What's bringing me joy this fall
naming the good when you don't feel like it + the persistence of turtles
Last week, I (somehow) found myself in an electric car with a dangerously low battery. I will spare you the details as to how I ended up driving home on… fumes? on sparks? (A friend and I were laughing at how the car lingo needs to catch up with the times!) I can chuckle about it now, but I tell you, it wasn’t so funny when the battery was about to die. Basically, I set out with plenty of power and didn’t realize the traffic and the weather— strong winds and rain—would mean I’d be pulling into the neighborhood on less than 5%.
I got off the highway, only 4 miles from home. According to the car’s dashboard, I had 11 miles of power left—that’s 9% of the battery—and yet the wind and rain were still coming down. When I turned the corner into my neighborhood, it started beeping. “Charge car now!” Then “Reduced Acceleration Activated! Drive safely!” And finally, as I turned into my driveway: “Activating TURTLE MODE.”
I gripped the steering wheel tightly, considered calling my husband (I was driving his car; he was on a plane at the moment), and tried to stay calm.
Keep going, car, just a little further.
I tell you all this story as a preface to the list of “What’s bringing me joy this fall” to say that my husband’s EV and I are pulling into fall in turtle mode.
And by that, I mean: this has been a season of recharging—of slowing down, finding sustainable rhythms, and learning to be okay with my limits.
When it’s hard to name the joy
When I realized on my calendar it was time for this quarterly practice of naming what’s bringing me joy this fall, it honestly took me a minute to think of what I might share. Not because there isn’t joy in my life— there always is— but because (as you may have heard last week on the podcast) the creative life has been a little draining lately, and, per the car metaphor, I’m in need of a good, long recharge.
But here’s the thing, I didn’t see this deep desire for quiet and rest coming. My kids are both in school full-time for the first time, and after almost eight years, everyone is regularly sleeping through the night (praise!). We need an occasional babysitter instead of a part-time nanny. I walk to my son’s school and my daughter’s bus stop every morning, and stretch into work time from 8:30 to 3:30 every day. This is what we’ve been waiting for! What could go wrong??
What surprised me about this season is the same thing that surprised me about the EV: I didn’t realize how much energy I was using until it got too low. Looking back on almost eight years of horrific sleep and long days of mothering little people, not to mention a pandemic, moving across the country, and changing jobs, I realize I have been mainly running on adrenaline. You can get a crazy amount of things done under stress, and I honestly thrive under pressure. It’s my favorite and least favorite part of my personality, to be honest. But when I started sleeping through the night again, when I wasn’t working on fumes/sparks and fueled by 3 cups of strong coffee, I realized just how many lights were blinking on the dashboard.
I wish humans had a gauge like cars do, telling us how many more commitments we can book before we dread leaving the house, how much more sleep we can lose before it begins affecting our mental health, how much more editing we can take before it starts to chip away at our self-worth.
I wish we had a bodily “reduced acceleration rate” when we hit the gas too hard for too long. A turtle mode, which, if you are a regular around here, you know this phrase was a synchronicity, considering it was something my daughter invented this summer for when she thinks things are moving too fast at our house!1
If you find yourself here in the fall without much motivation to name the good, if you feel like hibernating instead: You’re not alone. I’m with you. In the spirit of recharging, let’s look around and notice it anyway, because self-reflection is an important part of self-care. Naming what’s joyful might not make the anxiety, fear, and stress go away, but it will make the good feel even better.
No. 1: Prayer walks
Every morning, I wake the kids up, get everyone out the door, and we start the walk up a small hill to my son’s school; across the street is my daughter’s bus stop. It takes about four minutes. I want to relish these incredibly convenient geographies because I know they won’t always be so close. Also, until this week, the weather has stayed relatively warm and dry this fall. Starting each morning walking my kids to school is a city girl’s dream.
I promised myself early in the school year that I would prioritize movement and keep going once drop-off was done. I was already up the hill, for goodness’ sake! And so I put my earbuds in and keep walking, most mornings two miles, meandering through our suburban neighborhood, which, I discovered, actually has quite a number of dirt roads and beautiful fall foliage, plus deer, rabbits, birds, and breathtaking sunlight bursting through trees.
If I’m feeling energized, I’ll pick up the pace a little to get my heart rate up, but most days it’s a slower stroll. I listen to my pray as you go daily devotional, I pick a playlist afterwards that keeps me in the right mood, (try not to jump into the podcasts and audio books until later in the day) and I pray, but it occurs to me now as I reflect on this practice, what I really do is listen for what I’m supposed to hear.
On my walks with God, I’ve been reassured and convicted, I’ve been given answers to big and small problems, ideas for poems and books and podcasts, and even my husband’s Sunday sermon. (Yes, he knows I’m an amazing wife.) I’ve let out steam when I’m angry or worried. I’ll say it: in this season of my life, walking is much more fruitful than morning pages. (Don’t tell Julia Cameron!)
This process of moving through the world, not in an effort to change the shape of my body—that’s how I’ve viewed exercise all my life, the thing I do to change my body— but this is different, I walk to let God change my mind, to put my soul in the correct posture, to raise the volume of God’s voice in my life. Sometimes it’s healing and deeply tender, other times it’s challenging and leaves me buzzing, and always, it is what I need to start my day.
No. 2: Tools that make meal-planning easier
Do you ever find a new system for your house or your projects that’s working really well, look back and think: Wait, what was I doing before?
One of the biggest bummers of life at my house is that the people who live here need to eat dinner every single day. (I know, the gall!) And for years, I guess I’ve just been winging it?
Contrary to the evidence of the last almost 8 years, I actually do love to cook. I learned from binge-watching the Food Network as a young adult, dreaming of having a house full of people to cook for. Alton Brown, Anne Burrell (may she rest in peace), Ina Garten…these master chefs taught me everything from how to boil water to how to blanch broccoli. But somewhere in the throes of motherhood, cooking stopped being fun.
By the way, if you’re in a season where cooking is dreadful and you’d rather clean the toilet than plan a meal, it’s 100% okay. You and your people are not going to starve. Delegate. Order take-out. Go with God.
But since my sourdough obsession began last summer, I've realized that cooking feels creative again, and so I’m running with it.
My exact little dry-erase board calendar is no longer available from Target, but there are many other versions, like this one on Amazon. For some reason, designating Monday as “meatless,” Tuesday as “tacos,” Wednesday as “whatever,” etc., writing what I’m going to make down, and thinking ahead is bringing me joy in this season. (Psssh… sometimes I pivot; no one cares.)
One final cooking gizmo: the Recime app helps you keep track of all the online recipes you find on Instagram, TikTok, etc., even NY Times ones behind a pay wall work! You just copy and paste the url from any recipe and it strips away all the intro writing, and makes it actually legible in the app, with the ingredients and recipe right there. It can even connect to other apps to add items for the recipe to a grocery list.
Also, when you’re using the app while cooking, it somehow tells your phone not to sleep, so you don’t have to keep opening your phone with dirty chicken hands. Genius!
Recime isn’t free, but here’s a tip: if you act like you might buy it and then X out of it, they’ll offer you a really cheap price for the first year! Playing hard to get pays off. You’re welcome!
No. 3: Self-portraits
The Artist’s Joy came out last year, and this fall, we’ve been reading it again together in community. The Amethyst Cohort has been unforgettable. When I wrote it, I dreamed of reading it in community, teaching others the tools in the book so they could work together to foster joy and get unstuck.
A few weeks back, we got to Chapter 6, Ode to Belonging, and we did the exercise called “self-portrait,” where we name our values and are invited to create a work of art that represents what we like about ourselves and what matters most to us. I invited a couple of folks to share theirs, and two artists volunteered. They’ve given me permission to share here.
There is something powerful that happens when we name what matters. The strength and courage in the room when many people do that is palpable. I am grateful to do this work and to everyone in this fall’s Amethyst Cohort.
No. 4: This sherpa fleece pullover from J.Crew Factory
One of my besties and I just took our annual trip to Frankenmuth, Michigan, with her mom and aunt to Bronner’s Christmas Wonderland (IYKYK), and we always make a quick pit stop at the outlets before we get back on the highway. Friends, I have a J.Crew outlet nearer to my house. It is so strange, no matter what, I always find something on this yearly trip (ok, twice) with Lauren that I wouldn’t find at the one nearer me. Some friends are magic, I tell ya!
Lauren noticed this fleece as we were about to leave, and convinced me to get it! I have barely taken it off since we left the store. It’s so soft and cute, and it makes me look like I didn’t just roll out of bed at the bus stop each morning.
No. 5: Being “done” with my book or letting it be “done” with me
I wrote another book! Don’t worry; you will be hearing a lot more about it soon. This past week, I completed the finalish edits of the proofs. I don’t keep track of draft numbers; let’s just say I turned in the manuscript back in May. I’ve been fussing over drafts of this book-baby for a whole year at this point.
The other night, I was talking to a friend, a fellow writer, Heather Lanier (check out her lovely Substack), about this phenomenon—the long arc, the ebb and flow, of long-form creative projects, especially books. You read them so many times, and eventually, they begin to disappear right before your very eyes. It’s like repeating the same word over and over until it sounds meaningless, jibberish on your tongue.
And don’t get me wrong—this is not a terrible feeling, not really. You come through the other side of a long journey, and, both times I’ve done this, I find myself having thoughts like, “Well, this is either quite good or complete trash. Hard to say.”
This week, Heather said something like, “There’s a point when I’m done with an essay, and there’s a point when it’s done with me.” And that gave words to what I’ve been feeling. I reached a moment, during this latest read through, when I realized, not only was I “done” with the book (that feeling had come way back in May when I turned in the “first” draft to the editors), but now, the book was beginning to be “done” with me. I had shepherded her into the world. I made her as clear and poetic as possible, with notes footed, facts checked, and works cited. These projects are never done-done.2 Soon comes aaaaaalllllllll the marketing. I’ll get to share her once she’s here. I’ll tell you why I think you should pick her up.
But the creative part— the part where I open up my heart and write what is true—for this project, is over. I’m rounding this corner grateful and excited, if a bit weary.
No. 6: Turtle mode, but make it quick
I swear, when that car beeped “turtle mode,” I almost lost it. If you remember from the last list of joyful things, my daughter had yelled those very words to me during the “get-your-shoes-on-now” chaos of back-to-school. When life is moving at a breakneck speed, telling someone like me to slow down is like telling an angry person to chill the *&%$ out. It feels contrary to reality, thankyouverymuch, impossible. Maybe for other people, but not for me.
I wanted this season, when my children were finally in school all day, to be all about hitting the ground running and cooking with gas (and any other aggressive metaphor that doesn’t involve self-reflection, contemplation, or slowing down in any way, shape, or form). I didn’t realize I had that expectation until it was not met. Here’s a true thing: it is impossible to know how you will feel inside a new season until you know how you feel inside a new season. And that’s ok.
Just naming that my expectations and energy levels were on vastly different planes was the beginning of a shift. It explained so much. The dips in motivation, the big and small artist tantrums, the literal and metaphorical battery lights blinking all around me—my creative self was trying to tell me something. This fall, it is bringing me joy to listen to the gentle voice of self-compassion and self-forgiveness that I know is true. So, turtle mode it is.
I made it home with 4% power left, charged that car faster than you could say “turtle mode.” It wasn’t a joyful moment, per se, but it did open me up to what is mine to do in this season.
I’ve got more to say about what that practically looks like for me, but I’ll save it for tomorrow’s podcast.3
Thanks for being here. I hope you’ll slow down enough to name the good, even when it’s hard, because it helps. Doesn’t it?
What’s bringing you joy this fall, friends? Tell me in the comments. 👇
How’s that for a clear message! OK OK, I get it!
After all, I have to read through it one more time to make sure all the edits were implemented correctly!
If you need support and solidarity as you create your art (and your life), if you want to move more slowly and with more intentionality through this season, sign up to get the weekly episode of the podcast in your inbox here. FYI, this list is different than the Substack subscriber list. You can also listen to the show on Apple and Spotify.
Didn't expect turtle mode! How's that implemented?
When you mentioned walking being more fruitful than morning pages, remember Julia Cameron also wrote a book entitled “Walking in this World” (which is wonderful btw) so Julia would still be pleased at your efforts.