Bright spots, dark days
Small glories and crumbs of joy
Hello pals,
Popping in to say hello, because bearing witness to the world right now is a heavy thing (though for many who have much less privilege than I do, this heaviness is not so novel).
A lot of us are desperately seeking any kind of goodness, some flotsam or jetsam to cling to in this tumultuous ocean. And while a little escapism or hedonism can be useful, it’s become especially clear to me lately that the things that give me the biggest lift are aligned with my values.
So I’ve been focusing more than ever on small acts of care and connection. Because while sharing a harvest or returning a container to a farmer won’t move the needle on food security or ecological collapse, these are tiny acts of world-building, tangible actions that allow me to ever-so-briefly live in the kind of world currently only available to my passive-haus-dwelling, freegan Sims alter ego.
We are all co-creating this world, and every day there are opportunities to be kind, to be generous, to be thoughtful, to be responsible. To, to quote an enigmatic neighbourhood sign, “make it better.”
We have to do the hard work of structural change, yes, and of course I still advocate writing letters and donating money and organizing for a better world, but I want to pause to appreciate the immediate, local actions that can be regenerative — to you and the world. Take the time to inject some goodness into your local ecosystems and to relish the small glories therein.
And who could speak to that better than Mary Oliver, the high priestess of small glories?
Don’t Hesitate
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
Here are a few of my recent joys, little glimpses of the world I’d like to see.
Pollinator gardens everywhere: Native gardening is really gaining steam, and I see milkweed springing up all over and whole swaths of native species, often marked by pollinator garden signs. These patchworks of low-maintenance, resilient native plants do wonders for biodiversity. Douglas Tallamy, the founder of Homegrown National Park, estimates that if 1/2 the lawns in America were transitioned to native plantings, there would be 20 million new acres providing habitat and valuable ecosystem services, like absorbing flood waters, storing carbon, and purifying the air. I love this as an example of how little actions, taken together, can be transformative. (If you’re looking to learn more about this in Ontario/the Great Lakes region, the new book Gardening for the Rusty-Patch Bumblebee is for you.)
Shared resources: Like many things, rental car prices have gone through the roof, and since her fam was decamping to BC for six weeks, my friend Sam generously offered us the use of her car. We’ll use it to escape the soup of Toronto summer two or three times. I felt a little choked up getting the keys from her: she wasn’t just loaning me a car and saving me some cash, she was reaffirming the generosity of humans and helping build a trusting, community-oriented world. In a smaller example, I’ve been giving away extra mulberries shaken down daily from my monstrous tree. One woman who took some brought me perfect, luscious cherries from her mother’s tree as a thank you. That act of unasked for reciprocity is worth so much more than their actual retail price.
Prime bike season: Do you know the bliss of cycling as the sun goes down, the air cool on your bare arms? I imagine nothing feels so much like flying as coasting down a hill. It’s a wonderful time of year to hop on your bike and go anywhere at all, to have a carbon-free local adventure.
Jr. gardeners: I invited a five-year-old gardening enthusiast to come over and putter in the yard with me on the weekend, and watching him interact with my beloved space and take such an interest in the natural world made my heart swell. He had worn his gardening gloves all morning in anticipation, and luckily the experience did not disappoint: he rated it 100 out of 10. I concur.
Mutual aid: I help care for my local community fridge and often also do some Bike Brigade deliveries, cycling over groceries to stock it. There are so many ways to contribute to a project like this, whether dropping off food, sitting at a farmers’ market table for an hour to accept donations, doing cleaning and maintenance, or delivering food and other essential products with the Bike Brigade (which is an unrelentingly welcoming and wonderful group of people supporting organizations doing great work in this city). In our too-busy world, regular volunteering can sometimes seem daunting, but in as little as 15 a minutes a week, with no commitment to a regular schedule, you can make this world a little better.
What are some of your recent joyous glimpses of a more just, more sustainable world? Click reply to share the good vibes and visions.
Before I go, a few other things in my book of delights that might be a balm to you in these trying times:
Cultivating Place (podcast): While I am biased toward British gardening content (ILY, Monty!), I’ve found this American podcast extremely calming and nourishing. It’s not a how-to podcast, so isn’t just for those of us with dirty fingernails. The guests are inspiring people transforming this world through engaging with nature, and Jennifer Jewell is a thoughtful host with some Krista Tippett vibes. I’d recommend this warm, wonderful episode with Ross Gay about (a term I obviously love) “structures of care.”
Swimming at every opportunity. Lakes, pools, oceans, rivers, whatever’s available to you, plunge in to enjoy total refreshment. A swim is the perfect reset. (I loved this line in The Unsettlers, a pretty fascinating book: “Anytime you want to jump into a body of water but don’t, you lose part of your life force.” Amen.)
Making garlic scape pesto. Garlic scapes are wildly under-appreciated. I make an improvised version of this pesto without the cheese. It’s quick and easy and doesn’t make much mess. I like it best on sandwiches (esp. grilled cheese!) and in eggs, but also good on pasta, of course, or as a garnish for soups, a topping for hummus, or something to add to sautéed veg. Freeze small jars (or ice cubes) to thaw and use throughout the year.
The Merlin bird ID (app, free!). If you’re even slightly interested in birds, this app is a marvel. It listens to your environment and identifies the calls it hears. As someone with so-so eyesight and non-existent binoc skills, this has broken open birding for me. If you know what you’re hearing, it’s much easier to figure out what to look for. I treat it like my own version of Pokemon GO, collecting birds wherever I go.
The scent of milkweed flowers. They smell like lilacs. Take them in while they’re in bloom right now.
The Art of Frugal Hedonism (book). This Aussie offering is right on theme for this edition of the newsletter, highlighting the ways spending less can lead to a richer, more joyful life. It’s not scolding or didactic, but bright and ebullient and a great reminder of simple joys.
Strawberries, cherries, raspberries. July is a season of abundance, and these are some of the flavours of summer. Consider buying extra and freezing them on a tray, then transferring to a plastic bag or container so you can enjoy that burst of summer when days are shorter.
What’s on your list? Send me the little things giving you comfort and joy. (And if you want more of mine, follow me on IG.)
That’s it for me, at least until I reach out again on a whim. If this thinking out loud was useful to you, let me know — it helps me with my own creative wayfinding. Wishing you many portals into your own better world, many small glories to get you through.
xo
JK
Five Minutes for Planet is written by me, Jen Knoch. Opening photo by Jackson Hendry on Unsplash.