A short winter letter

I’ve been hobbling around like an old man for the past few days, avoiding abrupt movements, and trying my absolute best not to drop anything on the floor since I won’t be able to pick it up again.

I did this to myself, of course. Well, she helped a bit. “She” is my new training coach, a fantastic woman with the sort of body that working class men lose their minds over and rap singers make millions of dollars describing.

I was out of the gym for several months this autumn. This happens, and it always makes me quite grumpy with myself. I’d pulled a muscle in my upper back, and then got a persistent upper respiratory infection, and then I stopped going to the gym.

Except, no. It was the other way around, actually. Trying to comprehend the interplay of causes, reactions, and subsequent effects on the body feels a lot like trying to comprehend larger historical forces. We get it wrong quite often, easily pointing to apparently simple causes and missing that they’re actually effects of other causes we thought were mere responses.

What had actually happened: I’d gotten myself so stressed over the release of my recent book that I stopped going to the gym regularly. Then, frustrated with myself, I went back, rushed through a set of back rows, and pulled that muscle. Then, having no other good way to manage my stress, sleeping poorly, and drinking way too much coffee to compensate, I then got ill.

I often let such things cascade too quickly, forgetting how little control I actually have over certain things, forgetting to give attention to the other things I can actually do anything about.

So, I’m hobbling around like an old man now, because I want legs like tree trunks, arms like oak branches, and a back, shoulders, and haunches like a draught horse.

Getting there hurts, of course, and especially makes things like descending stairs feel like an act of epic courage and risk. Last night, standing at the shrine of my gods, praying, both my quadriceps locked and I almost toppled backwards, arms flailing, laughing like a happy fool.

Alongside these sore muscles has come again the voracious hunger for both food and sleep. I napped every day this past week, only sometimes even aware that’s what I was doing. The best naps, the most delicious of them, are the “accidental” ones. You didn’t mean to nap, to steal a half-hour of repose from the work day, to revolt against the demands of the day. But sleep summoned you, and you had really no say in the matter.

The dreams in naps have always been my favorite, and the kindest. During one of these illicit, indulgent naps, a slightly older me explained to a much younger me that 47 becomes my new “best” year.

Though never really disappointed with my current life, I regard my 27th year as my favorite. I liked that guy particularly: he was relentlessly optimistic, utterly reckless, and the least concerned with doing things the way he was “supposed to” that I’ve ever been.

“Sorry,” a me a few months from now said to him. “47 becomes your new favorite you.”

It’s hard not to be optimistic about life after dreams like that, especially since 47’s just a month away. I guess this means nigredo is just finishing up, at least. Time’s come to sift through the ashes, see what survived the fires, and build up again from there.

I’ve already started, as my legs and hobbling walk will attest. I’ve also started larger and much longer projects in the past month which, for the first time in quite a long while, deeply excite me. You’ll hear about some of these over the next few months.

One of those things I can already talk about it. You’ve probably noticed that I’ve been publishing more episodes of The Re/al/ign in the past month. You’ll see many more of these, as I’ve decided to focus much more on conversations with fascinating people this year.

You’ll also see more writing from me in other places this year. This is something I’d been wanting to do for quite some time, but never really got up the courage to do so until recently.

And this year, I plan to travel much more than I have in the past few years, meaning you’ll get many more travel journal essays from me. These have always been my favorite to write, and also how I first got into public writing.

In the meantime, I have a few questions for you, and also a few opportunities I wanted to let you know about.

First of all, I wanted to remind you that I’m offering my course on Being Pagan again, starting 10 March. It might be the last time I offer the course for awhile, since this year promises to be quite busy otherwise. If you’d like to be part of it, the information is here.

Secondly, all digital books at Ritona, including my first seven books, are currently 40% off until 14 February (which is, incidentally, when 47 starts for me). If you like my writing here on Substack, I especially recommend The Secret of Crossings, which is a compilation of my best essays from the first two years of From The Forests of Arduinna. Being Pagan is another one I’d recommend of mine, and if you’ve been liking Other-Song, you’d probably also really like The Provisioner. Use code FEB24 for the discount.

Now, with the questions, I have two specific ones. First of all, I’d really love to hear who you’d like me to invite on to The Re/al/ign. I plan to release new episodes every 2 weeks, and my list of upcoming guests will run out by April at this rate.

Secondly: I’d really like to know a bit more about the kinds of writing you like best here. My subscriber list has grown so fast over the past couple of months that I’ve barely had a chance to learn about you all and what you like most.

So, do please consider commenting with answers to either (or both) of those questions. And thanks so much for being here!

—Rhyd