15| New Year's Reset: Germinating >>> Goals.

Happy new year, internet friends!!!

first printed picture of 2023, ft. tumeric tea with ginger and honey (with extra stray lavender on the side from my morning bowl).

I do not set not one goal in January.

I am going to cut straight to it: the productivity surrounding New Years is entirely made up. It truly does not make one penny of sense. Friends: we are in the middle of winter. Everything around me is still damp and dreary and at endless night. In the northern hemisphere, we are weeks (and weeks) away from having an amount of daylight that is non-offensive, much less sufficient. I am still set to rest¹. Now feels like a time where I should be cocooning, wrapping my consciousness in loving comfort, hunkering down with soup. Now does not feel like the time of year where I dedicate precious Survive The Winter energy to… goal setting.

Me myself, being a cynical bitch, I’m basically always like “…capitalism.²” The production and endless growth that capitalism requires necessitates that we be in this endless stage of blooming. There are no seasons of guaranteed rest. The sun does not set on the British empire and all that. I cannot imagine why now would be the time to kick one’s ass into full gear unless it was the ever-present hand of compulsory labor, manufacturing a reason to pump yourself full of artificial energy and get back to work. Otherwise, I cannot imagine why January would be known as this month full of goal setting rather than a month of rest, reflection, and reset.

Geminating >>> Goal Setting.

However. I don’t ignore that we are in beginning of something— especially with the energy of renewal everyone puts into the air at this time of year. I can’t easily disregard the feeling of newness that is so addictive and illusionary. Time in the Gregorian calendar is absolutely an illusion, sure— it is still an illusion we have etched into a worldwide phenomena. Just as much as I believe our world shapes humanity, humanity shapes our world. I recognize the new year while understanding that I will not be blooming a damn thing until March (when my personal new year kicks in). All I do during this time is focus my breath on sinking deep into the earth. I bundle my softest self and survive the winter. I move slowly and take special notice of what moves me to action at this time.

A couple of notes on how I see the new year:

• I treat the new year like a new, fresh out the womb baby. Why would I spend this time plotting every last breath this baby would take? A fool’s errand. This year (2023) is an egg that just hatched. We just met. How can I plan for something (or someone) I don’t know yet?

• December houses the winter solstice, the beginning of winter. The harvest really just ended. We are a maximum of two weeks into a months long season where (for us in the northern hemisphere), nothing grows. My body feels the shifting breath of the world whether capitalism wants me to ignore it or not. How do I disregard the meditative state all around us? Even water moves so slow that it stops. I cannot imagine what would compel me about the natural world to spring into action.

• Goals are about the harvest. You are calling forth what you would like to collect and what you would like to fulfill. In goal setting we are asking for, setting out for, planning for, and receiving the goodness we fill our cornucopias with. There is only so much planning I can do for harvest when the ground isn’t even available for tilling yet. The earth and the sower need time to rest and be still.

• The harvest just concluded. My cornucopia from 2022 isn’t even empty yet! I am still reflecting, taking inventory, making sure there are no parts of myself that I did not account for. I love this process— the keeping and collecting of myself. One day I am going to have Courtnee Futch on this podcast so she can tell you all these magical words she told me: "My love language to myself is archival.” Brilliant. Ugh. Why would I rush myself through January, a month where it is crucial that my storehouses are in order?

• I am not a new person because our collective version of time has toddled forward another step. All the same ways I was growing a short two weeks ago are present with me here. I spent November and December moving slow. An object at rest tends to stay at rest and I cannot be compelled to get up and move for absolutely nothing.

• I was already growing things. The times where you see me least active on the internet are the times where I am growing, learning, and changing the most. My seeds are germinating. Roots I did not realize I was capable of thunder forth and make a path for themselves. Frozen earth bends to my asking. Nothing scratches the surface yet, because this is not the time to break the ice above ground. Each element is allowed to have their time. Water, ancient and endlessly giving, has not rushed me once. I do not rush the water, no matter how thin the ice is.

• There is this gorgeous amnesia that happens every winter, where I am so shocked at my ability to grow long, thick, spiraling roots I cannot even imagine what the shoots will look like. Tomorrow comes better than the last day.

If you are the kind that does not feel properly defrosted until like… the end of pisces season, join me. I am not a winter planner and I never will be. Even in astrological systems, we are in the middle of the dying and dead earth. Things don’t start again until March (and that is more than okay). In 2023 (and every year), I will resist the urge to count my harvest before I’ve had the opportunity to plant my seeds. All I can do in the wintertime is germinate and root myself down in what I want for myself over this next season of life.

Slowly.

I am also a basic bitch so…here is a New Year’s rebrand (lol).

Instead of the logo art here is my friend Leana and I graduating together. [she’s the person making the logo lol]

The name of this newsletter and podcast I have come to love so much is undergoing a name change. The Garden Space is a metaphysical and personal concept near to my heart, my psyche, my creativity and it’s not going anywhere. I really do conceive of myself as a little home of growing things. I will never not have (and will always be) a garden space. I’m still going to mention it; the frameworks themselves are not going anywhere.

It’s just a term not quite big enough to capture all what I want to do with this space. My thoughts and words drift to action, not just . You’re going to hear me say this a lot this year, but love is the feeling that compels you to action as well as the action itself. For me, it’s not enough to just study the theories or metaphysical embodiments of love. I need to talk about them in praxis.

Black feminist thought and world-making is the cornerstone of my praxis. Enter: threadings.

Threading (n.):

(1) a long, thin strand of cotton, nylon, or other

(2) a continued theme or idea

(3) a traditional way of styling and stretching African hair

Black feminism, love studies, and other things keeping me together.

Does this make sense? I hope so.

Thank you all for being here for the first iteration of my online authorship. I wait in excited, sweet anticipation of what I bloom.

conclusions:

I am not a happy person and my seasonal depression did not magically evaporate because of the Gregorian calendar. It’s January. We are in the thick of winter. The days are getting longer but it’s painfully and achingly slow. Why would this be the time I mobilize into action on behalf of my future self? I have never (ever) looked back and regretting resting when my body was tired. Literally never in my life. Time moves slowly in January and I too am moving slowly. I don’t know why we have culturally decreed this as the time to begin scheduling each one of your breaths for the next calendar year. You cannot stop me from soaking in this rest.

Reject modernity!! Embrace tradition!!

And to you, whosoever is listening to this and soaking all this up with me: I speak many delicious afternoon naps on you. I wish you comfort food and comfortable places to rest your body and mind. I hope the work of your day passes through your hands with ease.

much love.

ismatu gwendolyn

PS. Some loose updates:

I am going to be critically analyzing the phrase “poor people don’t deserve to have children” for the entire month of January on TikTok (and Instagram). That’s gonna be a series of essay son the substack. Plus (huge plus!!) it’s attached to a fundraiser I am doing for my family. We’re at $15k and just getting started! I am overwhelmed and grateful with support! Follow along!

We are still talking about Belly of the Beast by Da’shaun L. Harrison (and supplementing with Beastly by Alex Flinn every Sunday at 4pm PST. I’m going to be coming back to those essays after I finish fundraising).

Link to Bookclub:

Topic: Beauty is Bad!! The Bookclub

Time: This is a recurring meeting Meet anytime

Join Zoom Meeting

https://uchicago.zoom.us/j/93123534631?pwd=SEtMazhLVTRRMitxRHRhZlNxUzVWUT09

Meeting ID: 931 2353 4631

Passcode: 082399

Then after that is content about Malcolm X (ahahahah) and Beyoncé (ahahahhahahhahahahahha). I am celebrating Black History Month by making the internet an unlivable place for me hooray!

Thank you all for rocking with me. Idc how difficult it gets there are people that believe in me and my words and I’ma show out for y’all. Stripper’s honor³.

<3 ig

1. as opposed to being set to laser.

2. said to the tune of “…dinkleberg.”

3. lmao also i’m coming out as a sex worker after (or maybe during) the fundraiser!! we are… gonna see how this goes!