aaaaaand we're back!

(that would be the "royal we"; it's just me.)

Hi, friends, I hope your summers are off to a dreamy start. I haven’t been in Vermont this much for almost a decade, and I’d forgotten how beautiful it is as it sheds its muddy skin. I take nourishing sips of that beauty all day long—the silvery northern sunshine that feels austere even when the days are 16 hours long; show-off sunsets behind layers of ancient mountains; the clouds outside the window next to my desk that come in seemingly infinite varieties of shape and tint. 

The clouds outside my window last Friday at 9:30 p.m.

I miss the luscious heat of Philadelphia, the towering plane trees in the park across the street from my home there, and the people: both my personal beloveds and the strangers of all shapes and sizes and colors I see on the streets, the languages they unintentionally whisper in my ear as they pass. But I’m grateful to have two homes right now, and grateful, too, for all of you—for your support of my writing, and your patience when I’m not.

I recently heard someone use the metaphor “building the plane while flying it,” which struck me as apropos to what I’m doing here: building a newsletter while writing it. It also reminded me of the Agnes de Mille quote from which I took this newsletter’s name:

“Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or how. The moment you know how, you begin to die a little. The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap in the dark.”

When I wrote to you a couple of weeks ago, I was unsure about where to go next, if I should continue with the story I accidentally started telling, of the dissolution of my marriage, or change course and use this space for something else. But I realized I don’t actually have to choose between the two. This plane is gonna be a jumbo jet, with room for all the things.

I’ll keep sending sentences, sometimes in chronological order from where I last left off, sometimes skipping back and forth in time, maybe occasionally about the days I’m living right now. 

I’m also going to send other content: excerpts from the book I’m writing, mini-essays, random thoughts, photos of my dogs. (Just kidding; I won’t bore you with photos of my dogs. Well, I probably won’t. But the artist never entirely knows.) There may be book recommendations, or recipes. Who knows? The sky’s the limit, as aeronautical engineers surely do not say. I don’t want to junk up your inboxes, but I also want to make sure you’re getting your money’s worth. 

(Speaking of which: If you don’t feel like you’re getting your money’s worth, let me know and I will happily convert your paid subscription to a free one.)

Thanks again for your patience; I feel somehow like you’re all holding my hand as I leap.

Kate