Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

Close enough.

December 29, 2017


There's this little saying from the Great Depression that I've taken to chanting as my own personal mantra: use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without. There is so much I love about this, not least of which is the challenge of it and its inherent useful creativity.


But there's also the history, the this-too-shall-pass-ness of it, the reassurance that there's a whole generation behind us who lived their lives, not in a moment of history, but in a day-to-day reality that, while difficult, probably also felt very much like normal life--siblings fought, books were read, holidays were celebrated, people laughed, babies were born, communities brainstormed ease and relief where they could, art was made, music and books and poems were written, people died, people fell in and out of love, and days passed until they didn't. 


Living in an historical moment feels, day to day, no different than some mundane year where things went more or less as expected (has there ever been such a year?). It's only hindsight that affixes the label defining an era. So why not have a philosophy of use, make, repurpose, or abstain?


Think of the life you're weaving--not just in your own circle of home, but in the wider circle of history, pulling threads from generations past to work into the warp and weft of those to come. 










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This Quiet Earth