outside as a path forward

letting things go

“even though this newsletter’s About page says, “look I can’t promise how often I’m going to write stuff,” I’m still so conditioned to try and deliver value to everyone at all times that I’ve been imposing my own deadlines, failing to meet them, and generally feeling continuous low-key anxiety …” Emily McDowell

That quote could be mine as well. If my about page doesn’t say what she said—trust me—it will. For years, Monday was THE DAY for writing. If somehow I was experiencing writer’s block or even more accurately, PDD (procrastination distraction disorder, yes I made that up), you—dear reader—held me accountable to that Monday agreement. If The Pie Loop wasn’t out by 10pm people used to start emailing asking if I was ok, or if maybe somehow they had been unsubscribed. We had an active relationship, you and me. Over the last more-than-a-year our relationship has been strained. Grief will do that. I miss us. I’m sorry.

In working on Pie & Mighty 2.0, I’ve been reflecting on what worked, what was fun, easy, and light. In the aftermath of closing the shop, it’s easy to wallow and only feel the hard, sad, not fun bits. But I am actively mining for joy, for that shimmery gold that was at the heart of what we created together. Through much of this journey our internal slogan was just start where you are and do the best with what you’ve got. What we had in the beginning was just a whole lot of dreams and gumption. We did not know what we did not know. Over the course of six years we found, collected, and learned—by accidents both happy and not—what we needed to run a successful pie and joy operation. And within 30 days in July 2022, we sold nearly all of it. We let it go.

A friend posted this other day:

When I don’t know where to go or what my next move is, there is always one place I know I can go: OUTSIDE. Little known fact: most of what Pie & Mighty did started in conversations between me and Ratchet, walking the paths beside the Minnehaha creek. We lived blocks from from the creek and nearly always found answers in our steps. The trees rustled and whispered their truth no matter the season. The water changed form—liquid, solid, gas—but always she was there, going with her flowing. We moved away from her in the winter of 2020. Gosh so much changed that year.

Obviously I don’t blame our move. None of us was ready for a pandemic. Many of us were actually quite ready for an uprising though the reasons of why at that time, in that neighborhood, in our city still seem so murky. In August 2020 another loss hit. A friend—the kind you call family—died suddenly, leaving a gaping hole. She named Pie & Mighty.

Now I know what I knew but forgot, again: nothing lasts. Everything, every(dang)one has a life-cycle and it always, no matter what, ends. So what shall we do knowing this? I think LIVE, in capital letters. Let it all in, the whole panoply of life. Have and share and create and give away love in all its forms. Sometimes you’ll have it, other times you’ll be in need. We must share. We belong to each other, you and me.

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DANCE BREAK

It feels good, so go on, stand up. Wave your hips back and forth until your body is ready to let it rip.

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So pie.

You may be wondering when and where you can get your hands on some. For the next few months I’m letting myself get back to that playful place. Here are some spots I’ll be with pie. You’re invited.

This weekend I am headed north to Lutsen and Grand Marais with some of my best girlfriends. It’s a semi-annual trip we’ve done a number of times and it is no exaggeration to say I’ve been looking forward to this weekend for two whole years. He doesn’t know it yet, unless he reads this before we get there. I’ll be bringing handy dandy pies for my friend Kristopher and his customers. He has a beautiful shop called Upstate. You should visit and buy beautiful things from his shop. We’ll be there on Sunday.

Next, I’m making pie for Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church, my quasi-faith community who doesn’t know I call them that yet. They are gathering on Wednesday, October 25 for a dinner, presentation, and conversation facilitated by Andrew Root about his book called “When Church Stops Working.” If church or faith isn’t your thing, warning: this event will be overtly churchy. But they really are the best people, and Heather’s is catering, so you know it will be delicious. If this interests you at all, RSVP here.

Finally, a thing I am most excited about: I’ve offered to a friend who is participating in the NEMAA Fall Open Studios that I’d bring pie to enhance what she already has planned. She is beautiful, her space is beautiful, and what she and her partner are showing is nothing short of incredible. If you’re going to Fall Open Studios, please put us on your map.

After that, we are staring at Thanksgiving. I am taking a different approach this year, but not yet solid on the details. Play first. Details will come. Pie love you and THANK YOU for reading and cheering me on.

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Point your camera at the above and then follow the link that appears.
It’s safe and fun, promise.