Happy Sunday, friends. I hope this newsletter finds you letting the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Thanks for your patience as I’ve pushed through these past few weeks. I try to write vaguely about politics on this platform, but the things that make up “politics” also inform every single thing I write.
That’s why the day after the election felt, to be frank, like a macabre New Year’s.
A day that marks a before and an after, but with a sinister twist.
A moment burned in the timeline of my life.
A stark reminder that grief cuts deep.
A sadness that requires my full attention.
In the two weeks since, I’ve had countless conversations with people about how they are responding to this not-so-new information about this place where we live and this society that we live in.
I ask them how they are doing. I fumble as I try to explain how I’ve been doing by telling the story of The Day After, when I opened all the windows in my house and played loud music and cleaned out my closet, getting rid of dozens of fancy shirts I used to wear to the office and dresses that no longer fit.
I cried by myself, and I cried on the phone with friends.
I reminded them to drink lots of water as I licked my own parched lips.
But as I threw my hands up in despair and finally got rid of clothes I’d been meaning to get rid of for years, I felt my feet find some traction.
I was sad, yes, but I had work to do.
Not just any work. Work Work. Capital “w” Work, the kind of work I’ve been writing about for a few years now.
In my little world, I do that work through my writing, but also tarot readings, dog walks, ghostwriting, and business consulting, where I talk as much about inner growth as how to pitch a story to a newspaper journalist.
I get paid for that work, but when I’m doing it, I feel the same as when I’m doing unpaid work, like volunteering to deliver Meals on Wheels or running my Buy Nothing group on Facebook.
It’s all part of The Work I Am Here To Do.
As I grieved, I felt defensive about that work.
A thought kept coming back to me: I’ll be damned if I give away my energy to anything that takes me away from that work.
Sometimes the bafflement returns. The anger and anxiety. The fear. The disappointment. The irresistible urge to get on a soapbox and elaborate about why someone else is wrong and I am right.

When those frustrations swell, I am trying to train myself to feel that pain and then use it as a reminder that I have an inner purpose that includes a dedication to finding moments of joy, no matter what is happening.
If I lose sight of that, then they really win.
In a stroke of divine timing, the week after the election, I was scheduled to do a final training session with Drive a Senior ATX, an organization that helps older folks get from place to place.
I’ve wanted to volunteer for this group for a few years now, and a couple of months ago, I decided to carve out an hour or two from my schedule to help my neighbors get a haircut or go to a dialysis appointment.
As I talked with the volunteer coordinator, I felt her passion for her work. She was hired two years ago, but she’s been involved as a volunteer— with her young daughters — for longer than that. We bonded over this service-oriented life philosophy, which started for her when she was in college and moved away from her family in Puerto Rico.
“When I started helping others, I didn’t have to worry about being taken care of,” she said. “We never went hungry. All my needs somehow got met.”
This year, she’s going the extra step to coordinate a massive cookie delivery operation where volunteers like me will bring a dozen cookies to each of the more than 500 Drive a Senior ATX clients next month.
I signed up to deliver to five dozen.
I can’t do it all, but I can do my part.
What about you? What are the truths helping you get through? How are you moving through this time of particular uncertainty? When do your wheels feel like they come back down to earth? What activates your center of knowing?
These are the kinds of questions that have been coming up in my tarot readings.
Just a few days after the election, I read tarot for about a dozen people attending a cookbook launch party for TikTok star Justine Doiron, who drew a crowd of fans eager to find something meaningful in this chaotic time.
I wasn’t surprised that the cards gave people an excuse to talk about parts of their lives they don’t usually talk about, including this idea of a deeper understanding of “work.”
For almost three hours, I heard people share their thoughts about what gets them through tough times and how their inner work keeps them grounded when it feels like things are starting to slip away.
I love the idea that we all have truths that guide us through our darkest hours.
I am sending this newsletter on a cloudy Sunday afternoon with an extra helping of love and gratitude. This newsletter has become an invaluable space to sort out and work through ideas that I know are meaningful during times like these.
The Invisible Thread helps make those things visible for me, and I hope they do for you, too.
Back soon with more,
Addie
Thank you, Addie. I'm also doing my bit to help take care of folks. And, there's always the local music scene which always brings me hope and peace. Hugs...