My heart almost stood still
A letter from Helen Keller to the New York Symphony Orchestra
93 Seminole Avenue,
Forest Hills, L. I.,
February 2nd, 1924.
The New York Symphony Orchestra,
New York City
Dear Friends:
I have the joy of being able to tell you that, though deaf and blind, I spent a glorious hour last night listening over the radio to Beethoven’s “Ninth Symphony.” I do not mean to say that I “heard” the music in the sense that other people heard it; and I do not know whether I can make you understand how it was possible for me to derive pleasure from the symphony. It was a great surprise to myself. I had been reading in my magazine for the blind of the happiness that the radio was bringing to the sightless everywhere. I was delighted to know that the blind had gained a new source of enjoyment; but I did not dream that I could have any part in their joy. Last night, when the family was listening to your wonderful rendering of the immortal symphony someone suggested that I put my hand on the receiver and see if I could get any of the vibrations. He unscrewed the cap, and I lightly touched the sensitive diaphragm. What was my amazement to discover that I could feel, not only the vibrations, but also the impassioned rhythm, the throb and the urge of the music! The intertwined and intermingling vibrations from different instruments enchanted me. I could actually distinguish the cornets, the roll of the drums, deep-toned violas and violins singing in exquisite unison. How the lovely speech of the violins flowed and plowed over the deepest tones of the other instruments! When the human voice leaped up trilling from the surge of harmony, I recognized them instantly as voices. I felt the chorus grow more exultant, more ecstatic, upcurving swift and flame-like, until my heart almost stood still. The women’s voices seemed an embodiment of all the angelic voices rushing in a harmonious flood of beautiful and inspiring sound. The great chorus throbbed against my fingers with poignant pause and flow. Then all the instruments and voices together burst forth—an ocean of heavenly vibration—and died away like winds when the atom is spent, ending in a delicate shower of sweet notes.
Of course, this was not “hearing” but I do know that the tones and harmonies conveyed to me moods of great beauty and majesty. I also sensed, or thought I did, the tender sounds of nature that sing into my hand—swaying reeds and winds and the murmur of streams. I have never been so enraptured before by a multitude of tone-vibrations.
As I listened, with darkness and melody, shadow and sound filling all the room, I could not help remembering that the great composer who poured forth such a flood of sweetness into the world was deaf like myself. I marvelled at the power of his quenchless spirit by which out of his pain he wrought such joy for others—and there I sat, feeling with my hand the magnificent symphony which broke like a sea upon the silent shores of his soul and mine.
Let me thank you warmly for all the delight which your beautiful music has brought to my household and to me. I want also to thank Station WEAF for the joy they are broadcasting in the world.
With kindest regards and best wishes, I am,
Sincerely yours,
Helen Keller
(credit: Shaun Usher, via Letters of Note)
Course correct and keep going.
Did you know that an Apollo rocket is actually on course only 2-3 percent of the time? At least 97% of the time it takes to get from the earth to the moon, it's off course. The astronauts know this, accept this fact as part of the process and are constantly course correcting.
Remember: You don’t have to be 100% exactly in alignment every single day. You just have to keep trying and keep adjusting.
January: One Line at a Time
Image: Edward & Josephine Hopper's New York Notes, Noted by Jillian Hess
January 1
2024 Goals: Finish what you start. Build community. Eat more protein.
January 2
Dan, Hugo and Sophia were nearly stranded on the side of the mountain during a snowstorm. Dan was pretty nervous but focused on getting chains on the tires. Hugo made it his mission to find food, water and blankets in case they got stranded. Sophia called home and asked me to plug in the curling iron because she was going to be running late for the nightclub and didn’t want to have to wait for the curling iron to heat up when she got home.
January 3
Yesterday was World Introvert Day, which I didn’t realise because I spent 10 hours writing in my journal and planning a solo trip to Tenerife.
January 4
It’s downright blustery. Icy whitecaps are pounding the waterfront and last night the deck chairs flew off the terrace and into the bushes. We’ve eaten all the leftovers in the house and are subsisting on stale bread (pain perdu!) and coffee. This made for a delicious dinner and breakfast, but I think it’s time for me to bundle up and venture into the village for provisions. And by provisions, I mean cheese.
January 5
Kelly helped Dad sort out his phone so that his Face ID works. But somehow he got it in his head that the phone takes your ‘pitcher’ each time you unlock it. So now every time he needs to use his phone, he sits up properly and smiles his best smile. It’s the cutest thing ever.
January 6
All my clothes smell like cheese.
January 7
A few weeks ago, I re-started my blog so that I could practice sharing creative work. Sort of like a daily drip of creativity. So the pipes don’t freeze. And tomorrow I’m posting a substack for the first time in a long time. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, literally no one cares.
January 8
Drove from Annecy to Calais, listening to various podcasts and books I discovered Joanna Penn and now I am AI Positive.
January 9
Slept at the Holiday Inn Calais. Míša barfed every two hours all night long. The hotel room was carpeted and she refused to go into the tiled bathroom. So each time she started to gag, I had to quickly get dressed, take the elevator downstairs, walk her through the lobby and across the driveway so that she could puke in the grass. Then we went back upstairs and repeated the cycle 90 minutes later. All. Night. Long.
January 10
I attended a workshop today where the presenter read from her script for a full hour, barely looking up. At one point she read the following advice: When you go into a meeting, don’t read directly from your notes. Make it more of a conversation.
January 11
Overheard at the cafe:
The mosquitos love me, right mum?
They bite me with a little needle on the end of their nose, right mum?
We need to spray me with stinky spray, right mum?
So that I don’t taste so delicious, right mum?
January 12
This was the best night I’ve had in a very long time! I attended a literary salon at a friend’s home. Pulitzer Prize-winning author Eliza Griswold spoke about her career and the craft of writing books. God, if only I could do something like this every week… I loved it so much.
January 13
Went to a co-writing session in Waterloo at a place called The Glitch. I wrote some words. If I delete them all and start over, I might have something.
January 14
This morning, I was running late to yoga. I grabbed a pair of leggings and realised too late they were Sasha’s (size XXS). Once I got them on, I couldn’t get them off, so I had to go to yoga wearing them and as the class went on, I got hotter and hotter and my legs looked like two sausages about to bust through their casings.
January 15
Went to Pilates at 8am. The instructor was a mean, sharp stick of a woman with swollen lips who played rave music at full volume. I asked her to turn it down, which she only pretended to do, and then 5 minutes later turned it even louder.
January 16
I fell into a rabbit hole this morning, lost all track of time and nearly missed my hair appointment. The reason was Sarah Miller. She’s a little bit like David Sedaris, if David Sedaris was a woman and not obsessed with garbage collecting and taxidermy.
January 17
Today was the greyest of grey. London looked cold and felt colder. Soph and I tried to find beauty by traipsing all the way across town to attend the London Art Fair. But honestly, we were both tired and cold and our hearts weren’t in it. We walked around for about an hour, had coffee and schlepped ourselves home again.
January 18
Last night on an LWS Gold Circle call, I shared my Query Letter with an agent who was incredibly complimentary and yet couldn’t have been less interested in my idea. Oh well. The reminder: everyone’s trying to sell a memoir. If you don’t have a platform, you better have a clear and specific story to tell.
January 19
Kelly is such an inspiration to me. January is hard for her (too), so she’s doing a personal challenge: every day in January she’s doing something that scares her! Not like, jump out of an airplane scary, but you know, something do-able. For example, she’s taken a lot of cold showers. Or gone the entire day without screens… She did her first hot yoga class! She went line dancing (alone)! And - all this without drinking any alcohol. Which is also part of her January plan. I’m super impressed.
January 20
Lately my mindset has been January sucks, London is depressing and writing is boring and hard. I need to flip the script and make it a mantra. Because: “Whatever you hold in your mind on a consistent basis is exactly what you will experience in life.” (Tony Robbins, I think?)
January 21
Okay, new rule. Only do yoga at an actual yoga studio. The gym’s yoga classes are the worst. They are mostly taught by fitness instructors who play music too loud (with lyrics?!! Wtf?) and bark instructions at you.
January 22
Travel Day: I thought my new Away travel bag would change my life and it 100% did.
January 23
Tenerife is sunny and that is about the only positive thing I can think to say about it. I walked for hours in the sunshine. I have sand in my hair. I forgot my kindle at home, but thankfully found a used bookstore. I picked up Sisterland by Curtis Sittenfeld and Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson.
January 24
More walking for hours in the sun. After I’d listened to every podcast ever recorded and finished all the audiobooks in my library, I realised that one of my words for 2024 was connection and yet I chose to go on a solo trip to an island in the middle of nowhere.
January 25
I walked for miles along the beach. I read books. I watched the sunset until the sands from Africa started blowing and swirling and smacking me in the face. Then I went back to my dingy hotel and made a cup of tea.
January 26
Travel day. Why does every taxi (outside London) smell like air-freshener and sound like a nightclub?
January 27
Sick.
January 28
Still sick. Not happy.
January 29
You know the old adage that you are the average of the 5 people you spend the most time with? I feel like I bring down the average of every circle I’m part of.
January 30
I’ve re-entered society and will work the rest of the week from Kindred. Just getting dressed up and doing my hair and make-up has helped. But mainly, this: dinner with a friend who swept up all the shattered pieces of my self-confidence and glued me back together again.
January 31
Attended a networking event with Women in Film and Television and met so many inspiring, creative women. I was only there for two hours and met a director, a showrunner, a composer, an actor, a writer and a production designer. How do I do more of this kind of thing?
Something that happened today
Guy at the cafe: What do you do?
Me: I’m writing a book.
Guy: What genre?
Me: Creative Nonfiction.
Guy: Does that mean you are creative with the facts?
Me. Yes.
Postcard from Tenerife
Tenerife at sunset
I planned to kick off this post with an actual postcard from Tenerife, but I couldn’t find one that adequately summarised the relentless bla that I experienced. I stayed in an average hotel, on an average beach and ate average food. So instead of travel recommendations, let me tell you what I learned:
1. If one of your themes for 2024 is connection, don’t take a solo trip to an island off the coast of Africa. Why did I do this? I was in desperate need of sunshine and my travel dates were limited and inflexible. For my American readers: Tenerife is to Brits what Florida is to New Yorkers. It’s a sun run. That’s all. A place to sit in the sun and have a margarita. It’s not meant to be - nor was it - a profound cultural experience.
2. What I accomplished: I walked along the beach for hours and hours and hours. Did I think I would eventually find a charming part of this island? Yes. Did I do so? No. But there was a lot of sun and sand and that’s not nothing.
3. The most interesting place I found: Library Reading Up, a used bookshop in Adeje, for which I was truly grateful because like a dum dum, I left my kindle at home. I picked up Sisterland by Curtis Sittenfeld and Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson.
3 Fun Things
1. I’m late to the game on this! But in case you are too - I’m loving this series: You’re the Worst.
2. This is it, exactly: The Way We Live in the United States is Not Normal
3. If you’re into guided meditations, this one is great! A guided Meditation for Purpose and Potential
Colour and Light
Joanna Constable Green, Noon Powell Fine Art
The Turquoise House, Seville, Oil and variable leaf on canvas, Year: 2024, 102 x 102 cm
Happy Birthday Dolly!
“After you reach a certain age, they think you’re over. Well, I will never be over. I’ll be making records if I have to sell them out of the trunk of my car. I've done that in my past, and I’d do it again.” - Dolly Parton
Here’s Dolly on the podcast We Can Do Hard Things.
A London Map of Days
Map of Days, Grayson Perry
Today London was the greyest of grey and colder than cold.
S and I tried to find inspiration by traipsing all the way across town to attend the London Art Fair. But honestly, we were both tired and cold and our hearts weren’t in it. We walked around for about an hour, had coffee and schlepped ourselves home again.
3 Great Things I Found Today
This morning I fell into a rabbit hole, lost all track of time and nearly missed my hair appointment. The reason is because I found Sarah Miller. She’s a little bit like David Sedaris, if David Sedaris was a woman and not obsessed with garbage collecting and taxidermy. Here’s a sample of her writing: My So-Karen Life.
Then I went shopping with S and bought a fancy work/travel bag, which is more exciting than it sounds because I found exactly what I was looking for and now I get to reorganize all my stuff.
Finally, because the bag is pretty basic classic, I went to Blackout II and found a cool vintage scarf to give it a little personality.
Rêve de Voyage
Luc Lavenseau, as seen at Galerie d'Art Sylvie Platini, in Veyrier-du-Lac.
I can't stop thinking about this painting.
Let's talk about Literary Salons
Sylvia Beach and James Joyce
I went through a phase where I read just about anything I could find set in 1920s Paris. The Sun Also Rises, of course, and A Moveable Feast and Tender is the Night.…
But if I’m honest (and what’s the point otherwise?), I preferred the more recent novels written from the woman’s perspective. Some of my favourites:
In any case: Literary Salons. Like a party, but more interesting. Where writers, artists and thinkers engage in stimulating conversation, not small talk.
A replica of Gertrude Stein’s apartment. Courtesy of Salon de Fleurus and Messy Nessy.
Check out this retrospective of artists living in 1920s Paris.
Gertrude Stein was, by all accounts, the hostess with the mostest and her guests came bearing gifts. Decades later, her apartment was dubbed “the first museum of modern art” as it was filled with Picasso’s, Cezanne’s and the like.
I’m sure I have an overly romantic notion of those salons. Hemingway, in particular, must have been an insufferable blowhard. But still, I love the concept of gathering for the express purpose of discussing books, or art, or something. Really, anything besides the weather and school applications.
I don’t have the chutzpah to host a literary salon (yet!), but I’m working up the courage while reading this book: The Art of the Gathering by Priya Parker.
Muse
Valerie Hadida
My friend told me that if you keep shutting the door on your muse, she will eventually stop knocking. Your muse will find another, more receptive home for her ideas.
Ideas want to be played with and shared. They don’t want to be held captive, squirrelled away in the basement. They need to play in the light of day and feel the air swishing around them.
What is the point otherwise?
Big Pot of Deliciousness
Photo via JuliasAlbum.com (thank you!) - but I didn’t use her recipe.
There’s snow on the mountains surrounding Lake Annecy and white caps on the water. Most of our crew went skiing yesterday and we all needed a hearty vegetarian meal that wasn’t a giant bowl of melted cheese.
This was a huge hit! I’ll definitely put this in regular rotation. You can make this a one-pot meal if you do things in the right order.
Basic ingredients:
Veggie sausages
Onions
Garlic
Tomatoes
Butter / vegan butter
Soy cream
Herbs do Provence or whatever else you have on hand
Gnocchi
Spinach if you can swing it.
I didn’t use a recipe, but here’s the gist:
Brown some vegan sausages and set aside.
Caramelize some onions, then add in some salted butter, tomatoes, garlic and herbs de Provence.
When all that smells good, add soy cream and simmer for as long as you want.
Taste and season accordingly. I added water to thin out the sauce as needed.
Throw in the gnocchi and some fresh spinach (if you have it) into the sauce and simmer until the gnocchis are soft.
Cut up the sausages, throw them into the pot and stir until heated throughout.
There’s not a lot of “freshness” to this meal, so I also put a big plate of crudité on the table which no one said they wanted but everyone devoured.
xo, L
Gift from the Sea
Apparently yesterday was world introvert day, which I didn’t realise because I spent 10 hours writing in my journal and planning the solo trip to Tenerife I’m taking later this month.
Young mothers, I hear your envious groans. Don’t worry! Your time will come. I’ve been where you are and couldn’t imagine peeing alone, much less taking a solo trip to the beach. For now, just read this book: A Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, better known as the wife of Charles Lindbergh.
Women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves.
― Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Gift from the Sea was published in 1955 but it could’ve been written yesterday. It reminds us that the rhythms of life ebb and flow. We are social creatures who need time alone.
Here’s another gem:
The most exhausting thing in life, I have discovered, is being insincere. That is why so much of social life is exhausting; one is wearing a mask. [When I am alone] I have shed my mask.
— Anne Morrow Lindbergh
And this one:
Don't wish me happiness. I don't expect to be happy all the time... It's gotton beyond that somehow. Wish me courage and strength and a sense of humor. I will need them all.
― Anne Morrow Lindbergh
In any case, your time is coming, my friend.
Until then, Happy World Introvert Day from Letters of Note.
xo, L