A Love Letter to my Garden by Debbie Millman
In the beginning of time, there was no time. The universe began with every bit of energy contained in a very tiny, incredibly dense point. It was even smaller than this point. The point exploded with an unimaginable force and created everything we know and are made of.
Seeds are a bit like that too. They're tiny and densely packed with their entire existence. Time feels different now, while we shelter at home. Time is scary and uncertain. So we decided to plant some mint. We actually started a little garden a while ago, but now we have more time. We thought that these flowers had died, but they miraculously came back to life. A hopeful sign about the future, perhaps? We planted foxglove and it thrived. And then we went a little crazy. We planted tomatoes, carrots, beans, corn, lettuce and cucumbers, strawberries, blueberries and limes.
It's such a strange time in the world. There is so much beauty amidst so much fear. It's so hard to know what to do. In the meantime, we watch and wait and remain grateful we're able to make things with our hands.
A love letter to New York City by Debbie Millman
I'm a native New Yorker. I've lived here my entire life, yet the city never ceases to surprise me. Everywhere you look, there's something to see. There is Tom Otterness underground and Lawrence Weiner underfoot. There are so many of us. Everyone wants to be someone. Everyone seeks to be heard. Everyone has an opinion, A point of view. And seemingly something to sell.
But life is different now as we shelter at home. Under the same sky, at the same moment, at the same time. I'm thinking about how tough New York can be, how rough and unrelenting. But maybe that intensity is what fuels our tenacity. As we navigate through this crisis, I am hopeful we will find some solace together.
A Love Letter to Travel by Debbie Millman
My work has taken me all over the world. There have been many early departures, and many evenings in the air. In all my travels, I've been struck by so many things. I've observed how people lived in some of the most ancient places on the planet. This is Machu Picchu. This is Easter Island. This is Samoa. This is Angkor Wat. This is Petra in Jordan. The ancient city contained a church, a theater and tombs for the dead. Families lived in two and three-bedroom apartments. We've come a long way.
Some of the structures that remain are rather mysterious, some are otherworldly, some are glorious odes to love, some house the souls of the dead. Some have forced us to choose sides. Some have succumbed to the power of nature. And some have not.
The view from the sky is so abstract. It reveals our connections, our continuity and our scale. Nevertheless, it's hard to see the big picture right now. It's such a difficult time in the world as we pause and dismantle and rebuild our culture. I think back to my travels. I've seen how different we are, how diverse and distinct. But I've also seen our commonalities. How much worship means in Tibet, in Pakistan, in Italy, in China, in Cambodia and in Peru. How much peace means to our future. How much we regret the mistakes of our past. And now, insisting on what matters no matter what.
There is still so much beauty in the world. So much love. I'm hopeful for the next generation. For every creature, large and small. And for the planet we call home.
A Love Letter to Storytelling by Debbie Millman
"A need to tell and hear stories is essential to the species Homo Sapiens. The sound of story is the dominant sound of our lives." - Joseph Campbell
I've loved telling stories all of my life. I've loved writing them and drawing them, and I love teaching my students how to make them. Now I conduct visual storytelling workshops all over the world. Over the years, the students have invented many new ways of expressing their stories. They tell their truths. They reveal secrets. They bare their souls. They share stories of pain, of feeling seen, of not being smart enough. Stories of being scared, feeling pretty or not.
No matter where I teach, I've come to realize how many of their stories are universal. They convey so many shared experiences: rejection, judgment, insecurity, prejudice, forgetting and remembering. But there are also stories of hope, strength, awareness, courage and realizations. Their stories reflect who they really are, how deeply they want to feel connected. And now, as they share their visions for a more optimistic future, their stories are becoming the stories of our times.
