Pride Goeth Before...a Leap!

10 things that happened since I last appeared here

Sunset, Max Pechstein, 1921

Maintaining a regular publishing cadence in this space used to be a point of pride for me. For three years, I published a weekly essay. One of those years, there was a podcast, and the next, I produced weekly audio essays. In the fourth year, when I started my degree, I published two essays a month, until, reading and writing endless pages for the degree, and managing a bi-locational, multiple-career marriage, I realized one essay per month and one behind-the-scenes note was all I could handle. This year, as I tried to find my footing in our full life and create balance amidst competing pressures, I had to simply let go.

We have been here, asking life’s big questions, for five and a half years (!), so at first, letting go of a steady publishing cadence—widely considered the only way to attract readers—felt like a big failure. To create connection in the online space, a writer must be dependable and present. To make matters worse, I have long built an identity on reliability. I am a responsible Capricorn rising and somehow the whole world knows it. Growing up, I was crowned neighborhood babysitter by the time I turned 11.

I have always been a person who will answer emails, respond to texts, and find time for people in my schedule. I anticipate others’ needs and try to meet them. I am deeply attuned to people’s emotional and energetic ripples and have bent myself to accommodate them. This past year, I had to get serious about what it means to bend instead towards my own needs, along with my family’s. (A work in progress.)

After October, life prevented me from writing for this space. The reasons were part thrilling and part difficult. When I considered whether or not I was ruining what I have built here with you, I realized that grasping onto a false sense of availability does not offer anything to anyone—least of all me. Instead, I imagined myself holding out my hands when the right time to return arrived, palms stretched up, hi, hello, it’s me. I’m here. And I knew, in my imagining, that a lot of you would stick with me, which is a startling generosity, and leaves me grateful.

The amazing thing is that now, on the other side of the fall, I can see that letting go of what I thought had to happen in this space allowed me to grow. As a person. But especially—and this is the part I find most exciting—as a writer. How interesting is it that as soon as we let go of old patterns and expectations, we start to bloom?

If I were to describe how I’ve bloomed, I would share ten things that happened since I last appeared here:

Writing Workshop!!!
This fall, I had the opportunity to take a creative nonfiction workshop with an experienced writer and editor. It changed me! There were 12 of us, all scared, all wondering how we would ever produce essays on demand in the midst of our degree, which requires so much other work beyond that. Creative work thrives with room to breathe, and that is the primary thing we do not have. But somehow, we did it. We workshopped each other’s pieces, repeatedly, with care, depth, and wisdom. We formed relationships along the way. When I tell you I am blown away by, and a little in love with, every person who went through that experience with me, I am not exaggerating. Divinity students are among the most thoughtful people in the world, but divinity writers? I cannot. The experience illuminated that for me, the next step as a writer is to develop work away from internet cadences, styles, and expectations. So letting go of former rhythms here allowed important artistic growth to happen.

Health Scare
In November I experienced a serious health scare. I was a walking panic attack for two weeks. I could not breathe; I could not think. I was told I needed surgery within one month. The surgery came with reproductive risks. I spiraled. There is not much room in my shared life with John right now, especially during the heat of my semester and his orchestra seasons, for crisis. But I kept talking to people about what I was experiencing, even though it made me uncomfortable. I have been practicing sharing with others when I am struggling this year, rather than suffering in silence, so I stuck to it. The sharing led to people advocating on my behalf, and long story short, I gained access to an experimental treatment that allows me to avoid the surgery. I am so grateful!

New York Days
For years, John and I aimed towards living in New York, or at least close enough that frequent day trips are possible. We want to be tied to the pulse of the world in that way—always taking in style, art, music, food, attitude. Long-time readers will remember two attempted transitions to New York, on either side of Covid lockdowns, before we moved to Connecticut. New Haven is less than two hours from Grand Central on the train, so it fit our geographical vision, which was a major perk. Through the summer and fall, we spent several days in New York, and on one trip, it hit me. We did it! We are doing it! We made our dream come true!

Ireland with Soul Friends
Maxwell is a Scottish name, and in October, I got serious about exploring my Celtic side. I joined two soul friends on a trip to Ireland! We explored Dublin, Cork, and Galway, and it was pure delight. I especially enjoyed Dublin’s literary tradition, with highlights being Hodges Figgis, the best bookstore I have ever visited (and I am bookstore obsessed) and the Dublin Literary Pub Crawl (no, seriously, it’s so fun). I have been reading the Irish books I procured at Hodges Figgis ever since. Importantly, a souvenir keychain at Blarney Castle reminded me, for the first time since childhood, that my last name comes with a motto: I flourish again.

Clarity about Future
Last year, for a school project, I created an oracle deck that used collage and written word to reinterpret apocalyptic images from the book of Revelation, which have been used harmfully for ages (to condone the land and body domination of colonizers in the United States, for example, or to fuel modern, racist anti-immigration policies). This year, I wrote and recorded a modern setting of the Magnificat! I also wrote four essays this fall. My projects revealed that I spent years of my life as a musician for a reason. I am an artist and creative first of all, and that is where I must focus my energy. I have been distracted, at times, by a need to pay bills or the allure of traditional achievement, but I am ready to put that behind me. I want to write essays, write songs; read them, sing them—and do some of that in collaboration with my husband. It feels so nice to be clear about who I am.

Boosted Confidence
For the first time ever, I feel confident that the things I want to do most are possible. Several projects I worked on this fall boosted my confidence and encouraged me to prioritize my creative goals above everything else. (Though the confidence is boosted, I still don’t know how to get dream projects done, in a practical, organize-my-days kind of way. My goal for this year is to figure that out.)

Figured Out Health Non-Negotiables
My shared life with John is bursting at the seams. My degree is all-consuming, and he has multiple jobs, three of which are leading orchestras. Those three orchestras are all in different cities, 800 miles away from me. His most intense periods often overlap with my most intense periods. The result has been absolutely wild. We are figuring it out as we go. It has been harder than we could have imagined. It has also been more beautiful than we ever expected. We have not found the right equation yet, thought we have tried something a little different every semester. What I have discovered is that, in response to the chaos (and beauty), maintaining my health is non-negotiable. It may sound obvious, but it is too often first thing to go. To manage everything we are doing, I require extra sleep, significantly more protein than I used to consume (for my nervous system!), an arsenal of cortisol-reducing supplements, hormone support from a naturopath, regular workouts, extra electrolytes, quiet time with myself, and down time with Herbie and John. These pillars are non-negotiable, but once a semester accelerates and swallows me up, I have trouble maintaining the list. This coming semester, I am going to prioritize all of these, all the time, even if the cost is social and professional commitments, which have often overtaken my ability to give myself what I need. This year, I will continue learning the power of recognizing how little I can do.

Beloved Friendships
This fall, I continued consciously investing in relationships that have proven themselves to be trustworthy, sustainable, and committed. Divinity school is a close-relationship-incubator! Trauma bonds? Yeah, probably. The deep, lasting connection that comes from sharing a very particular experience? No question. I also have incredible gratitude and affection for my close pre-div school circle, all of whom hang with me, offering love and support, even when I disappear for large parts of a semester and emerge at the end like a burnt piece of toast.

Hudson Valley Weekend
John and I spent a weekend in Kingston, New York over Thanksgiving Break. The food, the style! We saw Gillian Welch in concert. We were surprised by the food culture in a way I have not experienced in a very long time, since everything, especially “New American” and “farm to table,” tends to look and feel exactly the same these days. Bor—ing. Should we move to a farmhouse in the Hudson Valley? I’m thinking peaceful.

Witnessed John’s Artistry
My husband is doing really cool stuff in the music world. I am going to leave it at that, though I could talk about it for ages. It brings me deep pleasure to continue witnessing his artistic vision and commitment to ethical leadership, especially after quietly building towards these moments for years. This is not to say he does everything perfectly, but that he is truly dedicated to paving roads towards material changes for musicians and reshaping what voices and experiences are considered valid in the classical space. For him, conducting is always an invitation and a collaboration, not a dictatorship. Sadly, I did not see a single concert he performed in the fall, since I needed to find a slower pace and ground myself in New Haven for the final year of my MDiv. We were trying a new equation after a much-too-stressful spring. But we both missed sharing those moments, so this spring, we are mixing it up again. (Like I said, work in progress.) I am excited to see his big performances and reconnect with music-making friends!

That’s all for today. Happy new year. Thank you, thank you for being here with me to ask life’s big questions. Let’s keep it going. Amidst the world’s ups and downs I remain

Yours,
Lauren

P.S. A poem (“so this is the sound of you,”love that line) and a song (“no more hiding,”that means us) for the new year.

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