issue no. 797

THE PLAYFUL PART OF ME . . .

gets a little jolt of joy every time a synchronicity occurs in my orbit. Yesterday that synchronicity came in the form of messages. Every time I’d sit down to write this draft, I’d connect with someone - a customer who walked into the taproom, a friend who’d sent a text or audio memo, a teacher sending an assignment, etc. - who added another layer of intrigue and understanding to the topic I had in mind: the potency of truth.

Not truth with a capital T, as if there is only one way - but rather the idea of moving through the world in a way that honors what we know to be true deep in our bones, a process that can be both individual and universal, from moment to moment.

I notice that so many of us can’t imagine voicing our truths - let alone acting on them - because these truths can often be deeply painful, overwhelming, or embarrassing to admit. We ignore them, put them off, or talk ourselves out of the truth, in service of hope, comfort, or survival.

But the truth - by nature - does not go away. We cannot hide from it. Even when we don’t talk about it, we feel the truth. And even though numbing from the truth can provide temporary relief, this habit ultimately inhibits us from the full spectrum of feeling that we crave - the intensity and pleasure of true joy.

The experience of grief comes to mind. Many shy away from feeling the depths of the pain, thinking that it might destroy them. But often letting oneself feel the depths of pain is the very thing that opens a portal to being present with love, gratitude, and happiness. We can’t selectively turn off receptors for pain without noticing they are the very same sensors for pleasure.

And it makes sense that we might avoid the truth. We can carry fear around truth - what if voicing the truth pulls us into a pit of despair? What if we articulate the truth and nothing changes? What if saying it out loud means we have to sit in discomfort?

And yet, we come back to that Mister Rogers refrain: ‘If it’s mentionable, it’s manageable,’ which prompts our own deep knowing that even when articulating and sitting with the truth is hard…ultimately, honoring the truth liberates us all.

So here we are - sitting in some truth of the moment.

On a macro level, we see a more pervasive awareness that the systems we’ve erected (whether consciously or through acceptance that ‘this is the way it is’) do not fundamentally serve us as a collective. Capitalism relies on an unrealistic imperative for continuous growth and requires the exploitation of a large proportion of people for the benefit of a few. The comforts afforded to us in the Global North come at the expense of human rights for those in the Global South. The foundation of our economic system relies on fuel, weapons manufacturing, and policing - which requires the subjugation and surveillance of an increasing number of people and the planet in order to provide the consistent year-over-year growth required to prevent collapse.

When we’ve spent most of our lives living within capitalism - and when accumulated wealth or comfort we’ve earned or inherited affords us ease within this system - what does it mean to direct resources to disengaging from or dismantling it? How do we keep going to survive in the present, while holding space for imagining a better way forward?

This is where the effort to voice the truth feels hardest. When you feel increasingly pressed to put your foot on the pedal, to survive the current circumstances, knowing it takes you further from your intended destination.

More specifically, looking at the food world, we see a lot of small food businesses, often in an isolated space of survival, trying to keep their operations afloat amidst increasingly hard circumstances: catapulting costs of living, soaring supply prices, an inability to keep engaged employees, and a customer base whose disposable income is evaporating in tandem with the business. We see diminishing returns, and a lot of people wondering how to survive in the long-term.

What does it mean when the cost to simply produce a meal, a product, or an experience becomes too high for a critical mass of customers to afford? As Angelica, the owner of a small, local cafe so eloquently stated, “working harder no longer changes the math.”

Here is what we know to be true: despite the systems that control and dominate, life force continues to be the most generous and generative energy we observe. In a single season, a tiny tomato seed can yield a plant as tall as me, which in turn yields thousands and thousands of seeds. Each season, when I prune the six black currant bushes in my care, they yield over 150 cuttings, each holding the potential to turn into a new fruiting plant. It’s a return on investment that can make a 401K seem less singular.

Another truth we learn from plants is the necessary cycles of life and death - the fallow periods of deep rest. Capitalism does not account for this regular rest, this complete shedding. It insists on a steady climb in a singular direction. The relentless nature of it feels short-sighted by comparison. The wisdom of nature, honed over millions of years of slow evolution, reveals that we must build in these cycles of pause, of death. They are the very thing that nourish new life, and create the conditions for explosive growth.

Knowing we don’t have answers at the ready, we name these truths from a belief that sitting in the vulnerable discomfort of knowing there has to be a better way, is itself a way forward. We do so knowing the potent power of the truth. So when it sneaks in - when you need a rest, a break, when you need to let go of something - remember the inherent wisdom of nature. Compost what is rotting - feel the grief of the loss - and tap into the honest, generous power of creation.

To feeling the full spectrum,

Tay + Dor

^{photo by Estefania Trujillo Preciado}

tidbits...

resources on anti-racism, environmentalism and food culture AKA stuff we’re reading / listening to / watching / noticing / thinking about / captivated by this Tuesday . . .

Do One Small Thing . . . what is one truth that you’ve always known, but hesitate to voice? We’d love to hear from you - reply to this newsletter, share in the comments, or email us at info@goodfoodjobs.com.

We’re grateful for the honest truths Angelica Hernandez shared about running her small food business right now in Summer Was Supposed to Save Us . . . Right?

Carla Lalli with a new kind of cookbook - one that does not shy away from the challenging truth of divorce. We can’t wait to get our hands on a copy of Food Is A Feeling.

A newsletter reader in Western Colorado shared this local art project where unused newspaper boxes are converted into public art galleries / supply depots, where “everyone can discover, enjoy and be inspired.”

In Richmond, Virginia, another reader showed us her neighborhood alleyway converted to a gallery.

The Farmworker Emergency Fund has donated $6k to 12 farmworkers for common emergencies like medical expenses, low wages, rent payments/threats of eviction, and car/bicycle repairs. You can donate directly via venmo to @notourfarm.

Our second episode of GOOD COMPANY is an interview you won’t want to miss: Taylor talks with Gina Lorubbio of Heirloom Food Project about the influence of Wendell Berry and the making of this beautiful print.

Have you picked up a copy of Dorothy’s first book of poetry? You can order Imagine a Woman from the publisher, from any local bookstore, ask for it at your local library, or on the Libby app.

View and share this free guide to How to Write a More Equitable Job Post, and stay tuned for new resources to deepen this work.

got a tidbit? drop it here for us and we’ll share it in next week’s newsletter.