One of you once wrote me that “Grief is strange, oddly supple, and rises up in very peculiar waves.” Supple. Merriam Webster provides several definitions to this word that, when applied to grief, are so, so interesting.
Supple is “compliant often to the point of obsequiousness”. Merriam Webster then uses the pairing “fawning attentiveness” to define obsequiousness and I have to think that the editors have a particular sense of humour. Supple is also “easy and fluent without stiffness or awkwardness”, according to our dear friend, the dictionary.
How curious and how true. Grief receives my fawning attention. It is easy and fluent and as natural and pure as breathing. It is every emotion smashed into the body at a cellular level. At some point, it became comforting, an acknowledgement that I have experienced love, that I am alive, that I am connected to it all.
It is strange, oddly supple, and rises up in very peculiar waves.
- What’s left behind > https://www.laurahilliger.com/whats-left-behind/
It was Monday when I wrote everything above this line. Monday, June 1st. I thought it was time to write you, finally. This week the universe has continued to remind me how all encompassing grief can be. By Wednesday something happened that gave me a new reason to grieve.
It would appear that the last time I wrote this newsletter was back in March. A lot has happened since then. In April, we wrapped the We Are Open Co-op projects we had on and on May 1st, 2026, our 10th birthday, we officially closed the cooperative. I encourage you to read the We Are Composing post because we were considered and thoughtful, and I am elated by our decisions. This week the world changed again.
- FBT on Sellouts and Savants > https://www.laurahilliger.com/fbt/fbt-on-sellouts-and-savants/
- Avoid the hype: it OK to be boring sometimes > https://web.archive.org/web/20260501074858/https://blog.weareopen.coop/avoid-the-hype/
- We Are Composting > https://web.archive.org/web/20260501074226/https://blog.weareopen.coop/we-are-composting/
Maybe I’m transitioning
I, since then, have been on sabbatical and completely offline. Well, as offline as a person can be in this day and age. I’ve used the internet to complete life things. I booked some places to stay for when I go to Scotland next week. I had a single Zoom chat a some point in May. I use Signal pretty regularly. I went on LinkedIn once to read a note from a colleague who has retired from tech. I do not need a calendar anymore.
It’s different, being on sabbatical. This not interneting thing. I’m not working with non-profits or social projects, not spreading the good gospel of cooperatives, community, solidarity. I have been wondering what the point of continuing to write is. When the the machines gobble up what is real and pure and work it into a Deloitte presentation about motivating “human resources”, why put it out there at all? I am working on a collection of short stories. I wonder why. I haven’t been putting my work online. Art is never finished anyway, so why bother sharing it?
I do one thing at a time now. When I cut chives in the garden, I am only cutting chives. My coffee will stay outside of reaching distance because I forgot it, and I had already sat down to write. Or to read. Or I went outside and then I was outside and the coffee grows cold until I’ve done whatever it was that I wanted to do outside. My garden is beautiful. There are so many bees.
I am not doing two things at once. Our micro behaviours and movements, our distractions, our inability to pay any sort of attention, knowing what our bodies are saying when we stop letting the mind control everything…I’ve been working on that.
- I Am Retiring from Tech to Live Offline > https://openpath.quest/2026/i-am-retiring-from-tech-to-live-offline/
- Human art is worth fighting for > https://halmail.substack.com/p/on-demis-feeble-ai-statement
- On how not knowing what you’re doing is a good sign > https://thecreativeindependent.com/people/writer-mason-currey-on-how-not-knowing-what-youre-doing-is-a-good-sign/
Maybe I need help?
I am ok. It is all ok. I mean, nothing is ok, but it’s ok, you know? There are so many forms of grief.