A good friend and I have a habit of sending the word ABUNDANCE in all capitals, with varying amounts of exclamation marks, when we experience moments of overwhelming joy or luck. Lately, my cup runneth over. I wanted to sit down, over a quiet weekend, spill it in front of me and examine its contents. Here is what I’ve found. I hope you find something too.
I. Once by Alex Dimitrov
Would you even believe when it finally happens how easy it is to feel without any proof that love may be, could be, actually is longer than time.
At the start of 2023, I made one New Year’s resolution: I wanted to go on a date. Just one. It had to happen — I had never been on a date, at least not on purpose.
I took a solo trip to Amsterdam in June, and upon my return, my skin felt thick and protective. I felt a new reconciliation and friendliness with myself, allowing me to stand in front of someone and say, confidently, hello, here I am. So much of my life has been spent in observation, in passivity, and despite its teachings (which I cherish, nonetheless), I knew I needed to be a participant in my own life. It had been a long time since I had made a choice. I want a storm I can dance in, wrote Franny Choi.
I want an excuse to change my life.
We met on Hinge, which seemed like the easiest way. I’d meet someone who seemed nice enough, and I’d sit in front of them and expand out of my body, feeling out the space I occupied and how I held it. Then we’d part ways, and I wouldn’t have to see them again, and I could check off that box. Resolution resolved.
It started that way. I nearly canceled on the way there, my skin buzzing. But then it felt almost too easy. He was sweet, and smart, and funny. We talked for two hours under an umbrella in the rain. I wanted to hold his hand. Was it supposed to be this simple? I didn’t believe it. Nearly eight months later, I turn around, and there he is. A pinned WhatsApp chat, a name dropped without explanation. I want to be with him all the time. It’s not an extravagant love story, but to me, it’s better.
The change is subtle. There’s a second wavelength under my life, an anchor, like when you’re stressed out in the grocery store and you realise the speakers are playing a song you love. It’s something I can tune into among all the uncertainty, a melody I can’t see the end of. I struggle to remember a life without him, not because it wasn’t beautiful, but because he’s slotted in so effortlessly that I forget he hasn’t always been there. I still see my friends and read poems and eat pastries in the park. Nothing’s changed, not really. Just the new comfort of an echo.
I’m learning who I am in a partnership. I’ve spent so much of my life alone and lonely, and letting go of that has been somewhat of a sacred practice. My heart flutters when I see him, even after days and days together, just because I’m still in disbelief that someone could love me this much. And I feel so lucky to get to love him in return.
II. Arriving Again and Again Without Noticing by Linda Gregg
I remember all the different kinds of years. Angry, or brokenhearted, or afraid. I remember feeling like that walking up a mountain along the dirt path to my broken house on the island. And long years of waiting in Massachusetts. The winter walking and hot summer walking. I finally fell in love with all of it: dirt, night, rock and far views. It’s strange that my heart is as full now as my desire was then.
I started antidepressants in June. I’ve been reluctant for years, convinced that my feelings were always under my control. As a result, my low days always led to guilt, like I was wasting my life, and these happened more often than not. My feet dragged under me, and I was plagued with a monotonous melancholy that I hesitated to believe wasn’t circumstantial. It wasn’t until my life quieted, early last year, that I burrowed into my life and listened.
Once I began to feel the change, it appeared disguised as loss. I couldn’t cry. Perhaps I don’t feel as deeply as before, perhaps my writing isn’t as strong or emotional. I was always afraid I’d lose myself. It took me a while to understand and accept that an antidepressant isn’t a mask — it removes the one you’re already wearing. In the same way that people with blurry vision are given glasses. If it’s a sacrifice, it’s one I have to make. I feel light and human.
I can see my life far more clearly. I’ve been pushed to say yes more often, to say no more often, to wake up earlier and look forward to the light. There are things in my life that I never thought would appear. Despite the plethora of influences that could have brought them to me — divine, luck, cosmos — I try to give myself some credit. My avoidance of medication was due to a fear that any accomplishments I have would never be truly mine. I’ve unlearned this, mostly. This decision has removed the weights on my ankles, and I can run faster, full speed, toward the finish line.
I debated revealing this, and a lot of people may disagree with my choice to do so. But Devotions has always been about feeling — whether that’s chemical or not. A lot of people rely on a little help to get through the day, sometimes forever. That’s okay. Here I am, saying it loudly.
III. Poem by Ron Padgett
You're here— and if you relax for a moment your back and other parts will arrive and you can be together, with yourself, a little happiness
My life looks entirely different than it did when I wrote my last newsletter. Some of these changes have been sudden and lucky, but others I worked for. I sent around 200 job applications between May and December. In August, my flatmate and I were told that our flat had sold, and we had to leave by November. While I scrambled for a way to stay, he decided to move back to the States. There was a moment when I considered doing the same, feeling rejected by a city I loved so much but didn’t seem to want me.
You can find yourself at a crossroads, with all signage leading to one path, and still choose to take the other. I’ve always struggled with knowing when to push back. People say if it’s meant to be, it’ll be, and I do believe that, but there comes a point when you have to decide whether to keep fighting the wind or surrender and let it carry you elsewhere. It’s a personal decision, and the world won’t make it for you. There was beauty in both choices, but I looked around at my life, and the way it was developing, and wanted to try. For my own sake.
I was faced with a lot of rejection. Jobs I thought I would get, seemingly perfect flats that didn’t like me enough to choose me. That’s kind of what it boiled down to — waiting to be chosen, to be given a chance. I spent so much energy trying to prove myself. It felt personal when people turned away, even when I knew it wasn’t.
Early in our relationship, my boyfriend introduced me to the Library of Babel. It was coded in 2015, based on a short story by Borges, and contains every possible existing combination of letters and punctuation, which is near-infinite. This means, in one way or another, it retains every story that ever has been written, thought or told, as well as every story that will or could be. Most of it is nonsense, and the chances of coming across a comprehensible combination would take an extortionate amount of luck. Still, it exists, out there, somewhere.
I’ve thought about this a lot. Every job application I sent, every flat listing I inquired about, every momentary choice I’ve made — it’s not the outcome of these decisions, but rather the combination of the right ones that snap my life into place like a jigsaw.
Well, reader, I feel it now.
My life has opened up in ways I never thought possible. I’ve reflected on it in the past with joy and gratitude, but never with happiness. I know that now because this is how it feels. At the end of the day, I gave these chances to myself. I sent the applications and the messages, I said yes, I said no, and I remained steadfast in the things I wanted. The power was in my hands, but it was the love and support of the people around me that protected it. When it slipped between my fingers, they picked it up, blew off the dust, and gave it back to me.
There is still much to do, and many things to work on. I need to read and write more, wake up earlier and keep my room clean, take better care of my body. These were afterthoughts for so long. Now, it’s time to live.
Hello. It’s been a while. I’ve missed you.
Life has changed completely, almost unrecognisably. It’s taken me a little extra time to get used to it, to find a moment to step aside and observe with grounded reflection rather than wild disbelief.
I’m still working on my novel. It’s going well. In a way, I’ve fallen in love with it. It’s my current priority, so Devotions will be sparse moving forward. I can’t commit to a frequency, but I promise it won’t be too few and far between. I still have so much to say.
I am so grateful for your patience and understanding. Thank you.
ABUNDANCE!
<3
Tara
ABUNDANCE!!!!!
tara!! tara how i've missed your letters! change comes in so many shapes into our lives, and i'm glad to hear you were able to withstand it all next to people that love you dearly. may you find more ABUNDANCE as you continue going forward!!