"What if you are the story—not the author, but the sentence, the breath between lines? What if the most radical thing you can do is stop needing to be known, and start becoming part of what is knowing?" Ahhh...yes. Beautiful pairing with yesterday's experience of being 1 of 11 million breaths crying "WE THE PEOPLE." Total anonymity. Ultimate power. Essential reconnection to what matters. Love you and love your exquisite expression.
Gosh, this hadn't even occurred to me Gail until you pointed it out! How serendipitous that I posted this essay on the day after NO KINGS day—a perfect antidote to the "me me me" mongering of that little man's parade. Millions of breaths joining together in total anonymity, a power that will continue to rise.
well i take up the advice you give your Mom here "surround yourself with something that makes you feel awe" each time i read these pieces. they are remarkable as are you xo
I can take no credit for those words "surround yourself with something that makes you feel awe". Those are from "the world" but channeled through the woman behind the The World Is Writing project. It's been lovely to hear my mom's delight each time one arrives in her mailbox. I have no idea what they'll say but each time, they land perfectly. I asked my mom what they evoke in her when she reads them, and her response: "I feel loved by life." (All that to say, I'm glad in some way these jumbled word salads of mine also surround you in awe. Thank you.)
This is just such beautiful alchemy, Kimberly. What a wonderful gift to relax into anonymity as I read and hear words of the field, from the forest, unbound and communal. These words, “I wanted to feel how adoration rises beneath my feet, from filaments that root one self into the loam of a thousand others.” Wow. So often I feel like words fail me, but actually, perhaps, it is that I fail the words, and what I need to do is let my ‘longing settle into the unwritten’. Thank you for this transcendent series. Much love xx
Yes yes yes! I love how you just phased this Emily. "So often I feel like words fail me, but actually, perhaps, it is that I fail the words." Settling ourselves and all that chatter into the unwritten is such a fertile place. And you, with your many outlets of creativity, I imagine the unwritten finally gets to express itself in infinite texture, color and form. Much love to you dear friend!
Thank you Carissa. Isn't that poem wonderful? I love how it starts, "I want to disappear" - - feels abrupt, almost scary. But then melts us into a different, more ecstatic kind of disappearing. :)
This reminds me of the joy I find in the anonymity of travelling, especially in a different country. As you say it's a retrieval of self, or many selves perhaps. Perhaps the free, natural, curious child self 🤔 And an absolute relief for me to not be known, to not be seen by anyone I might know, to drop the 'act', to shake off conditioning, to stop worrying what people think of me, to not care, to dare a little, to walk confidently (great way to feel safe as a solo woman too), and to look curiously... And I suppose in doing all that, I become part of this 'travelling hum' - people coming and going, and feeling part of that collective doing and being without being known. 😄
You're so right. Traveling is a wonderful way to melt into the murmuration. You just reminded me of a time my dad decided to rent a Buddhist monk costume while traveling in California. He walked around all day in that costume—his handsome 6'6" figure robed and humbled—I wonder if he felt a freedom in this exercise. Or maybe it drew even more attention to him!
Melting into the murmuration... Hmmm I like that 👌
I love this story about your dad! Sounds very freeing, and perhaps more attention in that way felt fun? Also my mind just went to - not as attention grabbing as billowing around in robes like Severus Snape 🤣
I am sitting here tearing up. This is the awe in my day. the permission to dissolve from the self into the collective. This is a beautiful piece. thank you for writing it. This morning I had one of my 'episodes' - the dissociation that overwhelms me, that takes me from myself and the world. It holds me apart, sometimes for a breath, sometimes longer. It's hard. But this offers me an entirely different perspective from which to consider this anonymity from the self. And for that I can't thank you enough.
Gosh Evelyn. Your comment stopped my breath. Rewind. Reread. Then—recognition. What a reframe on dissociation! While this hadn't occurred to me, you've just opened up a new way of seeing. It makes me think of the shamans who often have dissociative tendencies but in their culture, this is seen as a gift, an opportunity to shed the self and join the selves. An opening to receive messages from "the world." I so appreciate your vulnerable sharing. I love it when something that is so often perceived as "bad" or "something to fix" is turned on its head. Hmmmm... maybe I need to do an In Defense of Dissociating? :)
As i embark on my healing journey it seems that so much of it is just learning to see things differently. Michael has a note on his whiteboard that says, ‘whatever happens to you, happens for you,’ and i try to use that as a tool to reframe difficult experiences.
Oh yes! I would greatly interested in that, I love the way you bring new meaning and perspective to things in your writing. It’s so authentic and enjoyable to engage with!
In a world where 'everybody wants to be a somebody' (apparently), I resonated deeply with anonymity. Always have done. Anonymity is like the magical invisibility cloak. You can disappear from view and be free to be ... the world... or in another world altogether.
I also love the 'murmuration of bodies'... which makes me think of a murmuration of voices ~ writer's voices ~ the World's writing voice.
Ooooooh. Wait, there's something there Veronika: a murmuration of writer's voices. Hmmmmm. I see a new Substack collaboration emerging from this. Often I'm surprised by overlapping themes-of-the-week with other writers. I know you and I have had this, as if our synapses are entangled and chewing on the same material from different angles. Just this week I felt that between my essay, Rebecca Hooper's and Emily Charlotte Powells. Wouldn't it be fun to do a divination of sorts, where random words from disparate essays are strung together to create something new? Just brainstorming, but there's something here.... :)
I can't claim credit on that note. :) I should've been more clear—The World is Writing actually lets you "commission the world" to send a series of letters to someone you love. I purchase four to send over a few months to my mom. I never know what they'll say, but it's been so fun to hear her delight each time one arrives. It's a truly original and inspiring project, created by an extraordinary human. (Though she chooses to remain anonymous.:)
Thank you Allegra. Isn't it a wonderful project? Whenever I need to send someone something extra special, I'll be returning to The World is Writing. :)
Yes, I love not having any sort of fame or celebrity. Seriously. I honestly think that would suck, considering all the stories I hear about the famous, and all the crap that comes with that. Why do people try so hard for fame and glory?
When I finished reading, deep in thought, scrolling down, I saw Jonathan Foster’s one word . Just the other day, I sent a poem to my very dear friend. Her mom had passed years before. But they were both too young, not enough time, never enough time. I did not go looking for the perfect poem to offer comfort. In fact, I had no intention of offering written comfort from a stranger, from anonymous. But the poem found me. Like all forms of love, it came from a wing and a prayer. So I sent it. My mom signed every note she had written to me , all love letters; on a card, a napkin, paper plate, written in the sand , with flower pedals, across a window of glass , with a
♥️
Signed , anonymous? Hardly. On Mother’s Day, I sat on the grass ,as I have many times before, carefully untying the corded string of the rose colored velvet bag , I kept whatever could fit into this soft enclosure, her ♥️s.
“ where love no longer wears a name but returns to what it has always been…”
I reached my arms up towards the sky, sending out a hug, with Jonathan’s one word, Embrace. What I can no longer physically touch. Because now, she is a part of everything, anonymously and everywhere.
Oh Lor, picturing you with that velvet bag full of love and treasure. How precious that you have this, can hold it and also release its message into the sky, knowing those arms, now in infinite form, are reaching right back to you. So beautiful. I bet your mom was a remarkable woman, like someone else I know.
Thank you, she was. Interesting how some of us, me included, never looked passed the ‘mom role’ when we were growing up, to see who she was besides a mom. What were her loves besides her family. Maybe she liked it that way, anonymity. Throughout the years since she has passed, I have those wishes; wished I could have ask her about…
Good lesson to pay it back , or forward whichever the case may be. Ask while you are still able.
OMG, Kim! All of this!! Resonates, ripples, reminds, re-enchants! I so enjoy the way you turn ideas over and over like a seashell or a river stone, circling and discovering always more. This: ‘Why isn’t the world more snarky or more upset with us humans? How is it so relentlessly LOVING?’ is something I’ve often wondered. It’s utterly true and so counter to our (my) cultural conditioning. I could gush on. 🥰🥳🍓
Yes! I love how the creator of The World Is Writing phrased that. :) I had the fortune to meet her and ask her a few questions about the project and it's been fun to learn about the loving heart behind the anonymity. The natural world is indeed relentlessly loving and giving. Like a patient mother, maybe she knows someday, hopefully not too late, we'll grow up and reciprocate.
"What if you are the story—not the author, but the sentence, the breath between lines? What if the most radical thing you can do is stop needing to be known, and start becoming part of what is knowing?" Ahhh...yes. Beautiful pairing with yesterday's experience of being 1 of 11 million breaths crying "WE THE PEOPLE." Total anonymity. Ultimate power. Essential reconnection to what matters. Love you and love your exquisite expression.
Gosh, this hadn't even occurred to me Gail until you pointed it out! How serendipitous that I posted this essay on the day after NO KINGS day—a perfect antidote to the "me me me" mongering of that little man's parade. Millions of breaths joining together in total anonymity, a power that will continue to rise.
well i take up the advice you give your Mom here "surround yourself with something that makes you feel awe" each time i read these pieces. they are remarkable as are you xo
I can take no credit for those words "surround yourself with something that makes you feel awe". Those are from "the world" but channeled through the woman behind the The World Is Writing project. It's been lovely to hear my mom's delight each time one arrives in her mailbox. I have no idea what they'll say but each time, they land perfectly. I asked my mom what they evoke in her when she reads them, and her response: "I feel loved by life." (All that to say, I'm glad in some way these jumbled word salads of mine also surround you in awe. Thank you.)
I'm just going to say what Nelly B said above :) Love it, such a warm embrace. Lovely Kimberly, thanks.
I like that my essays can feel like a hug. :) Thanks Jonathan.
Beautiful. All of it. Just beautiful. I so appreciate you writing and sharing it 🙏
I appreciate you for joining me here and pausing to take it in!
This is just such beautiful alchemy, Kimberly. What a wonderful gift to relax into anonymity as I read and hear words of the field, from the forest, unbound and communal. These words, “I wanted to feel how adoration rises beneath my feet, from filaments that root one self into the loam of a thousand others.” Wow. So often I feel like words fail me, but actually, perhaps, it is that I fail the words, and what I need to do is let my ‘longing settle into the unwritten’. Thank you for this transcendent series. Much love xx
Yes yes yes! I love how you just phased this Emily. "So often I feel like words fail me, but actually, perhaps, it is that I fail the words." Settling ourselves and all that chatter into the unwritten is such a fertile place. And you, with your many outlets of creativity, I imagine the unwritten finally gets to express itself in infinite texture, color and form. Much love to you dear friend!
Wow. Another breathtaking piece. A letter from the world— brilliant. The anonymity poem— how did the poet know how I’ve been feeling lately?
Thank you Carissa. Isn't that poem wonderful? I love how it starts, "I want to disappear" - - feels abrupt, almost scary. But then melts us into a different, more ecstatic kind of disappearing. :)
This reminds me of the joy I find in the anonymity of travelling, especially in a different country. As you say it's a retrieval of self, or many selves perhaps. Perhaps the free, natural, curious child self 🤔 And an absolute relief for me to not be known, to not be seen by anyone I might know, to drop the 'act', to shake off conditioning, to stop worrying what people think of me, to not care, to dare a little, to walk confidently (great way to feel safe as a solo woman too), and to look curiously... And I suppose in doing all that, I become part of this 'travelling hum' - people coming and going, and feeling part of that collective doing and being without being known. 😄
You're so right. Traveling is a wonderful way to melt into the murmuration. You just reminded me of a time my dad decided to rent a Buddhist monk costume while traveling in California. He walked around all day in that costume—his handsome 6'6" figure robed and humbled—I wonder if he felt a freedom in this exercise. Or maybe it drew even more attention to him!
Melting into the murmuration... Hmmm I like that 👌
I love this story about your dad! Sounds very freeing, and perhaps more attention in that way felt fun? Also my mind just went to - not as attention grabbing as billowing around in robes like Severus Snape 🤣
I am sitting here tearing up. This is the awe in my day. the permission to dissolve from the self into the collective. This is a beautiful piece. thank you for writing it. This morning I had one of my 'episodes' - the dissociation that overwhelms me, that takes me from myself and the world. It holds me apart, sometimes for a breath, sometimes longer. It's hard. But this offers me an entirely different perspective from which to consider this anonymity from the self. And for that I can't thank you enough.
Gosh Evelyn. Your comment stopped my breath. Rewind. Reread. Then—recognition. What a reframe on dissociation! While this hadn't occurred to me, you've just opened up a new way of seeing. It makes me think of the shamans who often have dissociative tendencies but in their culture, this is seen as a gift, an opportunity to shed the self and join the selves. An opening to receive messages from "the world." I so appreciate your vulnerable sharing. I love it when something that is so often perceived as "bad" or "something to fix" is turned on its head. Hmmmm... maybe I need to do an In Defense of Dissociating? :)
As i embark on my healing journey it seems that so much of it is just learning to see things differently. Michael has a note on his whiteboard that says, ‘whatever happens to you, happens for you,’ and i try to use that as a tool to reframe difficult experiences.
Oh yes! I would greatly interested in that, I love the way you bring new meaning and perspective to things in your writing. It’s so authentic and enjoyable to engage with!
Beautiful. Your writing astonishes me.
Gosh, I feel so held by your generous presence. Thank you,
The World is Writing — what a lovely idea.
In a world where 'everybody wants to be a somebody' (apparently), I resonated deeply with anonymity. Always have done. Anonymity is like the magical invisibility cloak. You can disappear from view and be free to be ... the world... or in another world altogether.
I also love the 'murmuration of bodies'... which makes me think of a murmuration of voices ~ writer's voices ~ the World's writing voice.
And that letter from The World! 💙 🌍
Ooooooh. Wait, there's something there Veronika: a murmuration of writer's voices. Hmmmmm. I see a new Substack collaboration emerging from this. Often I'm surprised by overlapping themes-of-the-week with other writers. I know you and I have had this, as if our synapses are entangled and chewing on the same material from different angles. Just this week I felt that between my essay, Rebecca Hooper's and Emily Charlotte Powells. Wouldn't it be fun to do a divination of sorts, where random words from disparate essays are strung together to create something new? Just brainstorming, but there's something here.... :)
The concept of writing letters from the world is rich with Spirit.
The note you wrote is inspiring to me.. thank you.
You, dear Kimberly, are a beacon across the dark sea of strangers. You invite people to play alongside you in your tenacious joy. 💞 thank you
I can't claim credit on that note. :) I should've been more clear—The World is Writing actually lets you "commission the world" to send a series of letters to someone you love. I purchase four to send over a few months to my mom. I never know what they'll say, but it's been so fun to hear her delight each time one arrives. It's a truly original and inspiring project, created by an extraordinary human. (Though she chooses to remain anonymous.:)
Kimberly, I love your writing. The idea of love letters from the world is beautiful, and so is the way you describe the beauty of anonymity.
Thank you Allegra. Isn't it a wonderful project? Whenever I need to send someone something extra special, I'll be returning to The World is Writing. :)
it really is
Yes, I love not having any sort of fame or celebrity. Seriously. I honestly think that would suck, considering all the stories I hear about the famous, and all the crap that comes with that. Why do people try so hard for fame and glory?
It does seem like a strange kind of prison. Enjoy the freedom J.E. !
What a beautiful piece of writing! Thank you 🙏
Thank you for being here Angela!
When I finished reading, deep in thought, scrolling down, I saw Jonathan Foster’s one word . Just the other day, I sent a poem to my very dear friend. Her mom had passed years before. But they were both too young, not enough time, never enough time. I did not go looking for the perfect poem to offer comfort. In fact, I had no intention of offering written comfort from a stranger, from anonymous. But the poem found me. Like all forms of love, it came from a wing and a prayer. So I sent it. My mom signed every note she had written to me , all love letters; on a card, a napkin, paper plate, written in the sand , with flower pedals, across a window of glass , with a
♥️
Signed , anonymous? Hardly. On Mother’s Day, I sat on the grass ,as I have many times before, carefully untying the corded string of the rose colored velvet bag , I kept whatever could fit into this soft enclosure, her ♥️s.
“ where love no longer wears a name but returns to what it has always been…”
I reached my arms up towards the sky, sending out a hug, with Jonathan’s one word, Embrace. What I can no longer physically touch. Because now, she is a part of everything, anonymously and everywhere.
a part of me.
You were right, I do love this, Kimberly.
Exquisite.
Oh Lor, picturing you with that velvet bag full of love and treasure. How precious that you have this, can hold it and also release its message into the sky, knowing those arms, now in infinite form, are reaching right back to you. So beautiful. I bet your mom was a remarkable woman, like someone else I know.
Thank you, she was. Interesting how some of us, me included, never looked passed the ‘mom role’ when we were growing up, to see who she was besides a mom. What were her loves besides her family. Maybe she liked it that way, anonymity. Throughout the years since she has passed, I have those wishes; wished I could have ask her about…
Good lesson to pay it back , or forward whichever the case may be. Ask while you are still able.
OMG, Kim! All of this!! Resonates, ripples, reminds, re-enchants! I so enjoy the way you turn ideas over and over like a seashell or a river stone, circling and discovering always more. This: ‘Why isn’t the world more snarky or more upset with us humans? How is it so relentlessly LOVING?’ is something I’ve often wondered. It’s utterly true and so counter to our (my) cultural conditioning. I could gush on. 🥰🥳🍓
Yes! I love how the creator of The World Is Writing phrased that. :) I had the fortune to meet her and ask her a few questions about the project and it's been fun to learn about the loving heart behind the anonymity. The natural world is indeed relentlessly loving and giving. Like a patient mother, maybe she knows someday, hopefully not too late, we'll grow up and reciprocate.
She sees it's already happened, even if we don't.