This week I mailed out my second newsletter and wanted to take a moment to thank you for sending supportive notes of gratitude in return. This is so unexpected to me! It is not something you have to do, which I suppose makes it all the sweeter. It’s also prompted me to share the inspiration behind this new monthly offering.
About a year ago I signed up for a twice monthly newsletter from someone whose work and walk in this world I greatly admire. It only took one issue for me to notice the care and effort that was put into the publication, one I would have paid money for had it not been free. The time to produce, quality of content, and genuine effort put forth was so apparent. This newsletter stood out among a sea of newsletters in my inbox. I was inspired. Each issue felt like a gift to me, a gift that I wanted to pay forward. And so I thought, why not attempt to create something of similar caliber for my own readers? While my newsletter content is vastly different than the one I am referring to (I do not write about iguana hunting, for instance), I thought the general idea of a truly worthwhile newsletter would be a fun and creative platform to explore. Something that a reader could walk away from with the feeling that care and effort were put forth. In addition, it could serve as a thank you to my readers each month. Anyway, the point of sharing all of that is this: After reading several issues of Daniel's newsletter, I finally reached out to him to express how much I appreciated the content. That it exceeded any expectation one could have for such a publication, and that I was glad to hold a place for it in my inbox. He replied, “Thank you so much for this. You know, I’ve been sending out my newsletter for six years, and you’re the first person to reach out and tell me that you like it.”
What!?! I couldn’t believe it. Still can’t. So please know that I’m sincere when I say how grateful I am for your notes. They are not expected, yet deeply appreciated.
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While writing January’s newsletter, I happened to look up from the keyboard at the exact moment a coyote decided to walk through our backyard. I’d guess he weighed about 65-70 pounds and moved with the same easy trot one would expect from a dog heading through a neighborhood with no particular place to be. A casual energy in his step. So different from the swift, graceful sprint of a deer, the slow lumber of a moose, or the elegant jiggle of a bear. Not sure why I’d expect a coyote’s movement to resemble that of another species – and I don’t, really – but you notice these things. With only some glass and about 30 feet between us, I watched for as long as he was willing to be seen, which was for only thirty seconds or so, then he slipped though the opening in the stonewall and disappeared into the trees.
Next, the bloody blue super full moon… eclipsed, even. If ever there was a moment for the moon to say, “Hey, look what I can do,” this was it. But the moon does not seek accolades. Her light shone so brightly as it reflected off the snowy woods, like a blue-lit sunny afternoon. And finally, the poignant halfway mark between winter and spring. The warm sun nudging her way in with more intention now. What a week of appreciation and surrender it’s been.