Dear Josie, I am happy every time I see a new offering from you, not because I expect something new or exciting every time, or because I count on something coming on a regular basis. I am happy because it comes from someone honest enough, brave enough and generous enough to write and create in such a way that her spirit shines through always. Even when you yourself may feel it is not so, I think I am not alone in feeling touched by you in the heart space in which we are all connected. That is quite a gift you trust us with and it is definitely enough. Once touched, no need for many words. Once given, such a gift becomes a treasure.
Any time I tell a fellow chronically ill person that a limited life can be a good life, I recommend them your book and this Substack and I tell them how much your perspective on life helped me to find my own ways to live a good life, a big part of it being a greater appreciation of nature. I will never forget the difference you made.
You recommended I get a magnifying glass on your moss post and so I did and I've had a wonderful time looking at moss and plants and tree bark. Last week I got to use it to look at everything covered in frost and it was incredible to have that view that I'd never seen before. So thank you for adding that joy to my life!
I hope you'll get some respite from the infections and hospital trips soon.
Emily, this does my heart so much good. Thank you so much for sharing my blog and book with people - honestly, my entire career depends on people like you nudging my work in front of people so it really does mean the world! I think you're going to love my new book that's coming out in June. Really excited to share it with you x
I'm so glad you found joy in the view of the moss and other plants through the magnifying glass Emily. I told Josie how moss and ferns had brought me such strange comfort when I was grieving my Mother a few years ago and to look at that little (unseen before) world as it grew daily on my little dish was very soothing.
Josie, your stories are always more than enough. I wish I could tell you that every time you need to hear it. You always, always remind me what really matters. I don't forget so much these days – ageing brings its own down-to-earthnesses and will always remind you of your frailty if you have the audacity to forget – but you have such a gift. And that gift is a consequence of all the things you struggle with. You shine even when you don't think you are. I think that might be how it's supposed to work. So sending a hug.
Thank you, Sharon. The thing I most want to find as I continue to age is, I think, FREEDOM. Freedom to play, to let go of all these hang-ups, freedom to relax. I am aiming for a day when, whatever I do and whatever anyone else thinks, I feel that sense of enough-ness right down to the core of me. Thank you so much for reading and for all your support. It means so much.
You turn pain into prose and poetry. And never fail to make people feel more connected , and also remind them TO feel. It’s quite a skill. And pretty unique. Sending waves of healing through the interweave……..
Thank you. I don't want to admit to myself that I'm chronically ill, but there it is. It is new to me. Or rather, the idea that it won't go away is new because it has been there, hiding, for many years now. Every time I read one of your offerings, I unbend a little. I remind myself that I need to close down that voice saying 'you're lazy, you're not doing enough'. It's hard to be reminded constantly of the limits, when I don't have the energy to do something about it. When I read your Substack, I am able to again open to possibility.
Ah Patricia, welcome. Never be afraid of naming and saying the truth - there is always power in it, not defeat. Maybe our adventure is to explore our lives all the way to our edges as they actually are, not how we wish they were, even if we feel very small and insufficient. We both contain multitudes, still and always. I hope you can give yourself permission to relax and give your body and mind the care they need. You're allowed to - I promise.
I hear you and every time you write your words touch a deep place within me. Even a few words are all it takes and you managed pages! Thank you for sharing when it's so hard.
I've been collecting these little snippets over the last few weeks and it felt so glad to share them with you all at last. Thank you for reminding me that a little is enough too! I often need to hear that.
Thank you for sharing your stories with us, Josie. Some of your thoughts made me think of a book I’ve just finished reading: “Threads” by Julia Blackburn. It’s about the life of John Craske (1881-1943), a Norfolk fisherman who later experienced chronic illness that resulted in him having to spend long periods of time in bed with little energy to do anything. He started painting seascapes and later did embroideries. His drive to create (he covered the walls and doors of his house with pictures), even in the face of significant challenges (and, at least initially, with no expectation of anyone else ever even seeing his work) reminds me very much of your own desire to create and share with others. Like you, he had a loving and devoted partner - and he also later had a couple of loyal patrons who appreciated his work and did their best to promote it. Your post has made me think more deeply about the importance of the people in our lives who love and care about us, and how they can lift us up in times of need.
So happy to read these words today as a cold descends upon my chronic body. It is precisely the pace I need. No, not to be entertained but to remember introspection and connection and the small beauties of our small lives.
Rest well love. I know I will with a smile on my face after readings this. 🙂
So sorry you are in a very difficult place physically right now. I have chronic fatigue syndrome so I know how you can feel so bad you wonder if you will ever get onto a good plateau again. Being ill and fatigued is precisely what makes your words so insightful, interesting and powerful! You don’t need to compete with other writers/bloggers. You see things they will never see because they are moving at too fast a pace to notice the things you notice! Your words matter and so do you! Thanks for making me love nature on a whole new level! Loved your Still Life memoir so much! Hope you will soon be feeling much better again Josie!
Far, far from small change Josie. You have lavished riches on us with your words, stories and pictures. Such bounty from the depths of exhaustion. I've been thinking a lot recently about wishing I could lose the shame I carry about long term illness, which you reference here. I wonder how much lighter we might all feel if we could do that. Love to you. X
I am determined to get there. I don't want to keep carrying this shame and inadequacy around any more. 2025, I'm aiming to do a LOT of letting go. It's time and I'm really ready. Wishing you so much love and release too xx
Dear Josie, I am happy every time I see a new offering from you, not because I expect something new or exciting every time, or because I count on something coming on a regular basis. I am happy because it comes from someone honest enough, brave enough and generous enough to write and create in such a way that her spirit shines through always. Even when you yourself may feel it is not so, I think I am not alone in feeling touched by you in the heart space in which we are all connected. That is quite a gift you trust us with and it is definitely enough. Once touched, no need for many words. Once given, such a gift becomes a treasure.
Oh these are such beautiful words, Henny. Thank you. Care and encouragement like yours helps me enormously right now x
Any time I tell a fellow chronically ill person that a limited life can be a good life, I recommend them your book and this Substack and I tell them how much your perspective on life helped me to find my own ways to live a good life, a big part of it being a greater appreciation of nature. I will never forget the difference you made.
You recommended I get a magnifying glass on your moss post and so I did and I've had a wonderful time looking at moss and plants and tree bark. Last week I got to use it to look at everything covered in frost and it was incredible to have that view that I'd never seen before. So thank you for adding that joy to my life!
I hope you'll get some respite from the infections and hospital trips soon.
Emily, this does my heart so much good. Thank you so much for sharing my blog and book with people - honestly, my entire career depends on people like you nudging my work in front of people so it really does mean the world! I think you're going to love my new book that's coming out in June. Really excited to share it with you x
I'm excited to read it! It looks right up my street!
I'm so glad you found joy in the view of the moss and other plants through the magnifying glass Emily. I told Josie how moss and ferns had brought me such strange comfort when I was grieving my Mother a few years ago and to look at that little (unseen before) world as it grew daily on my little dish was very soothing.
Josie, your stories are always more than enough. I wish I could tell you that every time you need to hear it. You always, always remind me what really matters. I don't forget so much these days – ageing brings its own down-to-earthnesses and will always remind you of your frailty if you have the audacity to forget – but you have such a gift. And that gift is a consequence of all the things you struggle with. You shine even when you don't think you are. I think that might be how it's supposed to work. So sending a hug.
Thank you, Sharon. The thing I most want to find as I continue to age is, I think, FREEDOM. Freedom to play, to let go of all these hang-ups, freedom to relax. I am aiming for a day when, whatever I do and whatever anyone else thinks, I feel that sense of enough-ness right down to the core of me. Thank you so much for reading and for all your support. It means so much.
You turn pain into prose and poetry. And never fail to make people feel more connected , and also remind them TO feel. It’s quite a skill. And pretty unique. Sending waves of healing through the interweave……..
I often wonder what my purpose is. Perhaps this is it?! You have summed it up so beautifully, thank you so much.
Exactly this 💛
Thank you. I don't want to admit to myself that I'm chronically ill, but there it is. It is new to me. Or rather, the idea that it won't go away is new because it has been there, hiding, for many years now. Every time I read one of your offerings, I unbend a little. I remind myself that I need to close down that voice saying 'you're lazy, you're not doing enough'. It's hard to be reminded constantly of the limits, when I don't have the energy to do something about it. When I read your Substack, I am able to again open to possibility.
Ah Patricia, welcome. Never be afraid of naming and saying the truth - there is always power in it, not defeat. Maybe our adventure is to explore our lives all the way to our edges as they actually are, not how we wish they were, even if we feel very small and insufficient. We both contain multitudes, still and always. I hope you can give yourself permission to relax and give your body and mind the care they need. You're allowed to - I promise.
Thank you 💕
You wring beauty from everything. Go so gently, my friend xx
You help me, so much, to do so! So grateful for you, Satya xx
Your writing touches me in places nothing else does. Thank you. ❤️
I couldn't ask for more. Thank you, Marianne.
I hear you and every time you write your words touch a deep place within me. Even a few words are all it takes and you managed pages! Thank you for sharing when it's so hard.
I've been collecting these little snippets over the last few weeks and it felt so glad to share them with you all at last. Thank you for reminding me that a little is enough too! I often need to hear that.
Thank you for sharing your stories with us, Josie. Some of your thoughts made me think of a book I’ve just finished reading: “Threads” by Julia Blackburn. It’s about the life of John Craske (1881-1943), a Norfolk fisherman who later experienced chronic illness that resulted in him having to spend long periods of time in bed with little energy to do anything. He started painting seascapes and later did embroideries. His drive to create (he covered the walls and doors of his house with pictures), even in the face of significant challenges (and, at least initially, with no expectation of anyone else ever even seeing his work) reminds me very much of your own desire to create and share with others. Like you, he had a loving and devoted partner - and he also later had a couple of loyal patrons who appreciated his work and did their best to promote it. Your post has made me think more deeply about the importance of the people in our lives who love and care about us, and how they can lift us up in times of need.
Ohh I shall look him up! How wonderful! Thank you so much for sharing this.
You see all the small things and make them big. Thank you.
Tender and true and so beautifully expressed. This inspires me to sit down with the sole intention of writing something at least half as honest 🩵
Oh I hope you can and do! There is such power in just laying down simple, truthful words, everything exactly as it really is.
So happy to read these words today as a cold descends upon my chronic body. It is precisely the pace I need. No, not to be entertained but to remember introspection and connection and the small beauties of our small lives.
Rest well love. I know I will with a smile on my face after readings this. 🙂
Thank you Lisa. Wishing you a quick and peaceful recovery. Just surrender for a while, it's really ok to xx
So sorry you are in a very difficult place physically right now. I have chronic fatigue syndrome so I know how you can feel so bad you wonder if you will ever get onto a good plateau again. Being ill and fatigued is precisely what makes your words so insightful, interesting and powerful! You don’t need to compete with other writers/bloggers. You see things they will never see because they are moving at too fast a pace to notice the things you notice! Your words matter and so do you! Thanks for making me love nature on a whole new level! Loved your Still Life memoir so much! Hope you will soon be feeling much better again Josie!
Thank you Jo! Sending you love and company in our tired place x
Josie, I love the truthfulness of your stories ❤️
I always want to read your stories josie xx
Thank you Lia x
Far, far from small change Josie. You have lavished riches on us with your words, stories and pictures. Such bounty from the depths of exhaustion. I've been thinking a lot recently about wishing I could lose the shame I carry about long term illness, which you reference here. I wonder how much lighter we might all feel if we could do that. Love to you. X
I am determined to get there. I don't want to keep carrying this shame and inadequacy around any more. 2025, I'm aiming to do a LOT of letting go. It's time and I'm really ready. Wishing you so much love and release too xx