What-ho dear Coterie! I wrote the first half of this letter to you yesterday during the solstice. I also made and published my first podcast in quite a while (in ‘spontaneous meander-mode’), which you can listen to here.

Anyhoo I wasn’t feeling particularly festive yesterday, so the first half of this piece has the hint of dark bitterness that makes some chocolate so nice. After writing the first half, I then begrudgingly went to a ‘Christmas Carols’ musical thing that our friend Pat says is a highlight of the year. I brought my kindle and read in the audience at the start, but then—somehow—I found myself tapping along. Then, begrudgingly, arms unfolded, I found myself having a Good Time. Even singing along toward the end (and not just miming the words). Joyously.

Suffice to say: this letter now has a Part Two. Ergo: enjoy this topdeck epistle, friends!

Part the One: How to Solstice

So, the Choose One Word programme has launched and in classic Dr Fox (and dangerlam) style, our post-launch marketing efforts have been so very hipster-subtle. Like opening a cafe in an alleyway somewhere with no advertising—it kinda works in Melbourne (maybe)—but let’s see how it goes in the real world [-wide web], hoho.

I think part the fact is, quite simply, I’m ‘done’ for the year. Spent; ready for a break. I’m super chuffed with the programme we made—and we’ve already had over 100 sign up, which is wondrous—but also: it’s Christmas. And Christmas is a weird time. Part of me thinks: oh, should we put out a message encouraging people to gift their loved ones with the Choose One Word programme? I mean: what a gift! Amite? And what a time to be receiving such a gift. Wondrous, and so on.

But I find myself mostly fatigued by the commodification that pervades most of this time of year. It is particularly weird here in Australia, where many attempt to ape the winter-solstice rituals of the northern hemisphere (hot roast lunches, Christmas pine-trees, stockings, hot puddings and so on)—despite the fact that we are amidst the summer solstice.*

* Add to the fact that the island-continent I write to you from is burning with koalas dying, democracy going backward and all the signs of a decline into fascism becoming ever more present—you can imagine why I am not feeling particularly festive right now. At the same time, focusing on the small pleasures and local goodness is nice.

Actually—the solstice is today. Happy solstice day!

This stuff used to ‘mean’ something. And if you have a family, perhaps it does. There’s a certain charm is seeing how effectual the Myths and Rituals of the holiday season can bring families and friends together. And how new forms of ritual and meaning are emerging, too.

In my circles I have been invited to various ‘orphan gatherings’. Folks who don’t particularly subscribe to the warped commodification that might be Christmas (and who otherwise find themselves displaced or distant to their family). These orphan Christmas celebrations recognise the memetic drift of ‘Christmas’—the meaning is malleable, and thus allows for new and alternative forms of meaningenss to emerge. Picnics in the park, frisbee with strangers, music at dusk and the joys of watching dogs at play. Slow time, in community.

And this is perhaps what it all comes back to: community. Our online worlds simultaneously connect and divide us. They serve a function—and they are a vital step in our societies to reconcile differences between countries as we transition to a more global community. And yet our local worlds need nurturing, too. Perhaps more so.

If anything, this solstice time ought herald such a return to the local. A kind yet prominent reminder to remember: we live locally.* (Or maybe this is just a reminder for me—as one who dwells in the meta, here prompts a return to the mesa).

* Jenny Odell’s phenomenal book How to Do Nothing: resisting the attention economy (which I read vicariously via Kim) really makes the point of how ‘doing nothing’ can serve as a quiet resistance-in-place to the hyper-capitalism that pervades our world.

I’m not sure if the winter solstice might actually beckon more of a return to familial modes (as distinct to wider communal modes—what with the snow outside), but regardless: I wish for all of us a flourishing sense of community-ness-ness (ness). A convivial collegiality, curiosity and care for your fellow citizens and comrades.

(That last sentence was just me flaunting vocabulary, as I think I was struggling to wrap it all up eloquently. It was at this point I left to go attend the ‘Christmas carols’ thing.)

Part the Two: How to Have a Break

Heh, yeah so: last night was good. It served as a bit of a pattern-disrupt. A line in the sand, so that I might now begin to truly ‘have a break’. (Writing this letter to you, by the way, is a complimentary activity to me; a joy).

Cal Newport writes about the importance of a shut-down ritual in each of our days. This is a key component of Deep Work that has slipped for me in the past few months—‘work’ has encroached my evenings. This might be, in part, influenced by Kim’s night-owl tendencies—but I think it largely has to do with the fluid/nebulous (and rarely patterned) shape of our days. Because I don’t work 9–5 and instead await the Fox-signal to light the sky (to which I merrily don my cloak, load my grapple-crossbow, wax my moustache/beard, make a quick espresso and then gracefully leap into the night) having a ‘routine’ has been largely out of my grasp. Hence why I opt for rhythm (like a flâneur).

And yet still: the shut-down ritual is something I’d like to improve. For each of my days and each of my years. And so here we are now. You and I.

I know for many of us this time of year is particularly ‘stressful’. Just think of all the folks working in retail, all the folks working in the manufacture of the commodities voraciously consumed by society. And all the myriad hurts and pains that come from feeling alone or misunderstood or not quite as belonging as might other wise feel. The interpersonal angsts that can flare at this time of year, as we seek to navigate the intersubjective norms and expectations of those around us, in a manner that is somehow coherent and congruent.

I personally don’t always find it easy to have a break—even though, in theory, I know how restorative and well-filling breaks are.

Luckily, I have a darling partner (the dangerlam) who—a year or two ago—made a book especially for me! I know: I’m am truly #blessed.

I share this with you here as it may help you to introspect and glean what genuinely ‘having a break’ might mean for you. Like, really: what does ‘having a break’ entail for you (beyond a return to distraction)?

dangerlam

‘How to have a break’ — the product of my love for (@drjasonfox + paper + zine making) + propensity to dispense (well-meaning and non-heirarchical I-assure-you) advice. It’s a custom-made crisis management zine not without in-jokes. ‘Punish the Unspoken’ is our house motto, and not as evil as it sounds—it’s a reminder to speak up for your own needs. ⁣
—⁣
The paper was handmade 20 years ago across half-dozen summer holidays, using years’ worth of hoarded scrap paper that I had archived into rainbow categories into a fat binder folder. The painstakingly made paper eventually also became archived (that is: kept but hidden from sight and unused), and over time accrued too much nostalgic worth and became too precious an asset that it was ultimately rendered into its opposite: a redundant and fragile liability-artefact running out of meaning. ⁣
—⁣
YOLO and there comes a time when you gotta be bold and make the incision (a lesson from ex-vet-boss), or in this case: make a mark. If not for yourself, then for someone else. Creativity’s best friend is Destruction.⁣ And the paper got to be precious again!
—⁣
To make something new, you must change what was. 👻

December 10, 2019

I’ll share with you some choice pictures. You can see a wee bit more of the book in Kim’s instagram post.

That last one depicts our House Words. I might explain that one another time. But for now, my third coffee beckons, huzzah!

Remember, you have a special code for the Choose One Word programme that grants you a 50% discount on lifetime access. The code is ‘friendofthefox’ and it is valid until the 29th of December this year. Just be sure to enter the code before you enter your credit card details—there’s a little coupon prompt; you’ll find it.

Of course, if you are feeling festive you can of course gift enrolment to the Choose One Word programme to a friend, and invite them to likewise participate in an annual Ritual of Becoming with you. Either way—as ever—thank you my dear Coterie, for your support. I wish you all the wellness.

jf