Embracing the mud time

An honest offering

Photo by Joshua J. Cotten on Unsplash

Today we are just emerging from another series of storms in southern California. An exit route from my mountain home is completely blocked by a mudslide. Fortunately, there is one alternative route, which also intermittently closes as the mountainside moves.

These moments don’t bother me much; in fact, it harkens back to my days growing up in Michigan, when snow days were commonplace and we knew we just wouldn’t go out for a spell.

It was part of life—living with weather that could dictate our plans. I’ve missed it, in a way. It’s a little too easy to fall under the illusions of stability and control when most days are 70 degrees and sunny.

Caked with sunscreen on my face and lips, sun shield around my neck—generally trying to avoid getting too much sun. There’s always so much sun.

Personally, life has dished out a very intense six weeks. In addition, the last Hopecology post—excitingly—sparked quite a bit of discussion and I’m still reflecting on those responses.

This week’s post will therefore be a brief update, as I work to bring everything together into a fully baked Hopecology serving for you next time.

After all, if I’m going to extoll the virtues of radical self-compassion, it would be hypocritical for me to not apply it to myself when I need it most. Neither would a half-baked post serve you, the reader.

A very typical scene in which I write on my laptop in the woods with makeup on (just kidding—photo credit Simone Noble)

If you’ve been reading Hopecology for awhile, you know that this space is about anything but forced positivity. (To those of you for whom this is your first post—there are at least a couple dozen of you—WELCOME! ♥️)

I firmly believe in finding the lotus from the mud, the diamond in the rough—when they’re there. And honoring and being honest about when they are not.

Hope can be derived from that honesty, because it is a true foundation.

Sometimes more time in the mud is needed.

Caked in mud, researching California tiger salamanders, sans makeup. Photo credit: Sam Sweet

Yet hope abounds

Quite often, I come across stories that inspire hope, and have been pondering how to best share them with you.

I created the Hopecology Facebook Page for these stories and the discussions around them. I hope you’ll follow along, and please share new stories when you find them.

Over there you will find articles about, for example, a Tasmanian parrot rebound and farmers finding value in restored wetlands.

This week, I found hope in a post by

Julie Gabrielli

, wherein she describes how a school mascot—a diamondback terrapin—anchored her campus community in a time of grief. Even artists’ representations of nature can bring out the best in us.

My dear friend, the social entrepreneur

Lisa McLaughlin

, is about to—once again—revolutionize mental health care, and this time we get a front-row seat on her new Substack,

Every Grain of Sand

.

In future newsletters, I’ll be featuring interviews with folks like Lisa and Julie who are inspiring hope on many fronts. If there is someone you would like to see interviewed, please let me know in the comments or email me: hopecology@gmail.com.

Some tiny beautiful things

Over the weekend I went for a long walk to clear my head, and found my attention drawn to the tiniest things—gifts of all the rain we’ve been having: the very beginnings of the sprouting annuals; mosses; ferns; turkey tail mushrooms; the tiniest wildflowers.

Please enjoy these images, and I look forward to sharing some new ideas with you next time. I hope those of you in the northern hemisphere are finding some space to rest in this second half of winter.

Warmly, Andrea