Reflections: we are traveling through harrowing conditions

small brave thing #227

Hello beautiful human,

Once upon a time I wrote a book titled We Are Traveling Through Dark at Tremendous Speeds. It was the truest statement I could think of. For myself, my marriage at that time, and, well, everyone on the planet. It was what I had to say, in that moment, about the human predicament, as experienced in my body, hopefully with resonance for others. And I had some fun with the fact that the vehicle I was driving was named an Odyssey. Myth is always with us, and always some degree true.

1.

Last week I drove another Odyssey through harrowing conditions of a winter variety to pick up my kid and bring them home for spring break. I’m a pretty adept winter driver, but these roads were the worst I’ve experienced that I can remember. I don’t often feel scared, so I pay attention when I do and I said to my offspring as we hoisted their duffel into the van, “We’re finding a hotel. We’ll drive home tomorrow morning after the plows have been out.”

Photo by Rémi Jacquaint on Unsplash

We made the best of it. Splurged on a hotel that was close by, on a dinner that was on site, and we congratulated ourselves on enjoying the random gift of a holiday we hadn’t anticipated. The beds were comfortable, the food was fancy, and my kid learned port is not their drink of choice.

The next day, we got up and left on the early side on roads that were mostly all better. I could feel the chemicals still surging through my body from the previous day’s challenges. What I needed, I knew, was to be home, move slowly, not experience bright lights or noise and recalibrate for a day. To slowly allow myself to get back to regulated. We like to think we bounce back quickly from adversity but the truth is, we’re complicated chemical creatures and it takes longer than we want to admit to recover, whatever it may be we’re recovering from—from a cold, a shock, a surgery, a disaster, a grief.

So I needed time. What happened, however, is that I was sent the message I was needed at work, that I needed to show up that day at my high-intensity, fast-paced and pressured pharmacy job. I get it. I hadn’t asked for nor anticipated taking a day off. It wasn’t in the schedule.

And.

It was one of those moments when what we all know becomes (again) simply clear. While I love my coworkers and none of this is their fault, the systems of capitalism and the societal values around work, worth, and who and what we are responsible to and for…are not aligned to support our human thriving.

We trade our lives, and often our health, for money, because we’ve set up systems where our security and welfare depend more upon our bank accounts than our neighbors. And this twists us in weird ways.

2.

My job as a pharmacy technician is not a prestigious position, but it allows me an inside perspective on workplaces in 2025 in the USA. As with many workplaces, the least paid workers at my pharmacy are the ones who actually do the thing that serves the customer. The upper echelons of corporate, off-site, get paid much more for doing less.

It’s weird, isn’t it? Can we agree it’s weird where we are right now even if it is sadly familiar? Really we should be paying the people who clean the bathrooms the most, shouldn’t we? How about the people who wipe butts, young or old? The people who handle our waste and remains and clean up our messes? Why are we not doing this? Why are we not honoring them for taking care of the places, spaces, people and jobs that the rest of us shudder at?

3.

Here’s a story: once upon a time, a group of four men showed up at our pharmacy out of the blue, unannounced. They were all in their forties somewhere, in casual business dress and haircuts, and they all moved with the easy assurance of people who expect to be listened to. These four men—a couple of whom were showing the others around a few of our stores, that’s why they were there, it turned out—stood and talked for two hours. That’s it. And for a good portion of that time, they decided to stand and talk exactly in the areas we techs needed to be to get our jobs done, oblivious that they were in the way.

I am quite sure those four men will get well paid for all of that standing around and talking, maybe making as much money in that half day as I see in a week of work. I am sure they will expect to be well paid for that. It would not occur to them to doubt their own value nor the value of their time, their talk. Nor to wonder whether they impacted the work that we could do on-site that morning.

And it will not occur to them to ask why the women scurrying around under their feet that day are in the jobs we are in. The girls, as they call us. Or, “my girls,” when talking about the techs in their own pharmacies. Surely, they will conclude, if we wanted to be paid more or have a different or better job, we would simply have made different choices. They will assume they have made their own way and earned their privilege and that any of us could have done the same. It's our own fault if we didn’t, and no one will be able to tell them otherwise.

4.

Don’t assume you don’t also have these assumptions. I’m asking these questions of myself as well: When was the last time you struck up a peer conversation with someone in a different economic class? When was the last time you attempted to learn something from someone lower in the socio-economic hierarchy than yourself? Who is in your circles?

5.

There are costs to the work we do that are difficult to put into words. The tiredness I felt that day as they stood there talking was complex and I still feel it. No sleep will repair that exhaustion.

6.

I don’t have any solid answers as I think about all of this. What I do know is, my life, my wild, generous, crowded life, only makes sense from the perspective of a gift economy. My entire existence is somehow counter-cultural. Great whole swaths of years and energy and work are invisible in the existing structures, except as a deficit, a unit of consumption.

And it will not do. It simply will not do any longer, to give heed to any form of accounting that counts our caregivers and creators as merely negative drains on family resource or societal institutions. That believes AI is a good substitute in the workplace or in our hobbies—or any kind of substitute at all— for human writers and artists who deserve to be paid for their talents and visions. It will not do to create workplaces so pressured that people must show up without the ability to take breaks naturally and fluidly and in the moment as they need, whenever necessary for physical, mental, or emotional health.

It will not do to value our 401Ks more than our neighbors.

We’ve got it all backwards. And each of us can begin to unravel one little strand somewhere.

How do we remember our way to something new? We are traveling through harrowing times. We are enmeshed in crisis. It’s time for something else, for other ways and small shifts in multiple directions. I’m open, I’m listening…anyone have any ideas?

xo
S

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A Celebration Corner for sharing the Good Goodies

Someone just wrote and asked if I carried a specific title at Baker’s Dozen. Not yet, I said. I could, if you want me to. Baker’s Dozen is a different kind of online store (of course it is, it’s imaginary). You’re unlikely to find a specific title. Much more likely to find a surprise you weren’t looking for. It’s a nonlinear, swervy sort of place. Filled with books you didn’t even know you needed. And adding more every week.

I came across this post by Jason Mackenzie in my inbox and he shares solid commuication advice we all could stand to remember. Also, he’s really up front about how it was for him to come into the Substack space. I can relate. A lot of us spend some amount of time chasing numbers and likes before we move into a more comfortable groove.

Both kids are home on spring break and that means celebration and celebration means cake. We made a “whisper cake,” a delicate flavored confection perfect for spring equinox season. It has only a “whisper” of white chocolate flavor.

White Chocolate Whisper Cake - recipe from Rose Levy Berenbaum’s Cake Bible

Note: as you can see in the photo, we did not frost the cake. instead, we melted the remaining white chocolate chips and an equal amount of jam in the double boiler and spread that between the two halves. This is a delicious, very mild cake. A butter cake that tastes like pound cake all grown up. 

6 oz white chocolate
4 1/2 large eggs whites (4 oz measured)
1 cup milk
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
3 c sifted cake flour
1 c + 3 Tb sugar
4 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
9 Tb unsalted butter (softened)

Preheat oven to 350
Grease and flour to 9" cake pans
In a double boiler, melt the chocolate over hot (not simmering) water, stirring frequently. Remove from water. 
In a medium bowl, lightly combine egg whites, 1/4 c milk, and vanilla
n a large mixing bowl, combine the dry ingreidents and mix on low speed 30 seconds to blend. Add the butter and remaining 3/4 c milk. Mix on low speed until the dry ingredients are moistened. Increase to medium speed (high speed if using a hand mixer)and beat for 1 1/2 minutesto aerate and develop cake's structure. Scrape down the sides. Gradually add egg mixture in 3 batches, mixing for 20 seconds after each. Add melted chocolate and beat to incorporate

Pour batter into prepared pans. Bake for 25-35 minutes until tester inserted near center comes out clean and the cake springs back when lightly touched. The cakes should start to shrink from the sides of the pans onnly after removal from the oven. 
Cool cakes in pans for ten minutes. Looken the sides and invert onto greased racks. Reinvert so tops are up and cool completely.

“Oh my dear. When has cake ever been for hunger? It's for flavor, and, in this case, comfort.” - Meena van Praag

I believe our world needs new stories. what if those stories lie curled within us like seeds? This is An Inviting Space to experience where and how we might discover, recover and nurture the secret, magical gardens of soul day by day. Starting where we are, as we are.

(Not quite ready to subscribe, but want to show a little gratitude? You can always buy me a coffee.)

Your attention and time are the true gifts. Thank you. xoS