through the beautiful muck

(welcome to my new substack!)

Welcome to through the beautiful muck, my new substack! I’ll send out a little story each week, just like I did with my weekly missive.

Let me brag for a moment, because I don’t mention it often but actually I am the proud owner of one very special artisanal candle.

This candle resides in a heavy glass pillar, it wears some mystical artwork, and it is full of rich perfume and fancy crystals. 

It was a gift from my husband, bought in a fancy shop in town and made by a local artist. 

A candle of this pedigree is meant to be used to make magic: to set intentions, to cast a spell so fragrant and powerful that the universe can’t possibly resist it. 

Do you know what kind of magic I’m making with this candle? 

It is in my upstairs bathroom, friends. 

It’s in the bathroom that is so purple, so retro, so un-aesthetic…that you’ve probably never seen a photo of it before.

My mystical candle is banishing bad smells.

Today I pulled my favorite silky kimono out of the storage box that holds my summer clothes. I felt so shimmery in it, its soft hues rippling behind me as I moved— a picture of island mom goddess fashion!

Well, you should have seen how carefully I held those sleeves out of the way as I popped the hood on our old van and boosted the battery an hour later.

I felt a little less elegant, digging around in the grody engine of my janky car, cajoling it to start. Sigh.

But last night, I beheld my child’s face with awe. The sun poured in like powdered gold and lit up the dusting of faint freckles across his nose. I held my breath, he was so beautiful.

My heart hurt with love.

A couple of minutes later, that beloved face was red with fury because I was SO MEAN AND UNFAIR to make him turn off fortnite and come to dinner.

I’m in the muck, friends.

Life is messy, chaotic, overfull, and often kind of gross.

But also incandescent with beauty.

This week, like so many weeks in a row, we have had our hearts shattered by images of heartbreak and unspeakable violence. We know that what we see is not even close to the worst things happening in our world, and yet it is almost more than we can bear. We wonder what it means to be human in this world.

This week, like so many weeks in a row, we have looked around in bewilderment as people we love and respect say things that seem impossible. These dear humans are looking at us with the same bewilderment. The things we take for granted about what is good and right are all up for grabs.

This week, like so many weeks in a row, our collective life felt surreal, like a dark farce. The headlines read like they’re out of The Onion or The Handmaid’s Tale. Some of the absurdity (and threat) is far away— and some of it is right at my front door. Some of it is in my house, in our medicine cabinet, dwelling in my very body’s history.

This week, like so many weeks in a row, I was reminded again and again and again that even the most annoying parts of my life right now— the laundry, the chicken shit, the septic tank checkup— are part of a life so privileged, so safe, so beautiful, and so lucky that I absolutely cannot stand the sound of complaint in my own mouth.

Still, I snapped at my child when he yelled at me.

Still, I moaned when I got another letter from the government full of bureaucratic hoops to jump through.

Still, I wrinkled my nose at my old mildewing van that keeps refusing to start.

Still, I felt annoyed as I lit my fancy candle in the stinky bathroom.

(This is the bathroom that has no window, and NO EXHAUST FAN. It is the bathroom that fills up with the kind of smells you can only imagine in a small house with seven people in it— three of whom are teenagers. 

Number of times we have tried to hire people to punch a hole in the roof and install an exhaust fan: two. 

Number of very fancy exhaust fans my kind father bought for us that sit languishing in our basement: one.

Current number of working exhaust fans: zero. 

Current number of working showers in this bathroom: also zero. 

Listen, the fanciest thing in this house might be this candle, okay?) 

So I will take my magic right here, in my bathroom with no windows. In the darkest, smelliest places, I will be grateful for its fragrant light. 

I chortled to myself when I wrote that line in my head, standing in the retro purple bathroom.

Really? A light shining in the dark bathroom? said the critic in my head. That’s the best you’ve got?

Yup.

Oh, and also—

A kid who feels safe enough with me to roar out his biggest emotions.

Chickens who lay us eggs when they aren’t destroying the garden.

A badass self who knows how to boost a fucking car battery.

Not to mention a second bathroom and plumbing and a pretty kimono that’s only got a little engine grease on it.

Oh I’ll take it, I’ll take it, I’ll take it with the sound of thankyou in my mouth.

There is beauty in this muck, my friends.

Let’s wade through it together, shall we?

love,

Katherine