the right shaped thing

is always round

It’s happened a few times this week. I’ve been out in the world, something that seems awfully hard when it’s the annual The Impossibility of February (thank you for that beautiful reminder, Jeni). Someone will come up and say, “hey, are you that pie lady?” or “are you from Pie & Mighty?” What actually happens to my body next I can’t be sure, but I think it looks like a smile—huge, like goofy huge—happy recognition with a twinkle in my eyeballs, and a physical stance that says oh-my-gosh-I-want-to-hug-you-but-you-were-just-saying-hello-right?

Of all the things I miss about Pie & Mighty: the storefront, it’s the weekly rhythm of seeing the community on the sidewalk outside of 36th and Chicago and seeing you through your writing—emails and lottery form notes—that I miss most. I used to tell people all the time whether you want pie or not, please come down if you need a hug or a friendly hello. There was always more than enough I-see-you-you-see-me beauty and joy on offer.

This past weekend I bumped into Kate. I was making my way around the enchanted forest at the luminary loppet, and her face was suddenly illuminated by an ice sculpture that captured both of us in a moment of awe. After the “hey are you…?” part, she shared that she is a also pie maker. Down we went into a rabbit hole of delight, talking about getting people together and finding ways to share food and lives. This is what the world needs right now.

That conversation has been on my mind since that night and now I think I’ve uncovered a Pie & Mighty founding flaw. We could never, ever, EVER make enough pie for the people who needed it. And we had a really limited way of knowing who needed the pie. You know who knows if someone really needs pie? YOU. You are the ones who know, you see the hidden moments. You know who is celebrating, who is hurting, who is lonely, and who needs a kind face. Some people don’t even know they need pie. But you know.

We (all of us) got all whipped up in the busy buzz of it all. The needs (more pie!) started sliding down the slippery slope into wants (ALL the pie!), and the hungry hungry capitalism-pillar, with its supplying and demanding, oh it got ugly. And like a vortex of sucking your joy center, suddenly we’re solving pie problems instead of focusing on each other, sharing, love, and enoughness. My God, how did we get here?

There is a note on the back side of one of my dad’s old business cards. It hangs on the visor of the pie van so I can see it as often as there is piercing sunlight. It says “You can’t solve a problem with the same mind that created it!” (My spouse reminds me this is a rephrasing of Einstein.) I think we were trying to solve problems with old thinking. That and some things are impossible to see when they are so damn close. In the process of grieving over the last many months, I’ve come to believe that there is a way forward.

Pie & Mighty has always been a community. Before, we (the company) made all the pie for you (the community). But We are a We—all of us—with no them. We learned the business model of seller and buyer isn’t sustainable for the kind of pie we want to make—affordable, available, accessible, really freaking good—and the difference we want to make in our world. We learned so much, and now it’s time to teach. We have to share what we know, so it can spread far and wide, beyond where we ever thought possible. The dream is not dead. We just built the wrong shaped thing.

I am excited about what is next. And I’m excited to think out loud with you here.
I don’t know much, but I know I love you, and that is probably all I need to know, for now.

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text from the beautiful Bryonie. Subscribe to her occasional newsletters here.

a few joy-filled (and other complicated feelings) items of note

1. I loved this podcast episode so much. Ok, it’s true I know the person being interviewed, and if you asked Nora on the street if she knew who I was, she might say yes. The relationship between mother and daughter, of family in general here just made me howl with laughter. And cry a little.

2. My friend Holly made a hat. And she made a pattern so you can make the hat if you’re into that sort of thing. Here is what it looks like on me. I know this will tip the scales on you wanting it. Don’t hold back.

   

3. I am going to offer dandy pie packs and a few whole pies for Pi Day this year. I’ll send something out in The Pie Loop with more detail, but as a tiny bonus for subscribing here, you’ll get access to a pre-order form. Woooof. I feel a little woozy just writing that. But it’s time to try.

4. Andrea (freaking) Gibson. This whole interview is beautiful. It’s 20 some minutes, so if you don’t have that kind of time (you do, but sometimes carving something out because some person on the internet suggested it is hard), check out instagram and listen to a few poems with squirrel friend.

5. A button, because even though it doesn’t give you pie, it may just remind you of some sweet snowy joy, and perhaps that is just perfect for a day like today.

a p.s. for those of you who are paid subscribers

If you are not a paid subscriber, please skip down to the last two sentences.

I haven’t gotten to all of you yet, but you need to know (you will hear from me personally) how much of a big deal your support is. THANK YOU. I’ll spare you the details, but this process of grief has been hard. It has pushed some old buttons and sent me spiraling down holes I thought I’d filled in long ago.

Your financial contribution is one way you are showing up and saying I believe in this, and you. If something should change for you, and you need to make different financial choices, please know how much I UNDERSTAND and trust the universe to handle all of the details.

There is enough, always, and how wonderful it is to experience both sides of that enoughness. Thank you.