Emily Dickinson called her Amherst home “The Homestead.” I lovingly call my apartment in St. Louis the same thing (although I definitely get out more than Dickinson). This monthly newsletter is my attempt to work through what it feels like to put down roots as a writer in my own Homestead.
Dispatch from my Autumn of Rest 🍂
Resting. It’s happening.
In my last newsletter, I said that I’m treating this season as an Autumn of Rest, a real break from the busyness I’ve soaked in for the past several months. So far, I’m holding myself to that commitment— staying in more often, working less, taking more naps, and allowing myself to say “no.”
I knew I was doing it right when I started getting bored. That’s where the real rest kicks in. When you’re bored, the ideas come to you. Sometimes, the enthusiasm for small things comes to you, too, like remembering to check up on people you haven’t heard from in a while or to dig up the ground to plant your spring bulbs.
Year after year, I kick myself for not putting in flower bulbs before the first hard freeze. It’s the easiest gardening on the planet; the only ingredients are advance planning and waiting. This year, my Autumn of Rest made space to get this done. I kept the species simple: crocuses, daffodils, and hyacinths. All early bloomers.
I cut it down to the wire before the first hard(ish) freeze (like 10 hours in advance!), but these flower babies are in the ground and will hopefully pop up beautifully come spring. Doing this task was a small thing, but it wouldn’t have happened were I not in a space of ease.
The restfulness of this autumn has got me thinking about other ways I can make space for ease through the winter. When I genuinely posed the question to myself about what to eliminate, I was surprised by my gut answer: Christmas.
Not, like, all of Christmas. Honestly, I only mean leaving my artificial tree in the basement and skipping sending Christmas cards. I’m still going to all the parties (duh!) and traveling to Georgia, but I’ll leave my decorations boxed up this year. This may sound crazy, but I want my apartment and its messy charm to stay the same all winter long. I don’t want to hoof it to get my tree upstairs. I love sending cards, but I’ll skip the stress this time around.
I was shocked at the relief I felt when I made this decision. Sort-of skip Christmas? Whew. Yes, please.
It’s not the wildest idea, I figure, especially for a freelancer. December through February are my toughest months. There’s less demand for the work I do, and tax season is right around the corner—add to that the consumerist stress of this season and you’ve got a perfect storm of financial anxiety.
I suppose, too, this is my way of privately dealing with the wars overseas. A dimmer Christmas season helps me stay mindful of all that I cannot control, all I cannot understand.
Maybe this sounds ridiculous to you, but it makes (some) sense to me.
Some thoughts on volunteering…
After three years, I’m finally winding down my volunteering as a clinic escort at Planned Parenthood. In August 2020 when I first started, I was desperate for a reason to get out of the house—this volunteering gig was a saving grace. For the first year, I was alone in the parking lot every Friday morning, helping cars get past the protestors and alternatively trying to stay warm or cool. Occasionally, other volunteers joined, but most days I was out there by myself, queen of the pavement kingdom.
In those three years, I learned a lot about the tactics of anti-abortion protestors, including their zealous distrust of nuance. I was out in the parking lot on the morning that Roe was overturned—when the news notification hit, I watched the protestors bust out into happy tears. It was a hot day; I remember standing in the heat for two extra hours, nervous that incoming patients might’ve heard the news on the radio and worried their appointments would be cancelled. I wanted to be there just in case.
I’ve also learned about the ecosystem of a Planned Parenthood and how it fits into the larger system of reproductive healthcare in our country. I’ve watched how overscheduled the clinic is, trying so hard to fit in everyone who needs care. I’ve come to understand how little can be done about the protestors—so long as they do not trespass or commit consumer fraud (and boy do they frequently come close), they are protected under the First Amendment to protest and give out their information. When people tell me, “There should be laws against this!” I reply that there are some; mostly, though, they are protected as protestors. Also, the police would only become irritated if we called them every time protestors blocked the driveway.
The past three years have taught me that volunteering is an important part of my life, bigger than I realized. I grew up in a church that emphasized “serving”—to the point where it was clearly a free labor scheme. However, the church never really emphasized volunteering in the community. Isn’t that strange? Save for a yearly Thanksgiving meal packed up by the church, I don’t remember the church encouraging us to get out into the community and take care of people. (Maybe I’m wrong? I hope I’m wrong. Do I sound grumpy? A little resentful? It’s because I am.)
Nowadays, I’m focusing my volunteer efforts on taking calls for the St. Louis Queer Support Helpline and working the Right By You textline. At Planned Parenthood, I learned how to just be a welcoming face to weary travelers; with these new outlets, I’m learning about the true nexus of resources in my region (emergency housing, shelters for mothers and children, gender-affirming medical care and logistics, emotional support, affordable counseling, the logistics of making an abortion appointment at various gestational ages, funding abortion care, accessing emergency contraception…). I love being helpful—volunteering in a more resource-gathering space has taught be how to be truly helpful.
Anyway, I suppose this is me saying, “Volunteering is nice! Please try it!”
But it’s also me saying this caveat: There is no way I would have the capacity to volunteer each week if it were not for the fact that I walked away from a high pressure job, have no children (except my precious angel baby, Midge), have no live-in partner, and have no chronic health conditions. Volunteering is a privilege, not a mandate.
What I’m reading this month…
Kitchen Table Tarot by Melissa Cynova. I’m trying to get better at reading Tarot. I bought a basic Smith-Waite deck a year ago and found I really liked messing around with it. I’m taking myself more seriously now—this book is a conversational, easy introduction to the Major and Minor Arcana and their meanings. This is probably the most approachable Tarot book I’ve ever read.
As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980 by Susan Sontag. I re-read this book all the time. It’s so easy to pick up and dip into. The book truly is a reproduction of Sontag’s scribblings—sometimes there’s a life detail or a meaningful reflection, but mostly it’s just playlists and movies she plans to watch.
How I made money this month $$$
I believe freelance artists should be more upfront about how they support themselves financially, rather than maintaining the illusion that they are fully supported by their art (they usually aren’t). This is me attempting to live out that principle. So, here are all the ways I brought in money to the Homestead for the month of October.
Teaching artist work for Prison Performing Arts. Teaching a weekly writing workshop and teaching Spoken Word regularly in a men’s prison.
Play commission fee for Gatsby of a Thousand Faces, coming to Missouri Eastern Correctional Center in Spring/Summer 2024.
Playing piano for a local Catholic middle school’s chapel service. I’m learning to play a lot of gospel tunes and Mass music.
Facilitating online graduate literature courses. Every day I’m grading, grading, grading.
Paid Substack subscriptions. Thank you to all of my paid subscribers. It means the world to me that you make a financial contribution to my work.
Happy All Hallows Eve from this bottle of Diet Coke. 🥤
Happy Halloween! Midge and I will be staying in tonight with my (our) partner, eating caramel apples and watching Practical Magic. The veil is thin; be mindful of spirits, friends.
Tonight starts a new month.
Yours,
Courtney, Mistress of the Homestead, and Noble Midge the Cat 🐈⬛