The Invisible Thread, issue 3

A new zine just dropped, and it's all about the things that keep us grounded.

It’s new zine day!

And also my birthday! Love it when a plan comes together.

(Yeah, right. I’m a Cancer not a Virgo. I build this plane while flying it. ✈️ )

Longtime readers know that I publish a print zine twice a year that I send to subscribers as a way to say thanks for their continued support and to create something physical out of this very digital project.

The first issue — about birthdays — came out a year ago, followed by a second one on the theme of fabric over the winter months.

Inspired by my recent trip to Sweden, where we met a few dozen long-lost cousins, this summer’s issue is about the idea of roots. I wrote a new story about having fika with our ancestors on the land where they lived 150 years ago and paired it with pieces about Clarksville, the First Americans Museum, and several other essays that will hopefully make you think about your own roots in a new way.

I love the tactile process of putting these zines together, starting with the collages that I make when I’m just getting started all the way through designing the zine in Canva and then printing and stuffing them into something like 150 envelopes.

I’m incredibly honored to get to share this endeavor with you and hope that it brings you a little joy during these very unsettled times.

Speaking of unsettled times, I must say that last week’s newsletter about the near-miss of the hurricane became chillingly more relevant after this weekend’s news.

As I said in that piece: A near-miss absolutely hits in ways we could not — and, I fear, cannot — yet imagine.

But I’m trying to stay focused on what I’m contributing to the world, including this zine. It was fun putting the last touches on the zine over the weekend and warming up for today’s birthday.

RELATED: Happy birthdays, sad birthdays and all the stories in between

Last week, I fulfilled a childhood dream of seeing New Kids on the Block with my friend, the Rev. Erin Walter, who was the perfect companion for this church-like experience at Circuit of the Americas.

I spent Sunday morning at Big Gay Church, a weekly yoga class that typically involves spontaneous group singing and quips from the instructor that make me cry on the mat.

Today started at another sanctuary: Barton Springs, where I think I’ll start every birthday going forward. With those soaring pecan trees and their famously deep taproots, the trees at the springs provide steadiness in the storm.

They are so unwavering, we think they’ll always be there.

RELATED: Birthday wishes and grandma kisses

I think that’s why we’re not so good at losing trees. People publicly mourned when the city had to cut down an aging pecan tree at Barton Springs last September. I remember my mom and her brothers crying when the giant tree they grew up under at their childhood home had to come down. I don’t have to stretch very far in my brain to recall the pain of seeing all those fallen trees after the recent ice storms in Austin.

But those trees that have been providing such comfort to all in the fellowship of Barton Spring were there today, a day that I set out to make special in my own ways.

What a gift that each of us get a day for ourselves.

RELATED: The missing link: A birthday gift for the ages

Last year, I had a bit of an extravagant birthday with a friend in Mexico. This year, I’m celebrating a lot closer to home but in ways that nourish those roots I’ve been thinking about over the past couple of months working on this zine.

Thank you all so much for being part of a world that takes time to notice the trees and think about their roots, a community that celebrates what each of us contributes to the world, a village that carves out paths of understanding and self-reflection, even on the most difficult days.

Avery and I are heading out tomorrow on an epic road trip to visit my mom in Missouri, go to the family cemetery in Kentucky, and see the shores of the Great Lakes, so my next post will be from the road.

I hope that you all enjoy the zines, and if you’re in the mood to upgrade, I’ll make sure you get a copy when I get home.

May we all find comfort in something that helps us feel rooted right now.

In deep gratitude,

Addie

Recently on The Invisible Thread:

The near miss still hits

The Feminist Kitchen: An Appreciation

IKEA is for dreamers

The day the bees won