Hagintha Woods

It’s a small, everyday thing. As the routine of daily life passes by, you notice a leaf. Perhaps it drifts gently along the wind, turning gaily in the air. Perhaps it peeks out at you from your meal. Perhaps it even waves to you from where it is rooted, secured to a powerful oak or the clinging ivy that wraps around fences and gates.

It’s a small, everyday thing, but there is something that calls to you. Do you heed it?

You may come close, breathe gently in the fresh scent of it, and you might just smell the traces of solid wood and wet soil. A gust of wind blows, and as the leaf rustles, you could swear that you hear the crackling of a distant fire and the soft scrape of yellowed pages turning. You may angle it to the sun, watch how harsh brightness turns to gentle warmth as it surges through the surface, watch how the light contrasts the path of the sprawling veins that stretch out across the green expanse-is it you, or do they almost look like words?

Dear fellow traveler,

How goes your journey? I hope you have had smooth roads, fair weather, and that any burdens upon your back are those you’ve studied and decided to keep. The world is always shifting, and every road comes with its hardships. To not only travel yours but to do so true to yourself is a supremely difficult task-but of all the tasks we have in living, this is the one that is the most worthwhile.

Welcome to my first newsletter! This is not my first time penning a letter, so the writing process is not unfamiliar to me. Sending it out into the world is, though, and I am excited at the thought of being able to connect to someone across time, space and even recognition, as we might not yet know each other.

Whether by intention, curiosity, or simple accident, you have come into contact with me on a time of rebirth and new beginnings, and for the next few minutes, let us spend some time reveling in this feeling of budding energy together.

Let me set the scene: I am in my humble abode, penning this down on my little table in my room. My friends have bought me a new fountain pen converter for the first fountain pen I had, so it can now be refilled with a bottle of ink instead of cartridges, which is better for the environment. I still have a few more ink cartridges left, so I’m attempting to finish those before I start using the converter and new pen inks, which they’ve also bought me. They’ve gotten me a beautiful green ink and a reddish-purple ink that blossoms with a deep plum colour on the page, and I’m beside myself with the anticipatory excitement of using it eventually. I’ve just eaten some fried rice, and I’m fighting the urge for an afternoon slumber, reminiscent of a lioness after a successful hunt.

That is a microcosm of the spirit that the first half of the year has been for me, a tying up of loose ends and taking stock of my supplies, before I set off on adventure. I quit my job with nothing but the savings I’d accrued and the support of loved ones, in order to leap for something more over the horizon. I can’t say too much about that yet, as even now, I am not sure if it will go anywhere, but I knew that I wanted to try it or I’d be plagued by the regret of ‘what if’, and I was haunted by enough ghosts already. I lived overseas for a while, and got to live independently on my own.

So for the first half of the year, I’ve been pondering over what it means to survive, and how that differs over what it means to thrive. I’ve thought about community and support. Most importantly, I’ve thought about what it means to write.

As someone who writes to understand the world, I’ve written a lot and had meant to start a blog for a years. However, I was held back by self-doubt, a busy schedule, and an unhealthy amount of procrastination. Why bother writing when I’m just a woman, living her life? But actually, the flip side of the coin is true-if no one cares, what is to stop me from trying? Perhaps that is the point- that I am a woman living her one and only life, and that is reason enough to write, and reason enough to speak.

As such, in the spirit of finally starting the things I’d dreamed of, this space was born. It is meant as the place where I shape and share thoughts I’ve had, things I’ve written, and experiences I’ve lived. It is meant as a space of safety and rest for anyone who stops by too, a virtual version of my little dressing room.

As this is the virgin letter and I’ve just started out my blog, the posts ahead will be both about recent events and works that I’ve written previously, so the chronology might be a little confusing, but I’d attempt to get at least my journal entries somewhat in order.

I’d also be open to any suggestions about the formatting, such as if you’d like the whole newsletter in the email or just a snippet, if you enjoy the little bit of whimsy at the start, or if you’d prefer for me to be more to the point. I do have to confess that I’m the most verbose person I know, and that your suggestions will be considered but not necessarily implemented, but I would like to hear different ways of trying things nonetheless.

Now about this newsletter. As I am a person who has never reached the fabled inbox zero in my life and always has countless unread messages, I am loathe to the idea of constantly prodding at others. Not only does it feel a little bit forced for me, it also detracts from my time to write. As such, with the exception of this first one, these newsletters will be released twice a year in June and December, where I will catch you up on my writing and how the past six months have been, where I am, and where I’m planning to go from here. They are written from me to you like a letter, with a pen and paper, before I manually transfer them to my computer because I’m a technological dinosaur and I like writing letters. Believe me, I have spent way too long trying to make this blog as it is.

All in all, the writing on my blog centers around what we owe to others but also what we owe to ourselves. I write about women’s experiences. I write to encourage a kinder world, and I’m always rooting for people to pursue what they dream of, no matter how big. If you’d like to dream with me, read about my exploits or otherwise get a biannual call to review your life and plan for the future with me, arrange to receive the letters. Let us set off on our journeys, but make plans to check in on each other upon the end of the winter and the summer, but the burgeoning of spring and the coming of autumn. I will continue my journey, and at the next turn of the season, I hope I will see you there.

Hagintha Woods