Hurrah! What a great feeling to feel comfortable and "enough" in a strange land. My first evening in the kibbutz, the kids in my group and eye sat down to a Shabbat chicken dinner. The skinless boiled chicken was served in a bowl. As I held the chicken to bite into it, I looked at the others, all of whom were cutting pieces of chicken to eat from a fork. "What a rube," I thought of myself as I put my chicken back in the bowl and picked up my knife.
Oh, and the variety of toilet facilities I encountered was a constant conundrum. Thanks for this post, Candace. You're an adventurous lass.
Yes! I know exactly how you felt in that moment, Sue :) But I love how something as simple as how we drink our coffee or eat a piece of chicken can play such a big part in helping us feel like we belong in a new place. Thanks so much for sharing that story, Sue 🤍
I love this series already! I quit smoking years ago. I gave up alcohol. I don't eat meat either. Coffee is one of my last remaining vices. I tried to give it up for a while, but I missed it. Not the caffeine, the pick-me-up, or the energy. But, the taste, the ritual, the experience, the feeling.
I wanted to travel when I was younger but I didn't. I hoped to end up in career that I still haven't managed to make it into. I ended up in the place I've always been afraid; at desk, in a cubicle. I've made mistakes and bad choices. I'm full of regrets and disappointments. Rarely, I have I felt ok with who or where I am. But in the few moments I tip a thin stream of hot water in widening spirals around freshly ground beans. In the span of time it takes to pour coffee into a mug and take that first perfect sip, I don't think about any of those things. I'm just there. Just me. Just drinking coffee.
Duane, I can't say enough how much I loved your comment -- lines like "the taste, the ritual, the experience, the feeling" are pure poetry! And what you wrote here was even more moving to read: "But in the few moments I tip a thin stream of hot water in widening spirals around freshly ground beans. In the span of time it takes to pour coffee into a mug and take that first perfect sip, I don't think about any of those things. I'm just there. Just me." As much as I've come to love the taste of coffee, I love how the ritual of preparing it is a daily invitation to pause and be present and come home to ourselves, and you've captured that perfectly. Thanks so much for reading and being here, Duane, and for sharing so beautifully about the role that coffee plays in your life 🙏
wow! you are far too kind! Thank you so much! Thank you for all your beautiful work and for this marvelous series. Thanks for giving me so much to think about, and for giving me the opportunity to look at things in fresh, new ways. That is artistry at its finest!
Thanks so much, Dad! You know that drawing people is always a challenge for me anyways, let alone self-portraits, so I'm so glad to hear you liked it 😅
Oh I love this. I think we are at our most beautiful when we are radiant, alive and joyful. It's better for the complexion than all the makeup and high fashion money can buy ❤️
I love your work. You are inspiring me to dig mine out of the bottom of that dusty box in the corner. I’ve been writing and creating for fifty years, almost my whole life. But how to begin sharing myself? Do I start in the middle and dig my way out? Or try to find the beginning? Can I just throw myself out on the page and see if I make sense to anyone? I’m new to this platform. How to believe that people out there would find what I’ve written? The saddest thing is to imagine my words forever echoing around in an empty tunnel, or a full box, like they are right now. Where do I begin to speak my truth?
Jill, it is so lovely to connect with you -- thank you so much for saying hello, and for sharing about where you're at on your own creative journey. I also just have to say how entirely prescient your comment was :) Right now I'm working on the next essay series I'll be sharing here, and it is very much about opening up our dusty boxes of writing -- or in my case, the notebooks I spent years filling. I especially love this question that you asked: "How to begin sharing myself?" I'm going to be thinking about that a lot over the coming weeks, but I hope that as you continue to open up your box, that the perfect place to start will make itself clear to you. Perhaps it's neither at the beginning nor the end, but at some quiet moment along the way that taught you something unexpected 🤍✨
This is so beautiful! Working as a data cleaner for Google Maps + the free diet coke there was my gateway drug to coffee. Awful job but at least it changed my life in that small way.
Thank you so much, Jessica! And get this -- the least fulfilling job I've ever had (I was going to say as a writer, but also just potentially as a job full-stop :) was also working on a project for Google Maps, so we have to talk more about that the next time we meet up 😊
Ahh that's so very kind of you to say, Jeffrey -- thank you! By the way, I have continued to think about the "three friends of winter" you wrote about last week, thank you again for such a beautiful post 🙏
"Life is beautiful whether it is simple or complicated, but we are always enough." I love that, Sharon! And I'm not sure there are four more powerful words than "we are always enough" -- may we never forget them or doubt their truth 🤍
That was so moving to read, Switter -- I also couldn't agree more with you about those little packets of Nescafé and the surprising amount of comfort they can bring 🙏
What an entirely delightful story. Life distilled into clear drops of memory swirling in hot mugs between cupped hands...
"it was the first time I'd seen a mirror in days" I am so happy for you in this moment! When we moved into our little rough homestead cabin, we didn't have a mirror for months. I had no idea the way it was going to reset my relationship with my reflection, but I honestly wish more ladies could experience it 💕
"Life distilled into clear drops of memory swirling in hot mugs between cupped hands..." Sydney! What a gorgeous line and thought. And thank you so much as well for sharing about your homestead cabin, and how it transformed your relationship with your reflection -- living mirror-free for a season can be so powerful, and I completely agree that I wish more people could have the chance to do so. It certainly challenged and changed me 🤍
This is such a beautiful series, and I loved this installment. The tin-roofed bungalow and kettle illustrations really jump out here, but watching this story unfold this way is lovely.
Thank you so much, Amy! I’m so happy to hear you’re enjoying how the story is unfolding, and I especially love that you mentioned the kettle — for whatever reason, that has always been one of my favorite illustrations from this piece as well :) Thank you again for reading and being here, and I can’t wait to share the final installment with you this week ☕️🤍
Ha! If only 😆 …but while I got my master’s in travel writing in London, I wrote a book (just a draft) about my time on the pearl farm, so you’re both inspiring me to dust that off and try to rework it as an illustrated essay series…let’s see!
Hurrah! What a great feeling to feel comfortable and "enough" in a strange land. My first evening in the kibbutz, the kids in my group and eye sat down to a Shabbat chicken dinner. The skinless boiled chicken was served in a bowl. As I held the chicken to bite into it, I looked at the others, all of whom were cutting pieces of chicken to eat from a fork. "What a rube," I thought of myself as I put my chicken back in the bowl and picked up my knife.
Oh, and the variety of toilet facilities I encountered was a constant conundrum. Thanks for this post, Candace. You're an adventurous lass.
Yes! I know exactly how you felt in that moment, Sue :) But I love how something as simple as how we drink our coffee or eat a piece of chicken can play such a big part in helping us feel like we belong in a new place. Thanks so much for sharing that story, Sue 🤍
I love this series already! I quit smoking years ago. I gave up alcohol. I don't eat meat either. Coffee is one of my last remaining vices. I tried to give it up for a while, but I missed it. Not the caffeine, the pick-me-up, or the energy. But, the taste, the ritual, the experience, the feeling.
I wanted to travel when I was younger but I didn't. I hoped to end up in career that I still haven't managed to make it into. I ended up in the place I've always been afraid; at desk, in a cubicle. I've made mistakes and bad choices. I'm full of regrets and disappointments. Rarely, I have I felt ok with who or where I am. But in the few moments I tip a thin stream of hot water in widening spirals around freshly ground beans. In the span of time it takes to pour coffee into a mug and take that first perfect sip, I don't think about any of those things. I'm just there. Just me. Just drinking coffee.
Duane, I can't say enough how much I loved your comment -- lines like "the taste, the ritual, the experience, the feeling" are pure poetry! And what you wrote here was even more moving to read: "But in the few moments I tip a thin stream of hot water in widening spirals around freshly ground beans. In the span of time it takes to pour coffee into a mug and take that first perfect sip, I don't think about any of those things. I'm just there. Just me." As much as I've come to love the taste of coffee, I love how the ritual of preparing it is a daily invitation to pause and be present and come home to ourselves, and you've captured that perfectly. Thanks so much for reading and being here, Duane, and for sharing so beautifully about the role that coffee plays in your life 🙏
wow! you are far too kind! Thank you so much! Thank you for all your beautiful work and for this marvelous series. Thanks for giving me so much to think about, and for giving me the opportunity to look at things in fresh, new ways. That is artistry at its finest!
I love the self Portrait:) Out of focus works especially when you didnt know what to expect.
Thanks so much, Dad! You know that drawing people is always a challenge for me anyways, let alone self-portraits, so I'm so glad to hear you liked it 😅
Oh I love this. I think we are at our most beautiful when we are radiant, alive and joyful. It's better for the complexion than all the makeup and high fashion money can buy ❤️
I just love how you put that, Vicki -- radiant is the perfect word for it 🤍✨
I love your work. You are inspiring me to dig mine out of the bottom of that dusty box in the corner. I’ve been writing and creating for fifty years, almost my whole life. But how to begin sharing myself? Do I start in the middle and dig my way out? Or try to find the beginning? Can I just throw myself out on the page and see if I make sense to anyone? I’m new to this platform. How to believe that people out there would find what I’ve written? The saddest thing is to imagine my words forever echoing around in an empty tunnel, or a full box, like they are right now. Where do I begin to speak my truth?
Jill, it is so lovely to connect with you -- thank you so much for saying hello, and for sharing about where you're at on your own creative journey. I also just have to say how entirely prescient your comment was :) Right now I'm working on the next essay series I'll be sharing here, and it is very much about opening up our dusty boxes of writing -- or in my case, the notebooks I spent years filling. I especially love this question that you asked: "How to begin sharing myself?" I'm going to be thinking about that a lot over the coming weeks, but I hope that as you continue to open up your box, that the perfect place to start will make itself clear to you. Perhaps it's neither at the beginning nor the end, but at some quiet moment along the way that taught you something unexpected 🤍✨
This is so beautiful! Working as a data cleaner for Google Maps + the free diet coke there was my gateway drug to coffee. Awful job but at least it changed my life in that small way.
Thank you so much, Jessica! And get this -- the least fulfilling job I've ever had (I was going to say as a writer, but also just potentially as a job full-stop :) was also working on a project for Google Maps, so we have to talk more about that the next time we meet up 😊
Beautiful! This is what you get when you combine a sense of adventure with a poet's eye for detail and gorgeous artwork.
Ahh that's so very kind of you to say, Jeffrey -- thank you! By the way, I have continued to think about the "three friends of winter" you wrote about last week, thank you again for such a beautiful post 🙏
Beautiful post, thank you for sharing your journeys with us ❤️
Thank you, Nikki! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading this 🤍
What a wonderful set of experiences! I especially loved the ending. Life is beautiful whether it is simple or complicated, but we are always enough.
"Life is beautiful whether it is simple or complicated, but we are always enough." I love that, Sharon! And I'm not sure there are four more powerful words than "we are always enough" -- may we never forget them or doubt their truth 🤍
There are times when even Nescafé in a little packet can be a home on a cold, hard day. This was one of those days when Nescafé was my only comfort:
https://switters.substack.com/p/under-the-shadow-of-ararat
That was so moving to read, Switter -- I also couldn't agree more with you about those little packets of Nescafé and the surprising amount of comfort they can bring 🙏
What an entirely delightful story. Life distilled into clear drops of memory swirling in hot mugs between cupped hands...
"it was the first time I'd seen a mirror in days" I am so happy for you in this moment! When we moved into our little rough homestead cabin, we didn't have a mirror for months. I had no idea the way it was going to reset my relationship with my reflection, but I honestly wish more ladies could experience it 💕
"Life distilled into clear drops of memory swirling in hot mugs between cupped hands..." Sydney! What a gorgeous line and thought. And thank you so much as well for sharing about your homestead cabin, and how it transformed your relationship with your reflection -- living mirror-free for a season can be so powerful, and I completely agree that I wish more people could have the chance to do so. It certainly challenged and changed me 🤍
This is such a beautiful series, and I loved this installment. The tin-roofed bungalow and kettle illustrations really jump out here, but watching this story unfold this way is lovely.
Thank you so much, Amy! I’m so happy to hear you’re enjoying how the story is unfolding, and I especially love that you mentioned the kettle — for whatever reason, that has always been one of my favorite illustrations from this piece as well :) Thank you again for reading and being here, and I can’t wait to share the final installment with you this week ☕️🤍
Great life story!
You must tell us what work you did on the farm. Sounds exciting.
I want to know too! I'm imagining her pearl diving like some sort of Bond girl
Ha! If only 😆 …but while I got my master’s in travel writing in London, I wrote a book (just a draft) about my time on the pearl farm, so you’re both inspiring me to dust that off and try to rework it as an illustrated essay series…let’s see!
that would be GREAT
lol good thinking
AH! My Heart! Being Enough to yourself!
❤️🌸❤️ Thank you for sharing your story!
Yes! Being enough to ourselves is everything, isn’t it? 🤍
Love your posts with the drawings!!! So whimsical.
Thank you, Jen! I’m so happy to hear that 🤍
do you do commissioned watercolor works?
I do! My email is candacerardon@gmail.com, so please feel free to get in touch anytime if there’s something you have in mind ☺️
Thank you, Vefa!