Volume 4, No. 34: Things I Love

A small(ish) collection of earthly beauty

Hi, bookish friends. It’s me again. Yes, this newsletter is monthly now, but I wanted to do something sweet for myself and for you today, so—surprise!—here I am. It’s election day in the U.S. and that is out of my control, but this newsletter is not.

Before we get into it: a big, teary thank you to the folks who’ve purchased books from my 40 Before 40 wishlist. It feels weird to say: “Hey! Here are some books I want to read! Maybe you want to give them to me?” I’m so moved by the generosity of the readers of this newsletter. I’m so excited to share more about this reading project in the coming months!

Last week my friend

Rosamond

asked a question on Instagram: What are you doing to take care of yourself and others? It’s a simple question, a messy question, an important question, maybe the main question. As I tumbled through my work day on Friday, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It haunted me. What am I doing to take care of myself and others? The truth is that sometimes taking care of myself and others is really fucking hard.

When I was 22, I spent a summer living and working on a farm in Vermont. I fell in love with a hilltop and a girl. My exuberance and wild delight for the world, for being alive in the world (which has not diminished, though it has changed shape) felt too big too hold. I said something to the people I was living with—a friend I’ve lost touch with, my first love, and my forever bestie (though I didn’t know that then)—about how I was going to make a list of one million things I love. I don’t remember the context of the conversation, but this is the kind of grand proclamation I used to make all the time (and sometimes still do). I remember that one of them (the friend I’ve lost touch with, according to my journal) told me this was an impossible task.

So I started a list in my journal. I got to 390.

I thought my friend was wrong then, and I think she’s wrong now. I set aside the list and I’m not going to pick it back up—one million is a big number—but I still believe that, if I had unlimited time, I could do it. There are one million things I love.

In honor of my 22-year-old self, who was hopeful and earnest and scared and loud about what she loved, and with the voice of my almost-39-year-old self, who is earnest and scared and loud about what I love and learning to be hopeful: here’s a collection of things I love.

You can read this from top to bottom and click on whatever intrigues you. Or you can click on one link every time you’re tempted to open social media. Or you can close your eyes, scroll, click wherever your finger lands, and see where it takes you. However you receive this gift, I hope it brings you some small moments of connection, delight, silliness, hope, and wonder.

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I love this poem by Mary Oliver. And I really, really, really love this one. Oh and I also love this one. I love everything happening here so much it’s hard to be reasonable (so I’m not).

I love this photo so much I wrote a whole poem about it.

I love that these colors exist in the world.

I love this process because it is the reason I am alive and also it is basically magic. Science is basically magic. (I don’t know who this dude is but I’ve watched a lot of videos on this in the past two weeks and I like his chill tone.) This one is good, too.

I love this way of marking time. And also this way. And also this way.

I love this sound and the creatures who make it:

I love this, which I found out about because of this rad person.

I love this and I wish I could go in person!

I love this poem as much as it is possible to love a poem. I love these birds as much as it is possible to love birds.

I love this photo of beloved queer ancestors. I love this portrait.

I love this ridge. I love this long poem. I love the farm that makes these.

I love this story and its lineage.

I love what’s happening in this photo. I love this piece of art (the second one) even though it makes me cry.

I love sunflowers:

I love how these words feel in my mouth and my heart.

I love this poem, and I love that a friend shared it with me, and I love what she wrote about a picture book I recommended, and I love how she thinks about reading (and everything), and I love these words, and I love friendship.

I love sonnets. I love cake. I love when cake people bake each other’s recipes. I love drinking this. I love these so much.

I haven’t ever met this being, but I love it because of friendship. I love this because of friendship, too. Speaking of beings I love, here’s another one. I love that people do this.

I love this poem. I love this film. I love this conversation. I love this album.

I love that this happens on our planet and I also love this:

I already said how much I love one of these photos, but I love the rest of them, too.

I love this poem as much as it is possible to love a poem and maybe more, and I love listening to Ross Gay read it. And I love listening to these two poets talk to each other.

I love this place and this place and this place and this place and this place, too.

I love that this happened. This is a thing our universe does!

I love this lil comic. And this one. And this one. And this one. And really most of them.

I love this poem. I love this. I love these paintings.

I love this tree:

I hate capitalism, but I really, really, really love these (and since I send them back when they were wear out, I don’t buy new ones anymore)!

I love this poem. And this one, of course. I love this song. I love this show (and especially this character).

I love this place, even though I’ve never been there. I love this bird so much sometimes it takes my breath away.

I love this author! I love this essay! I love these words and these words and these words and these ones.

I love this snippet of queer history and this photo.

I love this poem and this poem even though they break me. I love this review of this book that I love.

I love winter and weather:

I love these book reports. I love this alphabet. I love this season.

I love that we share the world with these beings and these ones and these!

I love and need this poem. I love this music.

I love this essay.

I already told you how much I love these beings, but I really, really love them.

I love this, which came into my life because of this, which I love so wildly I did this.

I love blue snow shadows:

I love so many faces: this face, and this face, and this face, and this face, and I love the wildness and grace and play and wisdom of these lives, and that I get to live in a world they lived in, and learn from them.

I love this plant. I love these bears.

I love portals like this one. I love this library. I love reading these words every week, and these ones, too.

I love how many of these there are. I love this and this. I love this. I love the work of this artist. I love this book about him.

I love this collection of books.

I love this story.

I love the creatures who can do this:

I love these birds! I love this bird! I love this story about birds!

I love this. I love this.

I love this poem. I love these sentences. I love all the creatures here. I love these creatures, too! I love this song!

I love the way this poem makes me feel.

I love all of these flighty prints. I love this lil gay press so much. I love this poem.

I love this place:

I love this book, because of this rad person.

I love these little love notes I wrote each week for so many years.

I love this piece of 301-year-old music. I cannot explain why, but I love this piece of music maybe more than any other piece of music I know. Some things just live in your heart forever. Like this bit of 2,000+ year-old poetry, which I also love unreasonably.

Look, I just really love educational videos about plants, okay! Ferns are so cool! I also love mosses.

I love the love of my life:

What do you love? The comments are wide open.