’s one thing I know for sure. And we can help with writing.

That’s all for today.

While we slowly find ourselves again in this new arrangement, while we wash our hands and love each other as best we can, while we navigate from morning to night and back again, let’s remember that our voices have a place in this. And so do the small, soft ways we can let them out. Whenever you’re ready, we’re here to help with that.

Wishing you kindness,