Living in a season of change
... and writing a newsletter that reflects that
It’s been a minute since I last sent out a newsletter, not that most people notice the absence of something like this. When I last wrote to you, I had COVID. After that, I went to music camp and came home with a cold that lingered through half the summer. And then, you know how it goes… fall arrived, and with it the rush of everything demanding attention at once.
Now here I am, standing on the threshold of year’s end, thinking about all I did — and didn’t — do in 2025.
My word at the beginning of the year was Courage. Given the election that had just taken place, and the shitshow which seemed destined to follow, I figured I would need it. But I took that word further than my political outrage and managed to put myself out in the world a lot more than usual — giving workshops, playing the fiddle, taking on some tough non-profit work, and pushing my own creative boundaries.
This whole last year has been one continual pep talk to myself to get out there and just *do the thing*, and it has paid off in building my confidence to lead workshops, make art, and even invest in a professional-grade violin to support growth in my playing capacity. But all that being *out there* and organizing all the things, has also taken me away from this writing space, my meditation practice, and some of the quieter rituals of my life. I’m already looking at 2026 and thinking that it’s going to be a year with less sowing and more tending to what was planted in 2025.
My Gabriola Island Field School project is one thing I plan to carry forward into the new year, though not so much as an in-person activity. Instead, I want to take the work of the past twelve months and share it here as part of my newsletter offering. While I’m not sure how the field school gatherings and emails impacted the thinking or creative work of the friends who participated, the process deeply sharpened my own attention to seasonal rhythms and ritual in both my personal and creative life.
In this next iteration, Field School — as expressed through Comfort for the Apocalypse — will focus on transitions through the year and through a lifetime, weaving together what I developed in 2025 with new work that reflects the season of life I am now travelling through.
In nature, as in life, nothing new emerges without a kind of apocalyptic ending. Autumn strips the trees bare, winter browns the fields, and decay breaks down what was to make room for what will be. When I think of apocalypse as an ecological process rather than a dramatic event, it is simply another way of expressing change…. a necessary scraping back of the old to allow new shoots to emerge. What I hope to continue building with this newsletter is a space for reflection, ritual, and creativity in those times of change — that is the comfort part of my newsletter title — tools for supporting personal and social transition.
As I was writing this, Oliver Burkeman’s bi-weekly newsletter The Imperfectionist, dropped into my inbox. In it he says, “When you’re procrastinating on a project, wondering why your outwardly successful career doesn’t feel as vibrant as it could, or feeling stuck on a difficult life-choice, it’s worth asking if you’ve forgotten the importance of building your days, as far as you’re able, around what actually interests you.“ This question of interests could not be more timely, as this is exactly my aim in repositioning of my writing and work for the coming year.
If all goes according to plan (and I do have a bit of a content plan, mapped from my field school work onto this newsletter), you’ll be hearing from me more frequently. The work here will guide my own practice and planning, so in many ways this is as much about keeping myself on track as anything else. We’ll see what proves sustainable as it unfolds.
For now, I move into December with a desire to let go of organizing for a bit after a busy fall, while also knowing the holidays will rouse me to action for at least some of the days ahead. This season always feels like a paradox to me…. just as I’m ready to lie down for the proverbial long winter’s nap, there is one last spark of light to tend before bed!
December recipe: Mexican Hot Chocolate
When I was 19, I worked behind the counter at Java Coffeehouse (formerly La Bohème) in Victoria, BC. If you spent any time in that city in the ’80s and ’90s, you know what a one-of-a-kind place it was—replete with tables made of broken mirror, clouds of smoke, and baristas with big personalities. Among other fancy drinks, we made our hot chocolate with Ibarra, a Mexican chocolate spiced just so. We hand-grated it and melted it into milk frothed nearly to scalding on the espresso machine. Topped with whipped cream and chocolate curls, it was comfort in a cup, especially on wet winter days.
You can purchase Ibarra and other Mexican chocolate tablets online or at your local Latin American grocer, or you can try this take with ingredients you likely already have around.
4 cups milk (dairy or dairy-free)
3 tablespoons cocoa powder
1-2 tablespoons maple syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
Optional for more warmth: ¼ teaspoon chilli powder
4 ounces bittersweet, chocolate grated or finely chopped
Warm it up. In a medium saucepan, combine the milk, cocoa powder, maple syrup, vanilla, cinnamon, and a pinch of chili. Heat gently over medium, stirring until everything is smooth and lump-free.
Melt in the chocolate. Add the finely chopped chocolate and whisk for 3–5 minutes, until your hot chocolate is done.
Serve. Whipped cream and chocolate shavings optional but for the win.
In the studio
For the Field School this year, I handmade four “books” which consisted of a zine, a stab-bound pamphlet, an accordian-fold booklet, and then finally this folio with 16 winter-themed creative prompt cards inside. This field school project has been such an interesting challenge for me creatively - both in terms of content and presentation. For this folio, I created 5 mixed media collages that were copied and then cut down to size by hand to create both the folio and the creative prompt cards. I’m pretty happy with how these turned out, and with the fact that I’m done with all the field school output now so I can re-focus on other studio things for a bit.
I am considering an offering of a set of creative or journal prompt cards for sale in the new year if I can figure out how to scale up a little bit. Will see how that manifests.
Three things
Of the many things I’ve attended on this island this recently, for Creating in Dangerous Times, by Celestse Nazeli Snowber was one of the most unexpected. In under an hour she danced, read poetry, and engaged in academic discourse with the assembled audience. This small collection of poetic thoughts on creativity in this world is a charming flicker of brightness, just like Celeste herself.
Just in time for holiday listening comes along Ruby Singh and the Future Ancestors with their genre-bending collab Celestial Libations featuring legendary Memphis-born griot Arthur Flowers, weaving blues, gospel, hip hop, and storytelling into a mythic sonic ritual. This is some amazing good vibes for the darkness of winter and I’ve got it on repeat.
If you’re looking to reflect on the year behind you and gently orient yourself toward whatever 2026 might bring, the free Year Compass is a wonderful tool. It’s less about rigid goal-setting and more about pausing, reviewing where you’ve been, and opening up space to imagine where you might want to go next.
And finally….
I’m back! Again! And again and again! Goddamn I am not at all consistent am I? But I’ll keep trying if you keep showing up to read when I do.
I’ve also reinvigorated my more-personal blog at http://red-cedar.ca - were I’m posting about the pedestrian things in my life. If you want to hop over there, I do recommend my recent post about my new fiddle because that’s one of the most exciting things going on at the moment.
Please like and share this newsletter if it resonated with you—it encourages me to keep going and we all need encouragement right?
Thanks Megan, as always there is plenty of substance to chew on in your newsletter and I'm always left with a headful of thoughts. Your focus and agenda are like twin lasers. From someone whose creative activity is akin to a catherine wheel spewing sparks it is both inspiring and intimidating. I would love to hear your fiddle playing sometime in the fantastic future.
I'm going to link to that Oliver Burkeman post in my next newsletter, too! It's so basic but so important and often overlooked: trust what you're drawn to. Trust what you're interested in. Follow your nose. It's the way to go!
Thanks for another thoughtful post 👀