A Favor and A Gift
I have a favor to ask.
Can you think of one woman who needs my help?
Just one.
You know what I'm about. You read the newsletter because you think I'm pretty good at this, or insightful, or at least comfortingly humorous. And I am offering free 30 minute introductory sessions to anyone who needs them right now.
I'm inviting you to forward this link to one woman who might be feeling alone, or overwhelmed, or totally-badass-but-ready-to-throw-every-resource-at-her-dreams.
The under-fulfilled over-achievers in the world.
Or, someone you just want to let know you're thinking of them, and support them.
I promise I will show up for them with my maximum caring, loving, and focused attention. Make it your gift to them. (Or yourself.)
I also have a gift for you.
Instead reading my inner monologue today, please read this piece in the Paris Review: Fuck the Bread. The Bread is Over. It's a poetic reflection on what it means to be "worth something" and "earning a living".
"The new world order is rearranging itself on the planet and settling in. Our touchstone is changing color. Our criteria for earning a life, a living, is mutating like a virus that wants badly to stay alive. I text a friend, “I can’t find bread flour.” She lives in Iowa. “I can see the wheat,” she says, “growing in the field from outside my window.” I watch a video on how to harvest wheat. I can’t believe I have no machete. I can’t believe I spent so many hours begging universities to hire me, I forgot to learn how to separate the chaff from the wheat and gently grind."
Take care of yourself this weekend. You have my permission to do whatever you want.
Yours in a life we shan't take too seriously,