So nice to see you writing again my lovely. We’ve all missed your amazing and wonderful work, always so wise and inspiring, beautiful and thoughtful. I adore you 💕💕💕
Thanks for sharing the song you and your dear grandmother used to sing together. It evoked a feeling of nostalgia in me for the past summer--and for all past summers, really, when I've felt warm and happy. It's an emotion I have trouble feeling for the rapid change of fall into winter, but I've been trying my best recently to accept change. It's inevitable, and your grandmother was wise to know this so well.
Nadia, your writing is exactly what I need at this juncture in my life, after a long dark season when I feel like my patience and resolve has reached its limit and I'm running on fumes hoping that there's a gas station around the next turn. Your relationship with your grandmother (love the song(s), life philosophy, expression about 'hands') reminds me alot of my step dad who passed away in 2010. He was a contractor, built my childhood home, and was overall a very humble and hard working person. I try to live up to the example he set, even though I know I won't even come close.
This is beautiful, Nadia, and very moving. It sounds like you and your grandmother had such a wonderful connection. I'm sorry for your loss and I hope that over time it's possible to move closer and closer to closure. I feel like I've felt / feel shades of that with the passing of two of my grandparents -- my grandfather died very suddenly, and so a goodbye was not really possible, but then my grandmother died a few years back and, with the pandemic and having an infant (and full-time job, etc.), I couldn't make it back to Michigan for the funeral. And that still gnaws at me sometimes, not having the time and space I'd have liked to say goodbye. It's a heavy thing to carry, but I don't know if it'll go away, nor am I sure that it should. I think if you boil it all down, it's just love driving it all, driving all of us.
Happy to see you back it. What a wonderful return. As the thoughts of weather change up here, I will think of you and your grandmother when I'm layering on the warmth. Thank you for sharing.
This reminds me of a passage in The Hagakure, which is a book of samurai philosophy. The writer, a samurai himself, mentions something called The Spirit of The Age. Basically, you make the best of each stage of your life - trying to recapture the essence of former times is as doomed an unsatisfying as trying to second guess the future. Its not exactly the same as what you've written here, but it reminded me of it. :o) I hope all is well, my friend.
“Treat your body like there’s never going to be another vessel for your soul.” That’s so beautifully put, Nadia. I’m always in awe of how intimate and vulnerable your pieces feel.
My condolences on your grandmother’s passing. My own grandmother died shortly before I started my newsletter, and though we weren’t very close, I still missed her a lot.
In any case, I’m glad to see you publishing consistently again. Looking forward to your next letters!
Alot of sage wisdom from your grandmother and you Nadia; those walks into whatever season with 'that' coat or 'this' shoe. Someone beside you a walkin.
Am a bit(?) older and still learning this 'accept this' or 'be grateful for that'. Being comfortable, comforted seems a clue. Someone alongside of us with an extra hat or glove they pull out. It's covering us.
Good to see you’re back and with a wonderful personal piece brimming with wisdom. As to the bad weather, I can only agree, unless we are talking extreme weather, best stay in then . We do well to remember the ones we lost, celebrate the time we were given together and keep them alive in our memory. And when we are faced with our imperfections we best “forgive easily and forget even faster” because life is too short.
Dear Nadia, it really seems as though the fierce wisdom that ran through your grandmothers veins runs through yours, too. I love that you spoke to the fact that not all wisdom fits every body, and that blessings are available almost everywhere - even in our inacceptance of things.
How wonderful that you’ve been able to marvel at praying mantis and vultures! I find your gentle resilience most inspiring, and I so appreciate you sharing the wisdom from your lineage. 💗
I was born in September and historically have felt a deep melancholy as I walk outside and can feel a darkened hush in early evening, a crisper breeze, like an oncoming curtain. But I also appreciate it so much. A family of crickets tends to become symphonic in my apartment each September. It's when I most get out in the woods. I appreciate the reflection, and that blending where one season mingles with the next.
Your grandmother sounds like she was a wonderful person, imparting such wisdom.
"there is no bad weather, just bad clothing." This is perfectly astute. I must try and remember this when I am annoyed at the cold or sudden change of the weather from sunshine to rain.
A beautiful post, Nadia. It's so great to have you back and posting and writing and reading. Sounds like it's been a bit of rough time, but I hope the transition into fall brings with it something positive. The shifting of the seasons is often on my mind lately, even more so when I read about the change in the northern hemisphere as we transition to spring down here.
So nice to see you writing again my lovely. We’ve all missed your amazing and wonderful work, always so wise and inspiring, beautiful and thoughtful. I adore you 💕💕💕
Thanks for sharing the song you and your dear grandmother used to sing together. It evoked a feeling of nostalgia in me for the past summer--and for all past summers, really, when I've felt warm and happy. It's an emotion I have trouble feeling for the rapid change of fall into winter, but I've been trying my best recently to accept change. It's inevitable, and your grandmother was wise to know this so well.
Nadia, your writing is exactly what I need at this juncture in my life, after a long dark season when I feel like my patience and resolve has reached its limit and I'm running on fumes hoping that there's a gas station around the next turn. Your relationship with your grandmother (love the song(s), life philosophy, expression about 'hands') reminds me alot of my step dad who passed away in 2010. He was a contractor, built my childhood home, and was overall a very humble and hard working person. I try to live up to the example he set, even though I know I won't even come close.
The inner seasons, so beautifully articulated and felt here. Thank you for sharing yours. ❤️
This is beautiful, Nadia, and very moving. It sounds like you and your grandmother had such a wonderful connection. I'm sorry for your loss and I hope that over time it's possible to move closer and closer to closure. I feel like I've felt / feel shades of that with the passing of two of my grandparents -- my grandfather died very suddenly, and so a goodbye was not really possible, but then my grandmother died a few years back and, with the pandemic and having an infant (and full-time job, etc.), I couldn't make it back to Michigan for the funeral. And that still gnaws at me sometimes, not having the time and space I'd have liked to say goodbye. It's a heavy thing to carry, but I don't know if it'll go away, nor am I sure that it should. I think if you boil it all down, it's just love driving it all, driving all of us.
Happy to see you back it. What a wonderful return. As the thoughts of weather change up here, I will think of you and your grandmother when I'm layering on the warmth. Thank you for sharing.
This reminds me of a passage in The Hagakure, which is a book of samurai philosophy. The writer, a samurai himself, mentions something called The Spirit of The Age. Basically, you make the best of each stage of your life - trying to recapture the essence of former times is as doomed an unsatisfying as trying to second guess the future. Its not exactly the same as what you've written here, but it reminded me of it. :o) I hope all is well, my friend.
“Treat your body like there’s never going to be another vessel for your soul.” That’s so beautifully put, Nadia. I’m always in awe of how intimate and vulnerable your pieces feel.
My condolences on your grandmother’s passing. My own grandmother died shortly before I started my newsletter, and though we weren’t very close, I still missed her a lot.
In any case, I’m glad to see you publishing consistently again. Looking forward to your next letters!
Alot of sage wisdom from your grandmother and you Nadia; those walks into whatever season with 'that' coat or 'this' shoe. Someone beside you a walkin.
Am a bit(?) older and still learning this 'accept this' or 'be grateful for that'. Being comfortable, comforted seems a clue. Someone alongside of us with an extra hat or glove they pull out. It's covering us.
ps: liking the Russian quotes.
Good to see you’re back and with a wonderful personal piece brimming with wisdom. As to the bad weather, I can only agree, unless we are talking extreme weather, best stay in then . We do well to remember the ones we lost, celebrate the time we were given together and keep them alive in our memory. And when we are faced with our imperfections we best “forgive easily and forget even faster” because life is too short.
What a return, my dear... Delighted to have our hope back. Unspeakably beautiful post (even the vultures - birds' gotta eat, right?) 🤣⭐💛
Dear Nadia, it really seems as though the fierce wisdom that ran through your grandmothers veins runs through yours, too. I love that you spoke to the fact that not all wisdom fits every body, and that blessings are available almost everywhere - even in our inacceptance of things.
How wonderful that you’ve been able to marvel at praying mantis and vultures! I find your gentle resilience most inspiring, and I so appreciate you sharing the wisdom from your lineage. 💗
Love your words and soul Nadia
I was born in September and historically have felt a deep melancholy as I walk outside and can feel a darkened hush in early evening, a crisper breeze, like an oncoming curtain. But I also appreciate it so much. A family of crickets tends to become symphonic in my apartment each September. It's when I most get out in the woods. I appreciate the reflection, and that blending where one season mingles with the next.
Your grandmother was a wonderful creature. Thanks you so much for sharing all that and the song was haunting. Nice to feel the energy in your writing.
Your grandmother sounds like she was a wonderful person, imparting such wisdom.
"there is no bad weather, just bad clothing." This is perfectly astute. I must try and remember this when I am annoyed at the cold or sudden change of the weather from sunshine to rain.
A beautiful post, Nadia. It's so great to have you back and posting and writing and reading. Sounds like it's been a bit of rough time, but I hope the transition into fall brings with it something positive. The shifting of the seasons is often on my mind lately, even more so when I read about the change in the northern hemisphere as we transition to spring down here.