Introducing Soulmanac
... and hoping you'll join me.
This is a longer letter than usual so you may want to make yourself a cup of tea and find a comfy spot before you start! I did try to edit it down but, in the end, I decided I actually want to tell you the whole story. I’ll let you decide if there are any bits which could have been skipped over. If, though, you don’t have much time but are itching to know what all this is about, you can scroll to the end for a little summary. You can always pop back to read the rest later (I hope you will - I’m genuinely excited to share this with you).
I'm writing this to you from my garden the old fashioned way - pen and notebook in hand. From here I can see that, although the flower beds are past their best and in need of a tidy, there is still an abundance of green foliage and the anemones are in peak bloom as well as a few resilient geraniums. I can even see a rose or two - a reminder that it may be mid-September but summer is slow to give way to autumn and there’s still plenty to savour before the season turns (whatever the shops may want us to believe - I saw my first Christmas crackers and mince pies yesterday…).
This time a few weeks ago in a different garden 150 miles away, I had an epiphany. I’m ready to write my next book. Not in an abstract sense but in the very specific sense of knowing exactly what I want to write about and how I want to write it. Perhaps that sounds grand and dramatic. In a way, I suppose it was: the dots of a thousand questions suddenly joining and yielding an answer. But in that moment of knowing, it didn't feel grand or dramatic at all but really rather small and manageable (when I tell you about the book, I think you’ll understand why). I don’t say this to diminish the revelation but to explain why I felt I could trust - and be excited about - this new book project. Time and again, life has taught me that, when it comes to new beginnings and first steps, small and manageable is key so, when I noticed that this idea did not feel overwhelming, intimidating or even A Big Deal, I inwardly said “yes”.
One of the thoughts that tumbled from that initial epiphany was that I already knew the title. In fact I had known it for months. When it first arrived I hadn’t thought of it as the title of a book but as an answer to my wonderings about the future of Seasonal Retreats by Mail, the online care packages I send to my Substack paid subscribers. The intention behind these care packages has been to give those who can’t attend my in person retreats a way to build a habit of regular, intentional rest in rhythm with the changing seasons. Every time I shared photos of these in person retreats here or via my Instagram account I’d get messages from people saying that they wished they lived closer. Seasonal Retreats by Mail has been my way of widening the invitation and increasing the accessibility of my in person retreats and so, for the past year, I have been sending our regular care packages, offering my Seasonal Retreats by Mail community everything they need to curate a mini retreat experience in their own spaces.
I’ve loved creating these digital care packages but I think it’s time for them to evolve and for some time I've been thinking that, as well as offering some gentle encouragement and support with resting in rhythm with the season, I would like to offer some help with living in rhythm with the season.
I’ll leave it for another letter to parse out the many reasons I’m a fan of seasonal living (which really just means living awake to the natural season that’s unfolding around you), but, for now, I’ll simply say that I think anything that counters our society’s hurtling speed is a good thing. In a world where many of us feel the pressure to always be looking to the future while doing as much as possible as fast as possible, intentionally tuning into the season as it is unfolding now feels like stepping off the treadmill and being given permission to just breathe. For years I lived at odds with the pace of my soul, believing that my desire to slow down and simplify was a deficiency rather than a Divine nudge in a more life-giving direction. I’ve tried all sorts of ways to find a healthier pace of life but, of all of them, seasonal living has been my favourite. Living in sync with the seasons offers me a path to a lifestyle that is sustainable, simple and slow. Better still, it is not about deprivation or denial (pathways I’ve tried before which did not lead to life) but noticing, savouring and celebration. It can also be incredibly simple. In fact, for me, seasonal living mostly involves paying attention and small, piecemeal attempts to enjoy what's happening while it's happening. Things like going for a mindful walk and taking just one photograph, gathering and displaying found objects as seasonal treasure, cooking with local produce, tending the garden, finding ways to fill my home with scents that evoke the season.
I also read Lia Leendertz’s almanac and celebrate the beginning of each month by reading the short reflection she includes as an introduction to the month’s chapter. I read these reflections slowly, savouring each word and turn of phrase but still they end too soon and I find myself wanting more. Although the tide tables and moon phases, unfamiliar seasonal recipes and gardening guides that fill the rest of each chapter are interesting and helpful, I usually close the book still hungry for something that will help me find a way to the heart of the season. I’m not sure exactly what that something is but perhaps it’s deeper companionship as I seek to connect with what the season is offering me or how it is inviting me to respond; something that I can ponder or practise as I walk my way through the month.
My hunger for something more from my almanac’s pages flows, at least partly, from the intertwining of my spirituality with the connectedness I experience in and through nature and the changing seasons. So many times, the mysterious yet abiding Divine presence has greeted me in the rustle of trees or startled me back into presence through a honking goose or situated me in the order of things through a breathtakingly stunning sunset. While my mental grip on the specifics of religious belief seems to be coming loose with time, my love for the One I meet in and through the sacred ordinary only deepens and I no longer feel the need to rationalise, justify or neatly package it to trust it.
I know I’m not alone in this and it annoys me when nature centred spirituality is dismissed as primitive, simply a place to begin a spiritual journey to higher ways of connecting or expressing faith. It’s also silly and wrong-footed given that a love of, and reverence for, nature and animals is a common feature of holy people from all faith traditions. An awareness of the sacred significance of the natural world is shared by most, if not all faiths and coming home to an intuitive and whole self awareness of the saturated meaningfulness of nature and her changing seasons is, for many, regardless of spiritual background, a coming home to genuine, heartfelt and transformational encounter with the Divine. Given how divisive most religious communities are (between and within themselves) surely any authentic spiritual expression that is shared across religious traditions ought to be treasured and celebrated.
And so I think it was this hunger for something to nourish my whole self awareness of the sacred depths of nature that I was leaving Lia’s Almanac unsatisfied. Please don’t misunderstand me though. It’s not that I wanted Lia’s Almanac to include more information about religious festivals or even to have a more day-by-day devotional feel. What I was longing for was simply some stories and maybe some gentle questions or practices to encourage and companion me in attending to the connection with the sacredness I find in nature. Something to encourage me to get outside and really pay attention to what’s happening around me and within, something to help me savour the season as a spiritual practice. I started to wonder what that would look like and the word came: soulmanac. A soulful almanac. A seasonal compilation of simple things to nourish and encourage those who, like me, feel that deep draw to slow down and attend to the season. Some things that might help with strengthening their holy connection with the natural world and letting that connection illuminate and guide.
Until that significant moment in the garden I couldn’t work out what a soulmanac would look like - how such a book could have depth but still be about simple, ordinary encounter and how I could write it in a way that felt sustainable and fun. The key came via an image which popped into my mind while I was swinging from one of my favourite trees. A scrapbook full of snippets, photos and drawings. Some of them were mine but some were written in my children’s perfectly imperfect handwriting. This could be my soulmanac, I realised. Not a neatly polished, perfectly packaged book or even a series of put-together emailed care packages with aspirational ideas about how to find meaning in each season but a scrappy record of what it looks like for a family to try to bring some intention to living in rhythm with the seasons, tethered by a shared sense of the wonder-fulness of nature.
I know I could write about this project after it’s complete - perhaps in a year’s time when we’ve intentionally cycled through each of the seasons as a family. I could wait until I have a full collection to show you any photos, I could wait until I’ve finished processing this journey until I tell you the story. But, friends, I’m tired of writing about things that I’ve already lived and processed. If I’m honest, I’m also tired about reading about things people have already lived and processed. I want to read the unedited, real-time version of things and I’m curious what will happen if I trust that you might want to as well. The idea won’t leave me alone so here I am finally answering the call, tentatively stepping out to find out what will happen if I write to you as I go, if I let myself think of these letters as postcards on the journey instead of a report once home. I know it’ll be messier and scrappier this way but perhaps that’s not a bad thing for this recovering perfectionist to experience. Perhaps it will feel refreshing for you too.
In any case, I would love you to join me in the experiment. I don’t know exactly what I’ll be sharing (and I’m trying to embrace that as part of the charm of this writing-as-I-go plan) but I’m imagining recipes and crafts, stories and wonderings, new discoveries and favourite things. There will be depth and there will also be levity because I think one often comes enfolded in the other. Some notes will be longer and deeper than others but I hope they will never feel burdensome or heavy. I simply want to offer some morsels to nourish those kindred spirits for whom nature is a place of grounding wisdom and sacred connection. You are welcome whatever your beliefs or spiritual background and whether you feel more comfortable imagining yourself as a companion or a collaborator or a cheerleader or a friendly witness. If you are at all curious about seasonal living and how this experiment will go, it would be an honour to write to you. Who knows, maybe you’ll even want to make your own scrapbook (if so, let’s learn to do it together because this is new to me).
Because I’ll be sharing a lot of myself in and through these seasonal letters, I’m keeping this project for my paid Substack subscribers only. It makes it feel safer to write knowing that those I am writing to are invested in me and this playful experiment. If you are currently signed up for Seasonal Retreats by Mail, you’re already subscribed and there’s nothing to do. Thank you so much and be reassured that there will still be plenty for you to draw from if you want to continue to self-host mini seasonal retreats in your own space. If, though, you are not currently a paid subscriber and you feel a draw to support or companion me through this next project, I would be so delighted if you would consider subscribing.
The cost of an annual subscription to Soulmanac is £25. That’s about the price of a hardback book or less than 50p per week. Click the button below to subscribe. There’s also an option to gift one to a friend, if you feel like being especially generous.
I realise that it can seem strange to pay for writing when there’s so much available for free online but it really does mean so much to writers like me whose work is only viable with reader support. I understand, though, that sometimes finances are just too tight so, if money is the only barrier and you’d still like to join, please email me at jennifer.goodyer@gmail.com and I will add you for free, no questions asked because I trust you.
I’ll be beginning with my first Soulmanac email in a couple of weeks as we ease our way into October (quite possibly my favourite month). Until then, I’d love to hear what you think of this new venture or if you have ideas or requests for what you’d like to see included. And if you read all the way to the end, thank you for being such a gracious recipient of my (many) carefully chosen words.
Hoping you will savour the season as it unfolds,
Soulmanac: A Scrappy, Soulful Journey Through the Seasons
Come on a journey with me and my family as we spend a year playfully looking for ways to notice, savour and celebrate the seasons.
This year, instead of sending 4 seasonal care packages to my paid Substack community, I'll be sending regular emails (weekly-ish) sharing how my family and I are trying to live in sync with the season.
These emails will have a scrapbook feel and will include everything and anything from readings to recipes, simple crafts to seasonal cocktails, folklore to foraging. I'll also be sharing my noticings, questions and wonderings as I reflect on what it's like to treat living in harmony with the seasons as a spiritual practice. This is my soulful answer to an almanac - a fun and practical guide to the season that also seeks to companion you in noticing and honouring the sacredness you encounter in nature, however you name and understand it.
If you've ever felt a connection with the mysterious abiding more of the Divine in and through the natural world or you’ve ever felt curious about what it might look like for you to live more in rhythm with the pattern of the changing seasons, this journey is for you. You are welcome to join me as a companion, collaborator, cheerleader or friendly witness - whatever feels good to you.
An annual subscription to Soulmanac is £25, which is about the price of a hardback book or less than 50p per week. Click the button below to subscribe. There’s also an option to gift one to a friend, if you feel like being especially generous.
Please note that if you are already signed up for Seasonal Retreats by Mail (THANK YOU!) your membership with automatically transfer and, when it’s time, it will renew at the new, Soulmanac price. Be reassured that there will be plenty to support you in maintaining your pattern of intentionally resting in rhythm with the seasons.
I can’t wait to share this adventure with you!
Jen x
*I'm choosing to write these Soulmanac letters to my paid Substack subscribers because I want to make sure they reach those kindred spirits who feel a connection with my writing and the intention of this project. If, though, this is unaffordable for you and you'd still like to join, please do reach out and I’ll add you for free, no questions asked because I trust you.
Brilliant! I love this so much and I can't wait to read more, get inspired and try out some ideas - you always have such on-point nuggets.
A lovely idea, my friend...and one well worth the playful experiment. Looking forward to journeying with you from across the pond. Hugs!