The garden party is in full swing at my house right now, which means I’m either taking care of plants, teaching myself food preservation, or coming up with new and exotic ways to eat tomatoes and cucumbers. In retrospect, I think it’s fair to say that ten tomato and eight cucumber plants is more than a family of three really needs.

But the abundance of the garden is also a great reminder of all the things in life we can be thankful for, that engender a sense of awe, especially those things we might take for granted. Sure, it’s cool to have a cucumber factory going. But what really blows my mind is the fact that my attempt to grow cucumbers last year was a dismal failure! So this year’s crop is more than just produce, it’s also the product of persistence and faith.

And I think we all could use some of that right now. A few people told me that they felt scared after reading the last newsletter. I get it! These are, in my opinion, pretty scary times. Which is why, in addition to preparing as best I can for our new reality, I’m putting intention and attention to the things that allow me to “take heart.”

Need some ideas to get you started? How about this:

• Solar farms around the world are providing clean energy while also restoring wildlife habitats and improving biodiversity in ways no one expected
• A river otter was spotted in the Bronx River for the first time in over 100 years, signaling the waterway is in ecological recovery after being treated as “an open sewer and a dumping ground for New York’s rapidly expanding industrial base” for decades
• In the wake of Hurricane Lala in Hawaii, residents banded together, finding creative ways to provide each other with gas, food, water, and communications—long before state and federal assistance reached them
• The local CSA (community supported agriculture) I joined has been an amazing source of community and generosity, offering seed starting classes that bring members together and bonus vegetables and plant starts
• A friend decided to cook a meal once a week when a friend of hers won the election for mayor of a large city, ensuring the whole family got at least one delicious and nutritious meal they didn’t have to cook themselves

I could go on and on. From world events to the plentiful bees buzzing around my garden, from the news of community after community banning or postponing data center builds (even in Texas!) to the random strangers who point at my husband’s cheesy pop-culture T-shirts to say, “Hey man, cool shirt!”.

There’s a reason “taking heart” begins with a verb. You have to actively look for the good and the inspiration.

I also believe that kindness is a bit like the jet stream, a current that travels the world, transforming the environment wherever it goes. So in addition to taking heart, I like to practice giving heart too. Here are just a few ways I’ve tried to “give heart” this past week:

• I shared fruits and vegetables from my garden, along with some of the creations made from them, with my neighbors, including some pints of my very first canned applesauce. My husband was a welcome helper in this endeavor, which is just one of the ways he gave some heart this week.
• When a former neighbor organized a fundraiser for a mail carrier who had gone through a traumatic experience, I gave more generously than I’m sure she intended, even though I don’t live in the neighborhood anymore. This is part of a larger campaign I’m leaning into, to “just say yes.” If someone in my circle cares enough to raise money for a cause, I can find a way to contribute.
• When a friend decided to take a trip to London, I made a list of recommendations for his visit (my family used to live there). On his first day, he shared he’d had one of the best meals of his life after eating at the one restaurant on my “must do” list

Notice how small these actions are! Each one is a drop in the bucket compared all the things we experience in a day, but drop by drop, our buckets can be filled.

I want to leave you with two things. One, a challenge. Over the next few weeks, bring attention and intention to what gives you heart and how you’re spreading heart. Then reply to this message and tell me about it. I’m not going to share it. Think of it as just an extra nudge of accountability as you build this practice.

Two, I wanted to share the poem that inspired this newsletter, originally published in the journal Beltway. A new friend recently invited me to an open mic and as part of my “just say yes” efforts, I dug through my old poetry manuscripts for something to share. It’s probably been over a dozen years since I’ve written poetry, but this brought me to tears. I like to think it was my younger self writing to my future self, somehow intuiting just what I needed to hear. I hope it’s just one more way I can offer you some heart.

The Glassblower’s Heart

​
We held his heart in our hands,
passed it from one to another in wonder.
His was a heart you could see through,
understand. Caught mid-motion,
like a taxidermist’s snarl or a painter’s salmon
swimming upstream, the heart looked
nothing like its caricature: the arch of the aorta,
the imaginary flux from atrium to ventricle
and out. Valves blew open as curtains
in a light breeze.

​
The heart was hard, heavier than we expected.
The detail, down to the ridges and weave
of the great cardiac vein and the
left anterior descending coronary artery,
took our breath away.

​
We were years away from this kind
of skill, our unscarred hands said we were young.
We wanted to be men not afraid
to make a thing so delicate, but there was
so much we didn’t know about hearts and the life
we could breathe into them.