Keep the Change
"Looking Glass" by Suze Corte, Asheville artist and world-class mom.
This is an excerpt from the June 2021 email care package, a delightfully free monthly email written by Quinn Corte. Click here to subscribe, or click here to donate.
Happy June, dear ones.
This month's care package has musings on embracing the uncertainty of change, lots of links to browse (especially about re-entry and reinvention), and our first essay in a series about anti-racism and wellness. Enjoy it all in one sitting, follow the one or two things that spark your interest, or dip into it throughout June.
~
This past year has brought up ten million questions about what's next, and nearly all of them have been met with a shrug. So much has been up in the air that I have joked about making a t-shirt that says, "I dunno." That seems to be my answer to anyone who questions me about my future "plans."
But as I sit down to write this monthly note to you, I'm feeling hopeful.
Though the future still feels totally up in the air, I find myself nesting in the curve of that ever-present question mark with my feet up, enjoying the view. Uncertainty is the new normal. And in *this* particular moment, the consistency of not knowing what's next is starting to...comfort me.
Yes, there has been enormous discomfort, grief, and pain that have come with the upheaval and rebuilding of my life. Yes, this period of relentless change has been exhausting (cruelly so, sometimes). Yes, I have a very loud and irritated inner project manager who wields a stopwatch and clipboard and hates that she can't plan what's next.
But I also live for changing course. I'm deeply restless, curious, and adventurous. Without change, I would be in the same place forever (my worst nightmare). The ability to make the choice to change the course of my life is one of the most joyous privileges of being human. And adapting to unexpected change is one of my superpowers (yours, too). If I'm really honest, my inner project manager gets bored when everything goes according to plan. She is much more alive when things get off track and she has to be scrappy and nimble and fluid.
I—like all of us—weathered very real hardships this past year. But when it came to the uncertainty, I wasn't struggling because my life was changing. I wanted a change! In fact, I had already taken massive steps to change my life. No. I was struggling because I was in the boat of change, trying fruitlessly to steer it in a certain direction, constantly pushing against a current of things I couldn't control.
And now? I have no idea what's next, but I'm hopeful. I'm open. I'm trusting.
I'm starting with the clarity of knowing what I don't want--what boundaries of mine can't be crossed, what feels like self-betrayal, what feels wrong in my body. That is my foundation. From there, I am trying to embrace what makes me most feel alive. I follow my curiosity. I pay attention to things that inspire or spark something within me, even if (especially if) they aren't part of my "plan." I trust those longings the most.
When something makes me feel more like myself, I take note of it without judgement.
I'm trying to move more slowly through my days so I can constantly check in with myself before responding, acting, or proceeding with anything new. I try to observe how the idea of a change feels in my body, and I also ask myself probing questions about my motivations. Am I considering saying "yes" to a thing because it would please someone else? Because it looks impressive? Because an older version of me wanted it? Because it's safe and I know the outcome?
Nothing is wrong with the parts of me that want to be praised, noticed, or secure. Those needs are all valid. But I also want change that takes me closer to myself instead of farther away from myself.
Change can be an out-of-control snowball or fruit slowly ripening on the vine. It can happen to us, by us, and for us.
As June ushers us into an era of recovery and reentry, my wish is that we all lean into the change we want to see in our lives. And then...release our grip on the reigns a little, and let wild, beautiful Change do its thing.
Anti-Racism + Wellness
Changing the world through healing, care, and conversation is the core of what we do at The Retreat Space. Anti-racism work is an integral part of this journey and this community.
Iconic Black writer and activist James Baldwin said, "Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced."
In order to dismantle white supremacy, we must first remove our blinders and talk openly about hard things. We must speak the truth about long-suppressed stories of oppression, and consider how to repair and prevent further harm.
Today is the centennial of the Tulsa Race Massacre, when an estimated 1,500 white officials and citizens destroyed a flourishing Black neighborhood in Oklahoma, murdering over 300 Black citizens and burning and bombing their businesses, homes, and churches. The story was systematically erased from the official narrative, and justice was never served. To learn the extent of this tragedy, I recommend this in-depth article in the Smithsonian and this podcast episode of The Daily (or here is a brief summary of events).
That grim anniversary, coupled with the one-year anniversary of the murder of George Floyd, is bringing up questions about our progress on the road to racial justice. What has changed in the past year? How do we stay sustainably engaged in the fight?
I chose this one-year anniversary to launch a series of anti-racism essays on our blog. Click here to read the first post: Cultivating Sustainable Hope.
Why is anti-racism work part of The Retreat Space? Because it's critical to keep anti-racism and collective care interwoven into the practice of self-care. The wellness industry has traditionally excluded People of Color, bypassed inconvenient truths, and capitalized on non-white cultural wisdom without context or respect. I want this space to be part of the change.
The series will contain insights, questions, and resources about the intersection of anti-racism and wellness. For now, it will be written by one privileged white woman who is not an anti-racism educator (me). It is not intended to be perfect or all-knowing, but to humbly keep the conversation alive.
If you identify as a Black, Indigenous, or Person of Color (BIPOC) and/or have experienced exclusion and oppression due to your identity, I invite you to skip these posts and tend to your own needs or enjoy a free resource in our library. The essays will be for everyone, but geared more toward those in our community who benefit from and want to dismantle their white privilege. Reading it may feel like extra emotional labor for those who experience systemic oppression firsthand. If you do decide to read and have any feedback to share, please reply and let me know.
Thank you for being on this journey with me.
The Browsing Nook
Here are some treats to browse, listen to, and linger on this month. Enjoy!
Suze Corte, my talented mom, just launched her new artist's website! I hope you enjoy browsing her bold, expressive, soulful paintings. It's a vulnerable thing to put our creative work out into the world, and I'm so proud of her for bravely going for it. You can support her by signing up for emails on her site, following her on Instagram, posting a kind comment on her blog, or buying her art. (The gorgeous image at the top is by her.)
"Each of us, if we are brutally honest, could make a list of the activities and relationships that we didn’t like in pre-pandemic times, but that we accepted through self-deception, sheer inertia, and the pressure to go along and get along." Arthur C. Brooks' essay, A Once-in-a-Lifetime Chance to Start Over, invites us to lean into this pivotal moment of possibility.
Were you catapulted into a love-hate relationship with working from home during the pandemic? Do you crave both in-person community work life and quieter at-home flexibility as we move forward? I really resonated with this writer's take on it: There’s a Perfect Number of Days to Work From Home, and It’s 2.
Glynnis MacNicol's essay about living alone during the pandemic is really...touching. Surviving a Year Without Touch.
My aunt, Nancy S. M. Waldman, has just released a two-volume collection of her short stories. From alien plants that take over a mother's house to an old man facing his ghosts in a post-apocalyptic town, Nancy's decades-worth of stories are full of imagination, emotion, humor, and delight. Get Volume 1 and Volume 2 for your upcoming trip to the beach (or to bed).
Speaking of reading, here's The Atlantic's Summer Reading Guide, with a book for every mood.
Are you a recovering people-pleaser like me? This is a life-changing concept that I've been practicing fiercely this past month. Ready? Here it is. You don't owe anyone an interaction.
xoxo,
Quinn
P.S. I am obsessed with this tea blend created by the women at the little Provincetown company, The Captain's Daughters. Calendula flowers, spearmint, lemongrass, fennel, rosemary and ginger help ground and soothe my entire body.