Behind the Scenes

Behind the Pages? Whatever, here's an update on this thing.

“It’s dark because you are trying too hard.

Lightly, child, lightly.

Learn to do everything lightly.”

~ Aldous Huxley

Olive and I write early in the mornings. The muse can find us better if we share a chair

Hello, all you incredibly sweet people who have supported me and this letter.

(Is this a letter? Post? Article? Essay? Let’s be honest here — I’m blogging like it’s 2004.)

I wanted to take a moment to say thank you for being here, and let you in on what’s been going on behind the pages.

I was touched by how many of you reached out to me about my last missive. It seems many of you felt connected to the phrase that’s been thrumming in my chest for months now — Light in the World. So much so, that I’ve decided that’s the new title for this Substack.

I was honestly worried about using those words, because when I Googled it, it turns out that "Light OF the World" is a Jesus thing, and I didn’t want anyone thinking I was saying I’m Jesus. (Though it’s only a matter of time before someone WILL accuse me of such an absurdity, because: Internet.)

So this is our new tagline around here:

Thoughts on moving lightly through the world — written by a former actor trying to be a present person.

How do we move lightly in the world? It’s about feeling less weighed down by stuff, both physical and emotional. It’s about rejecting overconsumption without undernourishing ourselves. It’s about right-sizing life, so we don’t take up too much space, nor too little, because both are a waste. It’s about nurturing the lightness in our hearts, without getting bogged down by the heaviness of fear and worry.

It’s easy to get enveloped in the darkness; it’s everywhere. But in the small, rebellious ways we seek out lightness, and then share it with others — that’s the magic.

For each of us, it’s different, but for me, it involves giving away 80% of my possessions, focusing on my physical and mental health, and finding meaning in life without diminishing the inherent struggles. And then I get to write about all of that, here, with you.

I see us as the string lights on the cactus: connected and sparkly in a sometimes treacherous landscape.

It’s us

So, in doing a refresh of this Substack, we now have a title, a tagline, and a neato banner for the emails. I also redesigned the homepage for all my posts, and I’m loving the new layout.

As my husband and I settle into our new lives in the Canadian Pacific Northwest, I have shifted and reprioritized what I choose to work on. This is my Year of No, and I’m being more protective of my time and more intentional about where my energy goes.

There are many unanswered questions about this time, but one thing is clear — I feel compelled to spend my time here, writing to you. This kind of work lights me up in all the ways. I get to tap away on my keyboard and send those words out into the ether. And hopefully, those words land with you, but quite honestly, by that point, it’s no longer any of my business.

Writers love to talk about how hard it is to write.

It’s terribly hard, endlessly hard, miserably hard.

Apparently.

Hemingway (or maybe someone else) said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Which sounds very sexy and tragic, but also problematic.

I don’t love this tired trope. It’s like writers feel obligated to hate writing, so that readers take us seriously and legitimize our efforts. I once got very angry at a best-selling book that began with the author complaining for several pages about how horrible writing is. Even the multimillion-dollar advance didn’t soothe the pain, it seems.

It feels as if the only way I can be a “real” writer is by being tortured and miserable and then dying slowly of tuberculosis.

But that just doesn’t work for me. Because writing to me is pure joy. I feel alive when I do it. It’s not always easy; sometimes I wrestle with the words to get them to come out right, and it’s a challenge to get my arms around what I mean. And that’s when I feel the most connected and creative.

This letter is a source of light for me. It’s not some harsh spotlight; rather, it’s ambient, like we can sit together and gaze out towards the flickering lights of a nearby city. So, thank you for being part of that.

Much of the work I share here is free, so if you know someone who might enjoy this sort of thing, please send it along and invite them to move lightly with us.

Oh, and comments are open if you want to say hi. I love hearing from you.

Much love,
~L