The Revival
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
[…]
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise“Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou
Dear one,
Happy 1st of June! It has been just short of 18 months since we last appeared in your inbox. We, more specifically, I dropped the ball.
If you received this email, it means you are still subscribed. Thank you for staying on.
How did the ball drop? It’s really been too long to remember but it is a mix of busyness, instability, helplessness, shame, doubt, etc. Something in me wonders if I have to be answerable to you, my reader, and something else wonders if you noticed we went missing, and are perhaps waiting. Just from these wonderings, we can see my conditioned fixations and egoic concerns. Daryl, on the other hand, would tell me to simply write when we want to, and that most importantly, we engage in something we enjoy. His personality structure bears the knowledge and lesson of boundary. I will not bore you with these for now, but I will be certain to write on them in the coming future.
A note from Daryl:
Hello, everyone. Thank you for supporting us and The Bridge Press thus far. I suppose you’ve read what Rosslyn has written, and, indeed, I am calling time on my stint with this endeavour. I’m currently involved in my own (extremely) large project of writing my dissertation so that takes me away for the most part.
I’m glad to have been able to share my thoughts with you. Then again, when was I ever not glad to share my views? If they resonated with you, I’m heartened. If not, sub specie aeternitatis, I’m sure there will be opportunities for us to be together in conversation, thought, and being once more.
So, Daryl has begun work on his dissertation and will be busy writing. Without a partner-in-crime, there is insecurity and doubt in sustaining a newsletter alone. Will readers be interested in just one person's perspective? My original intention for The Bridge Press was to offer different examples and perspectives, and invite you to join in the contemplation. But to let this simply fade away, it's hard. I’ve left many things I had begun stranded out at sea, but from time to time, they gnaw at me. Everything needs some form of closure. It is okay to drop something if I have decided it is no longer true for me. But to simply drop it because of a limiting belief that I have no means to do it alone, this brings up grief.
Grief points me to love, and beckons courage. Hence, my attempt to revive this project, with the change that I will be the sole voice of the newsletter from hereon.
Moving forward, what will I be writing about?
Everything under the sky with the focus of connecting to what it is to be human. I am continuously learning, and, now, teaching about “human-ing.”
I am also going to spend summer designing a new course on the return to basics, “Humaning 101”, and I will explore some concepts in my newsletter as well. My return home to myself showed me that I really am a fan of basics. I practice to develop foundation and harmony within so I can live and function from a place of integrity and intentionality.
I also intend to move into a paid subscription model for my newsletter because I am confident of what I offer through my writing. I can only become a professional writer and teacher when I treat myself as one. And with this in place, I will also be setting up a work structure for myself to ensure I deliver on my teachings. More exploration to come.
If you'd still like to receive notes from me, please stick around as I import you to my personal Substack account, which I am setting up. I am looking to restart my newsletter from my new account in July. You, being with us since we started The Bridge Press, will enjoy free subscription throughout. And if you prefer otherwise, this is your chance to unsubscribe. Do what’s true for you.
If you are still reading now, thank you.
A writer may not need a reader to be realised. But for it to be a profession, and vocation, any piece of writing requires the relationship between the writer and the reader to be birthed. I look forward to leaning into your support.
I fell, and now, rise, do I.
Blessings,
Rosslyn