I’ve been participating in a Zoom journaling class every Sunday morning since last July with a teacher and a small group of women who are mostly from the DC area – all of whom were strangers before the class. It quickly became a dependable source of solace and structure in my life during a time of isolation and uncertainty, and after the initial course was over, we voted to continue together on a weekly basis. Over time, it has transformed into my version of church, and the “hymns” we sing are poems, tiny essays, personal memories, and drawings that all become part of our journals. Recently, I’ve also been co-hosting a monthly in-person workshop called The Joy of Writing at a local arts organization, and the underlying hum of a group intent on getting words down feels like a hive of bees turning pollen into golden honey. Trying to be creative can seem pointless in a dark and unpredictable world, but as Sister Corita Kent observed, “It is a huge danger to pretend that awful things do not happen. But you need enough hope to keep going. I am trying to make hope. Flowers grow out of darkness.” So no matter what passion helps illuminate your life – writing, painting, music, gardening – let it bloom today.

 

I love hydrangeas and buy them at the grocery whenever they're available, but sometimes they start to wilt too fast. I learned on a friend’s Instagram (@asimplenest) about a hydrangea hack that involves cutting the stems on a diagonal and then soaking the flower heads in a bowl or sink of water for a couple of hours when you bring them home. It makes them last longer, because hydrangeas absorb water through their petals! It sounds crazy, but it works like magic. Who knew?

I discovered the poem “Atomic Prayer” by Cornelius Eady last month, and although it was written at the end of the Cold War, it seems fitting for our precarious global situation right now. Irreverent and sly, it speaks to the part of me that wants to smash the tv screen when confronted with my own powerlessness in the face of violence, corrupt politicians and corporate greed. I found the poem on Devin Kelly’s newsletter, Ordinary Plots, and I love how he counterintuitively paired it with one of my favorites, “Small Kindnesses,” by Danusha Laméris. Together they make so much poetic sense.

This month, a friend invited me to the Candlelight Concert at the historic Unitarian Church – in my opinion, the most beautiful church in Charleston. When we walked into the sanctuary, it was filled with what seemed to be hundreds of candles on every surface, and in the dark surrounded by candlelight, we listened to a string quartet play Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. It was an achingly beautiful pause in the midst of the horrors of the news. The next concerts, “From Bach to The Beatles,” will be held on March 16 and April 13. Tickets and info available here , plus a list of concerts in other cities across the country.

Speaking of candles, I don’t think I can resist the Bibliothèque one from Byredo. The name and description conjure up the hush of an Old-World library and the aroma of shelves of old books and worn leather with a dash of patchouli. I might be romanticizing it, but I think I have to splurge and see for myself.