Another note! So many precursory notes lately. As I’ve said before, the newsletter will continue to be a bit shape-shifty. At least twice a month I’ll do a traditional essay (probably what brought you here: writing at the intersection of theory, radical politics, maybe some current happening, and usually feelings). Other weeks I’ll send shorter notes, still love letters, maybe more witchy-influenced, always still radical. These weeks (like this week) will also include a roundup of things to Read/Watch/Listen, spots to share some mutual aid dollars, and my joy & attention list. Finally, you may get an occasional week of (re)published advice column letters/essay responses. I hope you’ll stick around. <3 Thanks for bearing with the growing pains of this new iteration of the newsletter!
Dear ones,
On Thursday in Ohio we had the kind of storm that makes you want to look up poems about rain. (Or at least it was the kind of storm that makes me want to look up poems about rain.) I wanted some combination of words that got to the core of how it felt in the moment after “the sky opened up,” but even that idiom felt too weak to convey how epic it was to share release with the entire blanket of clouds above. None of the poems I found were quite right (although I tucked this one away for the next time rain feels like loss).
My next effort was to abandon English and ask some multilingual friends how they’d say “the sky opened up.” Binyamina (an incredible ritualist, herbalist, and generally magical human who you should follow here) wrote me back with this: “‘fafatahna abwaba al-samai bimain mun'hamirin.’ It technically means ‘we opened the gates of heaven with rain pouring down,’ but the ‘we’ is God.” (And written: “فَفَتَحْنَآ أَبْوَٰبَ ٱلسَّمَآءِ بِمَآءٍۢ مُّنْهَمِرٍۢ”).
That’s what I was looking for. Something bigger than a receiving in a realm we know, and instead a giving from a realm we only ever catch glimpses of.
It was a new moon yesterday which for some is about release (like the falling from the sky), and for some is a calling in (like the growth rain always brings). Either way, it’s about big energy. Of this cycle’s power and wisdom, Sarah Faith Gottesdeiner offers:
“...connection and magic still exist amidst decay, collapse, and oppression. Death and Life in simultaneity is not new. An entire collective of folks - and plants and animals and the elements and a planet - learning to adapt, resist, stay creative, stay embodied, and stay in movement isn’t new either. History repeats itself while radical change takes hold. This is the ancient future.”
Heaven raining down on us so intensely is fecund and devastating, all at once. It’s the power of that duality that makes the rain feel so dramatically profound. We get to celebrate and mourn the same thing once. We get to hold complexity. We get to honor the contradiction of an ancient future, and keep doing the work of radical change anyway. And we get to, even in hellish conditions, have faith in the sacred; we get to lift our open mouths to the sky and hold drops of heaven on our tongues.
I love you.
love & solidarity,
Raechel
Read/Watch/Listen.
What abolition looks like in action. A collection of poems from Palestine. A moving piece from Jessie Sage on sex work, caretaking, and cancer. Scott Branson and Joshua Clover talk riots, strikes, and mutual aid as care in this excellent podcast interview on The Final Straw. William C. Anderson on how the state was never meant to protect us. A gorgeous photo essay featuring trans and nonbinary people in the Midwest. The science (magic) of lightning bug synchronicity. And Niko Stratis on gender, work, and the weight of choice: “I lived a whole life I never chose. I let it choose me, every decision a passive wave crashing over me and throwing me back onto the beach. Deciding to find a new way to live and a new way to work changed more about me than any simple coming out has done.”
Share.
Some pay handles I saw this week from folks who could use some direct dollars. If you have some to spare, pick one or several of these and transfer that coin:
$AntifaMoose (cashapp)
$lankyskellington (cashapp)
@sylvie_gerardo (venmo; bail for water protectors in MN)
paypal.me/PGelderloos (comrade collecting funds for another comrade in a rough spot)
$nicmorgan86 (cashapp)
$southdademutualaidd (cashapp)
Joy & Attention.
the aforementioned epic rainstorm. voice notes/audios. iced americanos. fresh basil. a lovely two-day trip to Detroit. phone dates. dear, longtime friends. working through hard conversations with compassion and patience on both sides. listening to records. Alisha Walker getting free! an extremely queer Midsummer party full of DIY flower crowns and literal dancing around the Maypole. connection. the sweetest kitties ever. starting the process to teach yoga in prisons again. writing in coffee shops. thought-provoking movies (please talk to me about Zola, especially if you’ve done SW). sitting on the porch. perfect song lyrics. perfect summer albums. perfect playlists. feeling less graspy. walks. OTF. museum morning with my favorite kiddos. time with nana. family in general (even though also, abolish the family). when people text me about becoming oat milk converts. unreal-glorious pink and purple skies. good books. deep breaths. & trust in the power of the people - even when it’s hard to muster - everyday. <3