Hi Everyone,
The second story I ever learned to tell by heart was called “The Man Wreathed in Seaweed” from the Ligurian coast1. It was the first spring of the pandemic, I was living in Berkeley, and though I was much closer to Tilden Park I’d often drive out to Oakland where I knew the trails better. For years prior, I’d walked the Huckleberry Botanic Preserve on the mornings of new and full moons which we had off from yoga. In 2020 I returned to walk the same trails and told this new tale to the trees, as I did.
It’s been a year of disorientation and mourning, of big structural issues and mad grabs for grounding, of falling back on old ways that don’t work anymore out of utter exhaustion, and of—thank God—renewed commitments to change in the morning. A lot of the buds here in Eastern Pennsylvania are right at their chaotic edges and I’m thinking of the man wreathed in seaweed again. His tale is a classic in that he’s a fool no one trusts who winds up saving the day in the end. And who—as a thanks for saving the king’s daughter from her octopus kidnapper (gotta love coastal stories!)—is thrown overboard while knocked out unconscious after having had too much to drink.
But the sea gods favor misfits or so I tell myself to survive. He makes his way back to shore and—draped in seaweed, clams coming out of his pockets, collarbone studded with barnacles—lets everyone know what he’s been through. It is a deeply Piscean situation and a timely reminder as well that this world is the sea. “Its currents uncertain, its waves deep, its storms fierce. And you must be this fish, that the waves of the world do not swallow you.2”
I don’t have a real Offering today and to be honest I need a break badly. I’m going to take next week off from writing but will be back after with some words and spring classes to share. I’m actually hoping I can figure out how to recover the video I took of myself four years ago now telling “The Man Wreathed in Seaweed” in the Berkeley Hills treehouse and share it with you. I think it’s in a cloud somewhere, and I’ve tried to find it before with no luck so it may just be time to retell it.
Before I go, here is a link to a spreadsheet of families in Palestine who are needing support that a friend shared with me recently. The organizers recommend choosing a family (or more if you’re able) to focus your efforts toward and giving to their GoFundMe however you can, whether it’s sending money or spreading the word to family and friends or on social media. As you know I’ve been thinking lots about mourning this year, and this essay by Abdaljawad Omar, Can the Palestinian Mourn? is required reading, I think.
Thank you so much for being here and for your continued support and care.
Onward,
Jessica